“I know,” Aiden snarled, whipping around. That was no use to him at all. Harvard didn’t care, so why did everyone keep bothering him about it?
A small child of indeterminate gender in a sailor suit, with curling brown lovelocks, was holding up a black-and-white stuffed toy for Aiden’s inspection. Guilt struck Aiden down with a terrible and relentless hand.
“I have a bear, too,” said the little kid.
Overcome by remorse, Aiden went down on one knee so that he could properly admire the bear. “I see,” he said. “Very handsome.”
“My mom gave me him,” confided the kid, glancing up at the woman with bold red lipstick, who was holding their hand.
Aiden flashed her a grin. “That was nice of her.”
“Who gave you your bear?” asked the kid, studying Harvard Paw’s beret with fascination. Aiden had wanted Harvard to be dressed for the occasion.
“My best friend, Harvard,” Aiden told the kid, slanting his grin Harvard’s way.
Except Harvard wasn’t looking at him. He was looking in entirely the opposite direction. He’d caught sight of Arune and a couple of MLC boys and was waving determinedly to get their attention.
Aiden’s stomach curdled, sour. Great. Arune was here.
“That was nice of your friend,” said the kid.
It had been. Everything about Harvard was nice. Harvard had been the tallest boy in class then, the same way he was now, and Aiden had been small and pathetic. He’d just wanted to follow Harvard around and had used the bear as an excuse, but then Harvard had smiled so warmly it made Aiden forget all the cold echoes of his vast empty home, and he offered Aiden the bear to keep for his own.
“Yeah.” Aiden’s smile returned, charmed by the memory. “It was. That’s why I called the bear Harvard Paw after him. The name is also a pun.”
After deep thought, the kid offered, “My bear is a panda. He is called Mr. Bear.”
“Well, that’s a good name, too,” said Aiden, standing. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Harvard Paw!” the kid called after him, using their panda’s paw to wave after him.
The paw-waving operation was too intricate and met with immediate failure. The stuffed bear rolled right off the esplanade. The kid burst into tears. Aiden went to the edge of the walkway, to see if he could retrieve the toy from the sandy shore, but this was one of the points in the esplanade where there were only stone steps leading down into the sea. A black-and-white paw surfaced, buffeted by the tides, as though Mr. Bear were appealing for help.
Harvard was absorbed in his conversation with Arune and had noticed nothing, but Aiden knew what Harvard would have done, if a kid was crying.
So Aiden dropped Harvard Paw, pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes, then dove into the sea.
He submerged for only a moment before surfacing. In the gathering dark of evening, it was difficult to find a single stuffed animal in an ocean of shadows. He snatched at a moving shape, ending up with a fistful of seaweed.
At the edge of the esplanade, a crowd was gathering, their whispering becoming another sea of murmurs. Aiden was able to distinguish, in French, the words “Did a child fall in?” “Is it a puppy?” and “Who is that beautiful merman?”
Then, always singular and distinct to Aiden no matter how many other voices there might be around him, one particular voice said, “Aiden, over there!”
Aiden had gone on a class hunt for Easter eggs when he was eight. He and Harvard had a whole system worked out, so they could find the most chocolate eggs. Aiden was smaller and could wiggle into little places or climb trees, and Harvard could run fast and reach up high. They made a good team.
A light shone on the waters, cast by the flashlight on Harvard’s phone. Aiden followed the beam trustingly, snatched at another dark shape, and found himself holding a sodden panda toy. Then he looked around for the source of light.
Harvard called in his captain’s voice, “Now over here!”
Aiden threw the bear. Then he had his hands free, and with the help of the flashlight, he found the stone steps leading out of the water.
His hair had gone loose, his hair tie lost to the waves. He had to shake the wet mass back as he climbed the stone steps out of the dark sea into the glittering lights of the esplanade.
Someone in the crowd said faintly, “Mon Dieu.”
Arune was holding Harvard Paw. Aiden snatched him back. That was Aiden’s bear, and Arune couldn’t have him.
“How many teddy bears are involved in this situation?” Arune asked.
Harvard, always to be relied upon, had already restored the wet panda toy to his owner. The kid was now clutching the panda, looking up at Harvard, and sniffling.
“Don’t cry, there’s a good boy,” said Harvard.
Oh, was the kid a boy? Okay.
The kid was still crying, but he stopped when Harvard kneeled down, enfolded him in his arms, and patted his back. Aiden glared down at his tiny head. Stupid, lucky children who couldn’t even keep hold of their toys.
“Where’s my shirt?” Aiden demanded.
Apparently, Arune had that, too. Aiden grabbed it back and put it on without thanking him.
The shirt was very little help. The material was soaked through and plastered to Aiden’s wet skin as soon as he shrugged it on. It was warm in Menton, between the Mediterranean and the mountains, but it was still October at night. Aiden shivered and hated the world.
“Oh, hey,” said Harvard, and unzipped his Kings Row hoodie.
Harvard always dressed sensibly for the weather, Aiden thought miserably, and then started when Harvard draped the hoodie around Aiden’s shoulders. Aiden clutched on to it by reflex.
“Come here,” Harvard continued.
“I won’t give it back, I need it,” protested Aiden, still clutching. “I’ll get a chill. I’ll die. How can you be so cruel and unfeeling? Don’t take it away.”
Harvard rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking it away. I’m doing it up, so the night air won’t get inside it. Idiot,” he added affectionately, and cuffed gently at Aiden’s head.
He bullied Aiden into putting his arms in the hoodie sleeves and then zipped it up. Aiden moved in closer. They had gone on exactly one date outside Kings Row, a practice date to the county fair. He and Harvard had gone on the Ferris wheel, and Harvard had put his arm around him. It felt like he might do the same thing now.
He could feel Harvard’s warmth through his wet clothes. Later that night, they had been caught in a rainstorm and kissed frantically up against the door of their dormitory.
I love your hair, Harvard had murmured in Aiden’s ear. For a couple of days after, whenever Aiden looked in the mirror, he’d thought of Harvard saying that, touched his own hair, and smiled.
He wasn’t smiling now. Harvard’s knuckles were resting against Aiden’s stomach. Aiden’s mind was filled with suddenly crucial math. Four points of contact. Two layers of fabric between them. Aiden’s heartbeats, gone too fast and wild to count. Harvard swallowed once.
Aiden startled back, in a movement like a wild bird held in someone’s hands. He couldn’t let himself be held when he wasn’t going to be kept.
“So, uh… you were in the ocean, Aiden?” asked Arune. “We all thought you’d be out on a date with that guy Bastien. He said you’d promised him a date if he won his match.”