PJ didn’t run into Giant on campus during the week, which was normal. They didn’t have any classes together. Once he was eating in the dining hall when Giant came in with some other loudly talking men. He didn’t notice PJ, and PJ couldn’t think of any excuse to walk over to the table where they were flicking one another with pieces of dry cereal and shoveling down food. He sat by himself, pretending to eat and staring at Giant until he left, still surrounded by friends.
Once he passed Bradley in the entryway of the Liberal Arts building. The outside of Bradley’s arm was mottled purple with bruises. If he noticed PJ, he gave no sign of it.
The week passed the way it usually did—a mortifying struggle with classes and social interactions that he didn’t understand, punctuated with discrete a
