"That's a cool bike"
I look up, and my eyes connect with the bluest eyes I have ever seen.
"You know, students aren't allowed to have motorcycles," he says.
"Yeah, students aren't allowed to do a lot of things," I have to look away.
The feeling that hits me is totally unexpected. I clear my throat as I feel
my voice cracking. "Hasn't stopped me yet."
"Well, I guarantee you, if you keep riding around on that hog, someone
will. Unless you got an ally. Someone with connections high up. Someone
that wants to take a ride on that bike sometime."
Right. I can see where this is going. Of course he didn't come up to me
just make an accountancies. Upper class people don't make accountancies
that way, they are introduced. He just wanted me to know that he had
something on me. But, that is life, isn't it? We don't have friends, we
have people that can do us favors, that we step on to reach our destination
in life. My mother taught me that when I was eight.
"I'm like a Swiss vault, I can keep a secret."
"Can you?" I reply, and look him square in the face.
Fortunately, we were interrupted by Finn, "no mister", crew-coach-slash-lit-
teacher. Good timing. The guy is a total loon. He makes you look at things
in a serious, non-serious way, if you get my drift. All the other teachers
are pushing a 110% effort at all time, but in Finns classes we're allowed
to relax as long as we stay focused and doesn't goof off too much.
Today we had to go through "the swimming portion of our summer curriculum"
as Finn called it. That is, we where given the opportunity to go for a swim
in the middle of class. Most of the boys already had their shirts off, and
went right inn, just their shorts or sweatpants still on. I hesitated but
couldn't bring my self to strip down to bare chest and sweats. It's not
that I'm conscious about my body. I mean, compared to these crew-boys I
know I have inferior upper body strength, there's a reason I'm the
coxswain, but I'm not that scrawny for my age. Consuela always comfort me,
that boys stretch, then fill out. I guess I've done most of the stretching,
but everybody seems to fill out ahead of me. It's just that growing up
around the stage I have seen too many actors and dancers been judged
solemnly by their appearance and nothing else. Then there's that big-ass
scar on my chest. People stare. They don't mean, but they do. So, I started
to hide. The less they see, the fewer flaws they can pick on, right? So I
only take off my cap. I even leave the bulky hooded sweatshirt.
I turn towards source of the noise to identify the person that deem it self
important enough to interrupt my quality time with my laptop. Great, it's
"mister Swiss Vault".
"Feel free to barge right in."
"Sorry", he indicates the open door behind him, looking rather confused,
remembering the unwritten rules of privacy, but not quite sure if he has
broken any. I cannot help but to smile at his perplexed look, and he
"So, you find a place to stash your bike yet?"
"Well, after six schools you get a handle on these things." As if I ever
needed his help!
"Parents move a lot?" It is more a statement than a question, so my
response surprises him.
I keep tapping along on the keyboard, partly hoping he will take the hint
and leave, partly hoping that he won't.
"Oh. So why would you keep switching?"
"Waiting for someone to notice." I say it like it is the most obvious thing
in the world.
"They don't know?"
"Nope. Get inside my mom's email account, send a letter as her, and her
attorney wires the money wherever I say. The wonders of the digital age."
"So, that's how you scammed the single room?"
"Scammed the single room? You should see what happens when I hack into your
I nod at him, indicating for him to join me at the computer, as I start
working my way into the schools database. It is childs play now that I have
done it a few times, and I'm in in under 3 minutes. Hamilton looks at the
screen in aw. He's impressed, and I feel a tingling sensation of pride in
the pit of my stomach. I've never showed off my hacking skills to anyone
before. I mean, I've shared experience with people I've met on news-groups
and chat rooms, but I never had any real life friends that would even be
We goof around for a while, checking out every students grades. I don't
know most of these people, but Hamilton fills me in. Before we know it's
dark outside, but we're having too much fun to notice, as we snoop around
every nook and cranny of the school database.
"The lunch budget is 86 cents per student? I don't think so." I lean in to
do a small correction. It's a good way of getting caught, but this is just
too extreme not to be tampered with.
"Wait." I look up at him, and in a mock seriousness he claims, "I think
it's only fair that as the Dean's son, I should rectify this."
"All right." I laugh and lean back, giving him access to the keyboard.
He thinks for a while before he states with childlike enthusiasm, "Lobster
for everyone," and move the comma two places to the right. Good move. That
doesn't really leave a hacker trace as it could just as easily be an
"You smell good." My heart leaps as we both realize what he just said. "I
"No, it's OK."
"But no, I didn't mean."
There's a light knock on the door and Finn peeks in.
"OK, boys. Lights out. Hamilton, you should head home."
Saved by the bell. Or by Finn, anyway. That man has impeccable timing.
"I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, I'll see you."
I just hope we can pick up with out the awkwardness. I've enjoyed hanging
out with Hamilton. With having someone like him to hang out with maybe this
summer session won't be such a drag.