CHAPTER 12
KENDRICK
It’s nice to listen to the students talking animatedly about what we’re here for. They’re excited about tomorrow, the school, the students, the student life. They’re excited to tell them all about RDU. That’s exactly what I was hoping for.
I try to split my attention evenly three ways, with one on Brevan—as I didn’t miss the way he bowed his head, becoming quiet as soon as Anna and Philomena approached—second, I watch the two girls, and third, I try to remain engaged with the conversation.
I’m not opposed to forgiveness if someone makes a mistake. Not at all. I don’t think anyone has a right to forgiveness, though. Your actions and words have consequences, and if you’re going to engage in either medium in an unsavory way, then the consequences are yours alone.
I note Anna trying to talk to Brevan, attempting to get him talking a few times. He seems to sink further into himself whenever she addresses him, though. Thankfully, she gets the hint and leaves him alone after the third attempt.
Brevan is much more willing to talk if someone outside the two girls engages with him. That makes me feel better. I don’t blame him. Why would you want to talk to people who you know think you’re a stupid jock? I can’t imagine that feels good.
“tóreargleei has an Arctic studies program,” Wendy says. “I’m dying to know more about that. I didn’t even know that Iceland’s an Arctic state until researching for this trip. That’s exciting!”
“That’s really cool,” Jerome agrees. “I didn’t know that either.”
“Okay, wait,” Xile says. “How do you say the name of the school? I’ve been pronouncing it TOR-dark-leh-dee.”
“Well, according to the internet, it’s THOR-thar-gleh-dih. It means happiness and joy,” Wendy says.
“I’ve also seen it translated to Thor’s joy,” Brevan offers, his voice timid.
“I saw that meaning too,” Wendy says, offering him a big smile. Brevan returns it, though with less sunshine behind it.
“It’s cool that we’re going to a school that has the same meaning as ours,” Xile says.
I’m not the only one who looks at them.
“Oh?” Jerome asks, raising a brow.
“How can a rainbow mean anything other than joy? And I’m sorry, but when do you see a rainbow?” Xile says.
“After a lightning storm,” Anna answers, grinning.
“And who controls lightning?” Xile prompts.
“Zeus,” Samuel, Corwin, and Mercy say together.
Xile rolls their eyes. “Sure, maybe in Greece. But here, it’s Thor. So yeah, our schools are already related.”
“I hate to spoil your theory, but Dorset has something to do with docile, white-faced sheep,” Zarek says. “Or it refers to a county in southwest England. Or it refers to a prehistoric culture in the American Arctic during the 1st millennium CE and was displaced by the Thule culture.”
“That’s the last name,” Xile says without missing a beat.
“Like… last names trace our lineage, right? Clearly, we came from somewhere. In this case, we’re sheep from descendants of England who established a base in the frozen north.
I’d like to point out that we’ve once more made a full circle and we’re back in the frozen north. Thor’s land!”
I chuckle. I can get on board with that.
“Do you know where the name of the school came from, Dr. Keller?” Philomena asks.
“I do. Does anyone know the name of the founder?” I ask.
“Edward Bovey, in 1911,” Sarabeth answers. “He named the school Dorset University. But he wasn’t from Dorset County. He was from Stratford-upon-Avon, which is not within Dorset County nor within the southwest at all.”
“Very good. Edward Bovey’s close friend and longtime roommate until his death in 1923, Charles, was from Dorset county and his family was well known for their dorset sheep,” I tell them.
“Roommate,” Xile sputters.
“I bet it’s noted how sad it is that neither man ever married,” Sarabeth comments.
“Tragic that after his close friend Charles’s death, Edward was so overcome with grief at losing his friend he remained a bachelor until his death eight years later,” Zarek comments.
I grin. I’m not surprised that Zarek knows the story. He’s a damn brilliant man. While he’s with RDU for his mathematical inclination, there’s no limit to the depths of knowledge he proves to have.
While I don’t roll my eyes, several of my students do. I don’t necessarily condone eye-rolling as a proper form of displaying your displeasure or disagreement, but in this case, I’m definitely rolling my eyes with them. Only I’m doing so internally.
“Why was ‘rainbow’ added to the title?” Philomena asks.
“In 1980, when Provost Jeannette Williamson accepted the mantle, the school began a true move forward in pushing queer acceptance. In a move to honor Edward and Charles, she added Rainbow to our school title—an overt and brave move to not only announce to the world that we, as queer folk, were here and proud, but also as a beacon to young queer people that there was a place for them to learn in safety,” Zarek answers.
“I love this school even more,” Mercy says, sighing.
Beside me, Brevan nods. “That’s beautiful.”
“I think there should be a monument to Edward Bovey and Charles on campus somewhere,” Xile says, frowning. “There are so many, but not for our queer founder.”
I hum, nodding in agreement. “I agree, and it’s something we’ve tossed around for years.
We could do something predictable like a statue or a painting, right?
Plaques? But none of that feels big enough for the legacy he created.
I would really love to do something that makes everyone stop by to learn about Bovey and his lover.
Something that people can’t, won’t be able, or want to overlook.
I’ve yet to think of or hear of anything that truly captures that spirit.
