Page 7 of On the Edge

“Summers are the best because Carter is home all thetime. You can teach me to make German dishes and Carter can be our guinea pig.”

Frowning, I sort through my knowledge of English phrases. I know a guinea pig is a sort of pet rodent, but I’m unsure of how one relates to Carter eating German food. I hope he’s not thinking I will feed them guinea pigs. Deciding it’s probably not a distinction that’s important to the conversation, I simply smile and nod. It reminds me of Atlas, and his correction of my grammar.

“There was another thing I wished to discuss with you, if you have more time to spare.”

“Hit me,” he answers, closing his math textbook and sliding it to the side.

“I need assistance with my Creative Communications partner. He dislikes me.”

Zeke blinks at me, head tilted a degree to the side. He looks surprised.

“Uhm,” he says, “what?”

Sighing, I explain to him all my encounters with Atlas thus far. The more I talk, the more his face scrunches up and his eyes narrow. By the time I fall silent, I’ve figured out the expression: he’s angry on my behalf.

“Well, he sounds rude,” Zeke says shortly. “I don’t think you should talk to him at all.”

“We are partners all semester,” I remind him.

“Talk to him the bare minimum to get your work done,” he advises, making me grimace. He sighs and takes pity on me. “Kill him with kindness.”

This is a saying I’m familiar with.

“Indeed. That is the best plan I have,” I confirm.

“Totally unrelated, and has no bearing on the conversationwhatsoever, but do you want to know the origin of ‘killing with kindness’?” He waits for me to nod, eyes wide with barely contained excitement. “Well, most credit Shakespeare, but a case could also be made that it originates from apes’ propensity of hugging their young too tightly and killing them.”

“Well then,” I say, for want of anything better. And then, because even with my tenuous grasp of the English language, I can recognize an easy joke when I see one: “Perhaps I will simply give Atlas a tight hug.”

Zeke laughs, and I love him for it.

“Honestly, it sounds like he needs one,” he agrees.

We chat quietly for a few more moments, before Zeke’s phone buzzes with a text message. I can tell it’s Carter by the way his smile turns fond and his eyes soften. A spike of envy worms through my chest. I wish I had a Carter or a Zeke to text me. I wish I had someone who was my own.

Zeke taps out a reply and looks up at me, catching what must be a telling expression on my face.

“You okay?”

“I have found that college is very alone,” I admit. He nods even though that hadn’t sounded quite right. “I am glad I have hockey, or I would not have anything. It is hard to make friends.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees sadly. “Meaningful relationships are difficult to cultivate. But they’re worth it when you have them.”

Zeke unlocks his phone screen, swiping through a few things before laying it flat on the table and sliding it over to me. Angling my head, I look at the text message thread with Carter.

Zeke

Vas is applying to an internship with your team for next summer. He won’t be able to stay in the dorms though, because campus will be closed.

Carter

I’ll text him. He should stay with us.

“See,” Zeke whispers, after giving me a moment to read the messages. “We want you to stay with us.”

“Ask him about the money?—”

“No money,” Zeke interrupts. “You’re a good friend. Let us do this for you.”

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