Nathan nodded. In their high school, the boys’ locker room was down a short flight of stairs; one wall in the coach’s office was a large reinforced window that looked out over the double row of lockers that framed a long bench. The bench stretched from one end of the locker room to the other, from the window to the showers. Kids used to joke that the coach got his kicks watching them change for gym, but that window and the stern-faced teacher staring through it deterred bullying.
Wes’s voice was distant, lost in the past. “I’d just entered the office to grab the grade book, didn’t even bother to turn on the light, when I saw movement down in the locker room. Just from the corner of my eye. So I look out the window and…well, you were—”
“What?” Nathan asked. His grin widened into a leer
