4

Stick is gaping at Penelope’s retreating form. “O, Elbereth, Gilthoniel!” he intones.

“You too?!” Kiri squeals. She rushes around that end of the table and tackles Stick. “I love Tolkien!” The boy’s 1950’s horn-rimmed glasses came askew.

Lightning says, “See, he sees what I mean.”

Bear turns his head to Lightning and asks, “How do you know her anyway?

“Oh,” Lightning says, turning pink. “I, uh…”

“Art majors put out, dude,” Stick says, adjusting his glasses as Kiri takes a seat on the floor next to him. “Everybody knows it. There’s even been studies done on it.”

“No, that’s not it.” Lightning says. “She was on campus this last summer, and we, uh, met at the Union.”

“And then what?” asks Christopher. “Got it on in the beanbag room?”

“No! I didn’t fucking fuck her!” Lightning’s getting livid.

“Well, you sure wanted to just now,” Christopher says, dryly.

Lightning shoots up from his chair, leaning across the table into Christopher’s face. “Am I allowed to appreciate beauty? Or must I immediately lay every fucking nice-looking girl I see on the floor and fucking rape her right there?”

Christopher stands up and opens his mouth just as Ray says, “Sit down.”

They stand there, face to face, both steaming.

“Any louder and she’ll turn around and see you two idiots gawping at each other. Sit down!”

They sat.