Page 133 of Cold as Ice

Mal hung up the phone and accelerated into a slow jog, getting a few weird looks as he cut across the quad.

But it paid off, because Mal spied Elliott about to walk into Hood, the farthest classroom building.

He caught up to him on the stairs up to the front door and grabbed his arm.

Elliott’s whole face bloomed into a pleased but astonished smile.

“Mal, what are you doing here? You have class in—”

“I know,” Mal said. He’d be late, for sure. But he’d stored up plenty of goodwill over the years and if he used a little of it now, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “I talked to Dr. Bricker just now. Dr. Howard, the chair of the department, is going to administer a second test and grade it herself. This afternoon.”

Elliott’s jaw dropped. “Today? This afternoon?” His voice was edging higher, into nervous hysteria.

“Yeah, it’s quick, but think about it—youknowthis material. We made sure of it. And tonight, you’re never going to have to worry about missing a single practice, at least not because of that bitch Dr. Prosser.”

“Mal!” Elliott exclaimed.

“What? Sheis,” Mal said. “She fucked you over, and if she gets fucked over because of that, I’m not going to be sorry.” Maybe there was something to this morally gray hero business. It feltgoodsaying those things. Sure he was really righting an injustice, but it felt like more than that, too.

Sometimes, like Elliott liked to say, you had to color outside the lines to end up with a beautiful picture.

“You really believe I can do this?” Elliott asked.

Mal knew what he was asking—what he wasreallyasking, because there was a vulnerability in his eyes now that Elliott didn’t show to many people. Or to anybody, really. A vulnerability that Malcolm hadn’t been convinced even existed until he’d gotten to know him better.

“I’ve never believed anything else,” Mal said.

The corner of Elliott’s mouth tilted up. “You sure about that?”

“Even when I thought you were a careless, thoughtless party boy, I still thought you were good at what you did. It made me a little crazy, but it’s true.”

“A lot crazy, I’d imagine,” Elliott teased, swaying towards him. Mal wanted to touch him, to pull him close, to kiss him. But they were right on the quad, standing at the steps of Hood. Everyone would see, and imagine they understood what was going on.

Well, they’d be right.

“I want to kiss you,” Mal said.

Elliott made a face. “I want you to kiss me. We should—”

Mal had a feeling he knew what he was about to say, “No,” he said, pressing his fingers lightly to Elliott’s mouth and then pulling them away. “Not yet. Let’s get through this, first.”

“I was just gonna say I’m not going to live my life hiding,” Elliott said softly. “Whatever that means. And I think you’re right there with me.”

His father would probably disagree with that assessment. But then he’d wanted Malcolm to be his clone forever.

Malcolm wasn’t, though.

And he wanted things—believed in different things, too—that weren’t his father.

Would it maybe damage Elliott’s chances of being drafted by Toronto?

Possibly.

But if that happened, and they werestillhiding, how would it feel, in the end?

Mal had a feeling it wouldn’t feel much like a win.

“We . . .let’s get through this,” Mal said. “Then we’ll talk about it. Maybe even . . .we should really loop Coach Blackburn in. Get his take on it.”

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