When it was over, Bernini clicked the TV off.

“You should be proud of this book, Jeremy. You are very much a part of it. It was a pleasure to work with you.”

I felt a cold sensation.

“Professor Bernini, you said it’s just a draft, right?”

“Yes.”

His eyes danced around, reading my expression, my body language, betraying nothing.

“Won’t you be revising it?”

“Yes,” he said after a pause. “Almost certainly.”

“Well, if you need more research, I’m happy to do it.”

“I appreciate that, Jeremy,” he said kindly. “But you’ve done so much. And a book could always benefit from a fresh perspective in the next round.”

He folded his hands and waited.

“I understand.” I stood. I felt like layers of myself were melting away. I just wanted to get out of his office before there was nothing left. “Thank you for the opportunity.” I started to walk out quickly.

“Jeremy?”

“Yes?” I said, stopping, turning around.

Tell me something good.

“My key?” he said patiently, holding out his hand. His kind eyes smiled at me, but the twinkle was muted, out of respect for the freshly dead.

I fished the keys out of my pocket. I had to suffer the indignity of winding his key off my ring, something I fumbled with in the best of circumstances. Finally, I dropped it in his palm, and he closed his hand.

He walked me to the door. He patted me on the back and said, “Best of luck to you, Jeremy. You’ll be a fine lawyer.”

Coffin shut, nailed, dropped.

I started down the hallway.

Coming in the opposite direction was none other than Humpty Dumpty himself, Arthur Peabody: short, waddling, charging head forward, bow tie askew, long jowls jostling with each step. He looked me over, snorted, glanced past me down the hall.

“Another one of your victories, Ernesto?” he called down the hall to Bernini.

“Good morning, Arthur,” Bernini said flatly from behind me.

As Arthur Peabody passed, I smelled the cloud of liquor.

“Was this one too good or not good enough?”

“That’s enough, Arthur.”

There was a warning in his voice. I had no idea what Humpty meant. I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted out of that hallway.

“Why don’t you tell him the joke?” Humpty Dumpty said. “Maybe he’ll thank you.”

“Enough,” Bernini snapped. I’d never heard him so angry. “Remember your deal,” he said to Peabody.

Two doors slammed behind me, moments apart.

The fucking elevator couldn’t come fast enough.

• • •

I called my parents for the first time in a month. My dad answered the phone.

“We thought you were dead,” he said dryly.

“No, Dad. Just crazy. Too much work.” I tried to sound light-hearted. “I won the mock trial.”

“Hey, that’s great. Way to go. You’re not letting the big shots push you around, are you?” This was a common theme for my dad, ever since he decided that he was a speck in the universe, meaningless, powerless.

“No way, Dad. I’m pushing them around.”

“That’s my boy.”

“Hey, let me talk to Mom, okay?”

“Sure.”

My mom picked up the phone.

“Hi sweetie.”

“Hi Mom.”

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Ma. How’s Dad doing?”

“He’s fine. How are you?”

“Is he taking his medicine?”

“Yes, honey. We’re taking care of everything. You don’t need to worry.”

“He hates the beta blocker. Make sure he’s really taking it.”

“Honey, what’s wrong? Is everything okay at school?”

“Yeah. Everything’s great. I’ve got lots of friends. I’m learning a lot.” I closed my eyes. “I need to run to class. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Honey?”

“I really need to run, Mom.”

“You call me if you need to talk. Okay, sweetie? Anytime.”

“Okay, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I hung up.

Daphne left her house at seven o’clock. I’d been waiting in the park across the street. She was reading something small, then put it back in her purse. I stopped her in the middle of the road.

“Jeremy, what are you doing here?”

“Where are you going?”

“What do you mean, where am I going?”

“Answer my question.”

“Jeremy, you’re freaking me out.”

“I gave you everything,” I snapped. She took a step back. “I won that fucking trial for you. I destroyed that girl. I took her apart. I did that for you.”

“Jeremy, this isn’t going to help anything.”

“Help? Help? Bernini just took his fucking key back.” I felt my head pounding. “I did everything you said. Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

She paused.

“You know I can’t.”

She actually looked sorry.

“What’s in your purse?”

“Excuse me?”

“Give me your purse.”

“Jeremy, don’t do this.”

I grabbed for her purse. Jesus Christ, what was I doing? She put her hands up, let me take it. She stood back and folded her arms. I went through it roughly: makeup, pens, aspirin, coins. There was a square of off-white card stock, familiar. We are delighted to request your attendance… Today’s date. Seven thirty. Delighted. I handed her purse back.

“Did Nigel get one?”

For a while she just stood there. I felt my fists balling up, clenching. Then she nodded.

“John?”

Another nod.

I pressed my hand over my face.

“Bernini took his key back,” I said again. I looked at her. “I’m going to fail my classes. I haven’t opened a book all semester. Even if I pass, I won’t get a job. Everything I did means nothing now, doesn’t it?”

She tried to put her hand on my shoulder.

I had never seen her in direct sunlight before. Always indoors, in the library, the classroom, the ballroom. She was still beautiful, but more real. Her hand was on my shoulder. She looked brittle; how badly she wanted all this!

“What do you think I could do?” she asked me.

I had no answer.

“I’m sorry, Jeremy, I really am.”

She slung her purse.

“Please don’t follow me.”

16

When the weekend arrived, I realized I had no friends. Nigel and John had avoided me all week. I couldn’t even think of Daphne without remembering the other night outside her house and cringing. In the first months of school, I hadn’t bothered to spend time with anyone else.

I went to the library. I decided to start from the beginning. I opened my Torts book, and it was suddenly clear that it was an impossible task. We were hundreds of pages deep into every class. Exams were in two weeks. Most people were reviewing now. And I was on page one. Humpty Dumpty ruled over the library; tonight, I didn’t see him in the flesh, but his ghost was here. The specter of failure.

I felt someone watching me. It was one of the librarians, a painfully shy little man who always looked down and never said a word to anyone. He was more ruffled and ignored than half the books. He saw me looking and went back to stamping returns.

After a while I couldn’t take it and went to the Idle for a drink and cheap dinner. A pretty girl sat next to me at the bar. I was lonely. She made me think of the neurosurgeon who spilled her oranges in the yard. “How’s it going?” I asked. She mumbled an uninterested “Fine” and looked back to her friends.

“Let me show you,” said a voice behind me, as two large hands fell on my shoulders. John Anderson walked around to another of the girls. He was a foot taller than her. He gave a magical smile. “How’s it going?” he said amiably. “Good,” she said, “how are you?” “Good.” He grinned. One of the other girls smiled back. “Hey,” she said, “my friend just got her glasses today. Don’t they look sexy?” He laughed and agreed. I threw some money down and started to leave.

“See,” John said. “It’s not what you say. It’s who says it.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

“No, fuck you. I never liked you.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. I shrugged him off and walked away.