“I’m sure the department will consider adding another—”
“Dr. Kanaan, I’m going to be frank: when was the last time any university anywhere had a waitlist of two hundred people trying to get into a class called Shakespeare in the World?”
For the next ten seconds, Dr. Kanaan rearranged things on the desk: a stapler, the cable for a MacBook, a foam apple that was probably one of those stress toys. She looked like she was thinking about squeezing the hell out of that apple.
“You said this was about Theo Stratford.”
“That’s right.”
“I think you’d better explain yourself and then go, Mr. Lopez.”
Auggie tapped a few more screens until he got to the Instagram hashtag he’d created, #hotguysreadshakespeare. He’d spent the last few weeks building the tag around Theo, occasionally adding comments where he talked about the Shakespeare in the World class he’d taken. To Auggie’s surprise, many of Theo’s former students had chipped in, adding their own testimonials. The hashtag had taken off after that, with people posting pictures of other hot guys who, presumably, read Shakespeare. Sometimes, it seemed a little bit like a stretch. There was one of a guy in yoga pants, his hair in a man bun, and there was absolutely no indication at all that he was reading Shakespeare. He just had great abs.
“What is this?” Dr. Kanaan said.
“This is free marketing. I’ve got a lot of followers, Dr. Kanaan. I’m happy to send them your way. Most people’s lives would be improved by taking a class from Theo, although you could tell him not to be such a bitch with the participation points. I’ve let people know that Theo will be teaching Shakespeare in the World next year. Fall and Spring semesters. That’s why you have two hundred people lining up to take a course that, in the last four terms, has had an all-time high of twenty-six students.”
Dr. Kanaan was silent for a long moment. “Theo’s situation—”
“No,” Auggie said.
“And I suppose that if the department doesn’t give Theo instructional opportunities, you’re going to tell your followers to take a different class.”
“Of course not. But I am going to post his evaluations. And then I’m going to post the evaluations of every other instructor in the department, beginning with Dr. Wagner. And then I’m going to start a #freetheo campaign.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. He’s not imprisoned.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense. That’s the beauty of social media.”
“This is blackmail, Mr. Lopez.”
“No, this is an opportunity. You have a phenomenal instructor who could help your program grow. Your department has mothballed him because they’re afraid he’s toxic. Here’s your proof that he isn’t. Give him two sections each semester until he graduates, and you’ll get two more years of free marketing from me. Theo gets to teach and build his CV. You get increased enrollment, which means better numbers for the dean, which means more funding, more professorships, etc.”
“I’ll have to talk to the chair. This will take time.”
“Not too much, I hope. People want to finalize their course registration.”
When Auggie left, he had the distinct impression that Dr. Kanaan didn’t like him. His hands were shaking, and as he rode down the elevator, a huge, sloppy grin broke out. He thumped his head against the metal paneling of the car.
“Fuck yes,” he shouted, and the words echoed in the elevator’s metal box.
He still had a couple of finals that he needed to study for, so he headed across the quad toward the Sigma Sigma house. The campus was sharply divided between the kids who had finished (or who had given up) and the ones who hadn’t. A boy was showing another boy how to fly a drone, the two standing shoulder to shoulder as they looked at the controls. A girl was teaching what looked like a hula-hoop class to several middle-aged women, all in leotards. A guy and a girl were making out in the shade of an oak tree. A pair of women, their hair shaved, their heads tattooed in blue geometric designs, were quizzing each other with flashcards. A cute kid with a mop of curly hair sat with his eyes closed, quietly conjugating Spanish verbs out loud.
“Augs!”
Auggie put his head down and walked faster.
“Augs, wait! Hold on!”
Sighing, Auggie stopped and looked over his shoulder. Orlando was jogging after him. Scabs still marked where the skin had split on his nose and lips, but the bruising had faded. The wind pulled at his dark curls. When he came to a stop, he wrapped his arms around himself, looking everywhere but at Auggie’s face.
“I’m sorry—”
“I’m sorry—”
They both laughed uncomfortably.
“Me first,” Auggie said. “I’m sorry we used you as bait. We legitimately thought Wayne would confess because he’d already done it once, when we found all the money under the bed. I’m sorry I made up that fake email and made you think Genesis wanted you to help her again. And I’m really, really sorry about Wayne. I will totally understand if you hate me.”
Orlando pushed some of the thick, coarse curls away. With what looked like a lot of effort, he met Auggie’s eyes. “You found who killed my brother. And yeah, it was my other brother. But Augs, you’re never going to know what that means to me. Thank you.”
“Well, you did kind of save my life, so I think we’re even.”
“My parents will still pay you, you know. They don’t want anybody to think they won’t cover their debts.”
Auggie just shook his head. Someone on the quad was playing the panpipes, the music shrill and grating. “No, that wouldn’t be right.”
“You found Cal’s killer—”
“No. But thank you.”
After a moment, Orlando said, “I’m sorry about everything, Augs. I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess. I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen to you and Theo when you tried to tell me something was wrong. I’m sorry Wayne hurt you. Are you ok?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is Theo ok?”
“I guess.”
“What’s that mean?”
“He’s fine, he’s just—he’s just Theo being Theo.” The words exploded free before Auggie could stop them. “Half the time it’s like he’s holding on to me for dear life, and the other half it’s like he wants to pin my mittens to my sleeve.”
A huge grin bloomed on Orlando’s face.
“What?” Auggie said.
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
“I just always forget how dumb you are.”
Auggie slugged him.
“Jesus, Augs, watch it.” Orlando rubbed his shoulder, his grin getting even bigger. “You’re getting some legit guns.”
And right then Auggie realized that he loved Orlando. Maybe not in the way he’d thought when they’d met, not romantically, instead like one more dumbass brother. But he still loved him, and it couldn’t have left him more shocked.