Mom brings iced tea for both of them, flushing when Roy thanks her, as if the acknowledgment is too much. She moves as if she would like to be invisible, same as she always moves, and yet she is clearly curious about Roy. When she retreats downstairs, they take the iced tea as a signal to rest. The evening is almost balmy. Nathan opens the window and takes long breaths. Roy stands, stretching. He sips tea and watches the half finished page on the bed, thoughtful and quiet. "I guess I ought to be embarrassed, getting a kid like you to help me with my homework."
Nathan answers, fervently, "I take English with the juniors. That's just one year behind you. I'm not a kid."
Roy appears confused by what he has said. He blushes a little and reconsiders. "I didn't mean it bad. I mean you're younger than me, that's all." His gentle expression kindles. He approaches closer, and his nearness brings a physical reaction to Nathan, a sudden heaviness, as if his body is sliding toward Roy's. Roy goes on talking with calm ease. "I appreciate the help." "I like to do it."
"You're pretty smart, aren't you? That's what everybody says. I mean, I'm not dumb or anything. But you're different."
He offers no response. But Roy goes on smiling. "We could be buddies, Nathan. You think so?"
His throat is dry and he is suddenly terrified. "Yes. I'd like that."
"You'll like living out here. In the summertime it's real peaceful. Nobody comes around."
"Is it okay to walk in the woods?"
Roy laughs as if the answer is self-evident. "Yeah. I go out there all the time. There's some great places, Indian mounds and camping places and a haunted house and stuff. I'll show you."
"I bet you have a lot of work to do in the summer. Because it's a farm."
"Yeah, but it's all right. It's all outdoor stuff and I like that. You ever live on a farm before?"
"No. We lived in towns before, mostly. But my dad wanted to live in the country this time."
"Why did you move here? Nobody moves to Potter's Lake."
Nathan can feel himself reddening. "My dad got a job. At the Allis Chalmers place in Gibsonville."
He is momentarily afraid that maybe Roy has heard some gossip. A breeze stirs Roy's fine black hair. The lamplight traces one arched brow and outlines a lip, a curve of jaw, a shadowed cheek. He would be handsome if it were not for his nose. Maybe he is handsome anyway. He sees Nathan watching and likes being watched; he squares his shoulders and clenches his jaw. "You like this school stuff, don't you?"
"I guess so. Most of the time."
"I don't see how anybody could like school."
"Beats staying at home all the time," Nathan says, and Roy laughs quietly. He leans toward Nathan. Nathan's breath hovers between them both.
"So you stay at home too much, huh? We can fix that."
They sit quietly in the aftermath of this implied promise. The sense of closeness between them survives the return to work. Roy finishes the paper and stays to copy it over. His handwriting is neat and square, an extension of his blunt hands. After he folds the paper neatly for safekeeping and places it inside his English book, he stays to talk about kids at school, about Randy who put jello mix in Miss Burkette's thermos of ice water, and Burke who beat up a Marine five years older than him at Atlantic Beach last summer. He talks about what it was like in Potter's Lake before integration and avows that the black kids are okay if you get to know them. He talks about baseball. He says he doesn't want to go to college but his folks want him to. He talks more than he has talked in a long time, he says as much himself, with an air of slight surprise.
At last Nathan's mother calls upstairs to remind them it's about bedtime, and Roy stands. He tucks in his shirt and combs his hair at Nathan's dresser. His bundle of books lies on the bed, and when he turns for it he passes close to Nathan, lingering long enough that Nathan notes the difference. He takes the books, and Nathan walks him to the head of the stairs. Roy descends into the murky lower floor and passes out the kitchen doorway.
Nathan waits at the bedroom window, quietly tucked into a fold of curtain. The rich yellow bar of Roy's bedroom light spills across the hedge, and Roy's shadow passes one way and then another, a long teasing interval, until finally Roy returns to his own window. He glows in the warm square of glass. At last he waves to Nathan and disappears.
Nathan remains at the window a little longer, breathless and numb, the memory of the evening wrapping him like a warm mantle.
