Page 4 of Icarus

“Come on, please,” Icarus griped.

Julian thankfully didn’t push him and just handed his notes backward. Icarus immediately began copying them.

“You can’t keep copying off me, Icarus. Eventually someone is going to notice,” Julian murmured.

“I know, I’ll keep it to a minimum.”

Icarus managed to finish before their work was collected and handed Julian back his notebook.

“You know they can cancel your acceptance to schools if you mess up senior year,” Julian said. “I knew someone who got into Brown and got their offer rescinded. It does happen.”

Icarus rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the warning.”

Julian scowled ferociously and pulled Icarus’s drink away.

“Dude, come on. I’m actually not doing bad in my other classes, I’m just not a morning person. I promise I won’t ask again.”

Julian pushed the drink back, narrowing his eyes. “I’m going to stop bringing coffee if you don’t start doing your work. The Morning Person thing is obvious; that’s why I’m bringing it in the first place.”

Icarus nodded. “Okay. That’s fair . . . A bit . . . authoritative but fair.”

Julian smacked the top of Icarus’s hand when he wrapped it back around the cup.

“You’re too smart to become a fuck-up. Don’t be pathetic.”

Icarus was about to ask why Julian cared so much, but class was beginning to start.

Bide

The sun lit up the small curls on the back of Julian’s neck. His tag was sticking up out of his brown striped sweater.

Icarus leaned on his hand and stared.

Julian wouldn’t be angry if Icarus tucked it back in. He would probably just bat at his hand and say something snappy.

But if he touched Julian’s tag, he might accidentally touch Julian’s neck.

If he touched Julian’s neck, he would know what Julian felt like. If he knew what Julian felt like, Icarus was afraid he wouldn’t forget it.

Icarus didn’t get touched very often and the few times it happened by accident it felt . . . like so much. His face burned when someone handed him something and their fingers brushed. It made his chest feel tight and out of order, like the discord of strumming your fingers across all the strings of a guitar.

Julian scratched absentmindedly at the place where the thick fabric square irritated his skin but still didn’t push the tag inside.

Julian wasn’t mean but he wasn’t exactly nice. Icarus couldn’t just do things to him and assume he’d react normally. Julian was like . . . if someone had fused a bully and a nerd and a mom together into one. Unpredictable.

Luca

There was a track that circled the hill. You could travel it in a loop for the full gym period if you didn’t feel like playing. Icarus preferred this unless Mr. Collins specifically dragged him over to do team sports. Mostly because it was easier.

“Why do we always have to walk the mile?” Luca griped. “We could be playing kickball. You’re so freakin’ good at it.”

“You’re good at kickball too,” Icarus reminded Luca. “You could totally opt to not walk with me. That’s always an option on the table.”

Luca sighed dramatically and pushed his fingers through his wavy brown hair. “Whatever man. I’m fine on the field, but not crazy like you. I’m sure if there was an Olympic track for kickball, you’d get a scholarship.”

“This is better though. I like having at least one class where we don’t have to try our hardest and we can just wander outside for a while.” Icarus looked up at him, fondly.

Luca was quiet for a bit, gazing off at the other kids playing in the field. Then he pushed Icarus hard with one arm.