Lexicon

shoulder. His fingers found her. It was an awkward angle; she could only squeeze. But the pressure was amazing. Vibration began in her legs. Her teeth chattered. She almost laughed, but that would be no good; she couldn’t do that. He groaned, a low warning, but she ignored it and then he jetted through her fingers. He did it silently. She felt triumphant. The movement of his fingers intensified, and she felt herself going out with the tide of her victory. Her legs kicked once.
    She lay still. He panted into her hair. She could smell their sweat. After a minute, he raised his head. She could see the endorphins in his pupils. He rolled away, onto his side. She used a corner of the sheet to clean herself and lay back beside him. He didn’t speak. She watched the ceiling until his breathing eased into a sleep rhythm, about twenty or thirty minutes, and then, when it was safe, she put her arm around him.
    • • •
    She went to class the next day and no one knew. It was a secret treasure. She sat in the back row and thought:
I had sex with Jeremy Lattern.
    It was Subvisual Methods, a class she liked, but her mind wandered. At odd times, she seemed to catch his smell. Maybe some of him was still on her. She liked that idea.
    A thought popped into her head:
He’s a thirteen.
She blinked. She didn’t know where that had come from. She had considered Jeremy’s segment before and decided he was probably a ninety-four. His behavior matched up almost perfectly; she’d watched him pretty carefully. But now she felt differently. Ninety-four was a cover. He was a thirteen.
    • • •
    After classes, she decided to fetch him a slushie. He would be studying all afternoon and have no time for her; she knew that. She wouldn’t bother him and wouldn’t expect anything to be different. But she would fetch him a slushie.
    On the way out, she noticed Eliot’s door was open. She hesitated. She hadn’t seen him for months, had been looking forward to his next visit, but right now she should probably avoid him. Because maybe Eliot could tell. But then he came out of his office and it was too late. “Hey!” she said. “Busy? You look busy.”
    “Yes. Leaving. But you can walk with me.”
    “Okay.” She fell into step. They walked in silence. She transitioned from being worried that Eliot would figure it out to disappointed that he hadn’t. “How’s life?”
    “How’s life?”
    “Yes.”
    “Life’s good.”
    “Good.” They passed a group of boys loitering with intent, who straightened and shifted. Eliot was well respected here. It was widely believed that he taught so rarely because he was usually required to be away doing mysterious and badass things. “I was thinking about my name. My poet name, I mean, when I graduate. I decided I want to be Emily Dickinson.”
    “You can’t be Dickinson.”
    “I could keep my first name. Also, awesome little poems about death. She’s literally the only poet I don’t hate.”
    “We already have an Emily Dickinson.”
    “Aw.”
    “Also, graduates aren’t given the names of world-renowned poets,” said Eliot. “You’ll be someone you’ve never heard of.”
    “Is there a list I can choose from?”
    “No.”
    “You guys are hard-asses.” They reached the front door and descended the steps. “Well, see you round.”
    He paused. “You’re happier.”
    “What?”
    “You seem happy.”
    She shrugged. “It’s a beautiful day, Eliot, what do you want me to say?” He didn’t answer. “You should get out more,” she said. She walked away. He was going to call her back; she could feel it. He would know everything. But he didn’t, and her tension eased, and by the time she reached the gate, she was humming.
    • • •
    She purchased two slushies and almost got hit by a car running across the road while carrying them back. She balanced them in the crook of her arm and knocked on Jeremy’s door. When he called out, she pushed the door open with her hip. “Refreshment!”
    He looked at the slushies. He wasn’t as happy as she’d hoped.
    “Thank you, Emily,” she said.
    “Thanks.”
    She deposited the slushie on his desk and leaned her butt against the wall. She had intended to give him the drink and go, but now she didn’t want to. “How’s the study going?”
    “Slowly.”
    She nodded. “I’ll leave you to it.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Unless you want a study break.” She raised her eyebrows.
    “That can’t happen again.”
    “What can’t