I don’t plan to retire anytime soon, but it’s on my list of things I truly hope to accomplish before I do. ”
“That’s a great idea,” Wendy says. “Have you considered putting it out to students for suggestions?”
Byndley bows her head to hide her smile.
“I have,” I say. “The reason I hesitate to do so isn’t that I don’t want your opinions—I absolutely do.
But I feel that if I ask students to submit their ideas, I’m leading into the expectation that I need to choose one from the submissions.
If I don’t see the right idea, then I don’t want to be forced to make one come to light just because I opened the project to submissions. ”
“I like your passion about this, Dr. Keller,” Xile says, “and I hope you don’t take offense to this, but I think you’re overthinking.”
Now Byndley covers her mouth with her hand, and when her eyes meet mine, they’re filled with mirth. Ugh. I’m not going to hear the end of this later.
“Oh?”
“I think you made your argument really clear to us, right?” They look around the group, and everyone nods. “Which means I think you can make it really clear to everyone.”
“Xile’s right. Tell the story of Edward and Charles just like you did.
Maybe expand on it if you know more. Then put it out there that you’re open to ideas for honoring them, but until you’re convinced you’ve found the right one, submissions will stay open.
” Corwin presses his lips together. “More eloquently than that, maybe.”
Byndley nods her agreement. “Thank you for that encouragement. Maybe you’re right.”
Conversation remains entertaining and light throughout dinner.
I enjoy their chatter and the range of topics they move between.
I especially love that there aren’t half a dozen smaller conversations breaking out over the table, but how they’ve made a point of conversing together.
Perhaps they’re doing so unconsciously. Whatever the means, I enjoy getting lost in it.
When dinner is over, everyone gets to their feet and begins bundling up.
“It’s still too early to sleep,” Sarabeth notes. “Want to wander around town for a bit? See what there is to see to pass the time until it’s appropriately late enough to sleep?”
The question is for the entire group. Almost everyone agrees. I keep an eye on Brevan out of the corner of my eye. He doesn’t answer until he sees that Anna and Philomena intend to go with the group, so he backs out.
“I might hang around here,” he says quietly.
“Are you sure?” Wendy asks. “You want some company?”
Brevan shakes his head, offering her a smile. “It’s okay. Go and have fun.”
“I’m staying with you,” Xile says, linking their arm through Brevan’s. “We can have fun all on our own.” They give Brevan a playful, suggestive wink.
Brevan… misses the hint. It seems to go right over his head. He smiles at Xile, even as he tries to convince Xile that he’ll be fine alone.
“Sure you will, but it’ll be better with company,” Xile says. “Promise.”
Snickers and grins leave us as the group heads out. Katai, Byndley, Zarek, and I remain with the two not joining the group checking out the town. Brevan looks shyly between us, becoming more self-conscious as the minutes pass.
“I read that there’s a bar down the road holding trivia night,” Katai says. “Shall we see if Icelandic trivia is different from American trivia?”
Brevan bites his lower lip, but Xile nods readily. “Hell, yeah. Let’s go. Want to, Brev?”
I’m not expecting my heart to jump when his eyes meet mine. I nod, encouraging him to join us. I have a feeling if he decides to stay that none of us will go. But I also think that the smiles surrounding him when Brevan eventually agrees are genuine.
“Awesome,” Xile says as we head outside. “I’m about to show you all that I’m a master at trivia. I hold the title of trivia champion in Podunk, Iowa.”
Zarek snorts.
The air is almost biting once we step outside now that the sun has gone down. It’s windy, and I wish I had my scarf. I’ll need to commit this to memory for the rest of the trip. Always bring the scarf. Even if it’s not entirely necessary at the moment.
I keep an eye on Brevan as we walk. Xile happily carries the conversation, needing very little input from anyone else. I’m not sure if they’re doing so intentionally, but the longer they talk and let Brevan’s mind slip away from the girls who hurt him, the more relaxed Brevan becomes.
Finally, Brevan smiles at something Xile says. A real smile. One that covers much of his face. I can feel that smile. It’s like warm fingers of the sun on a chilly day. The way it brushes your skin, and you close your eyes to revel in it.
My attention on Brevan was only meant to assure us both that he’s not feeling as though he doesn’t belong here.
If I could find a way to make sure he understands that I’d choose him again and again for this program without calling attention to how those girls made him feel or letting him believe I’m saying it because of that, I would.
It’s not often that you meet a truly gentle soul. He’s a big guy, necessary for the position he plays on the football field. The moment you look into his captivating green eyes, you know that he’s never going to be the stereotype that comes with his athletic position.
He has feelings he doesn’t manage to hide.
He’s sensitive. Words affect him worse than a physical blow.
He’s kind, genuine, and while I haven’t heard him claim that he’s not smart, our conversations prove that he’s anything but unintelligent.
He has passion and drive. He shows excitement about the future.
It’s been a very long time since I’ve taken an interest in someone. So long, in fact, that it takes me the entire walk to the bar to understand that interest is what I’m feeling. But does he feel the same way?
When his eyes meet mine across the table many times throughout the night and we share smiles just between us, I have to think that maybe he does.
Hopefully, he does.