“I went the first few years here, but it’s pretty much the same week after week.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Never having attended a single dance, I wasn’t in a position to know, but it seemed I might as well agree. “Okay,” I said. “It’s pretty short.”

He reached back and made a loop with his thumb and index finger, as if to catch his ponytail, but all his fingers circled was air. “Holy shit.”

“Is that okay?”

“No, yeah, it’s great.” He rubbed his fingertips a few times against the place where his hairline and his neck met. “It’s totally what I wanted. It’s just different.”

“I still need to clean it up. Put your shoulders back again.”

He did as I’d instructed, and I resumed trimming. The part I was least sure of was the hair that grew from the crown of his head-how long was I supposed to leave it? I walked in front of him again, my body between him and the TV, and I pushed back the hair that fell on either side of his temples. “Do you want bangs? You do, right?”

“Do I?”

“I think it would look kind of weird if you didn’t have them.”

“Sure, then. That’s cool.”

“Close your eyes.”

He did, and for several seconds, I looked at his face. There were freckles across his nose and cheeks that you couldn’t see from farther away, and, on the right side of his chin, a mostly healed zit that he’d popped, from the looks of it, three or four days ago. Also on his chin, there was a little golden stubble around the tip, and there was some above his mouth, too. I felt a tenderness, almost a protectiveness, toward him that surprised me. It was strange to remember that I’d thought I had a crush on him, though I also knew that such a crush, a false crush if crushes were not all by definition false, could rise again with enough distance. But here, with the two of us positioned so close together, he reminded me of myself; he was far too much like me for me to love.

I continued cutting, and every time I stepped away from him to examine my progress, I thought, Not bad. Maybe I actually could cut hair.

At last, I said, “Open your eyes. I think you’re done.”

“Is there a mirror around here?”

“In the bathroom.” I pointed to the door next to the phone booth, and when he walked over, I followed him and stood behind him.

“Whoa,” he said, and my heart seized, but then he grinned. He ran one hand back through it. “Hey, nice job,” he said. “Thanks a lot.”

I grinned back at him. “My pleasure.”

“I should pay you or something.”

“Oh, God.” I shook my head. “Of course not.” The thought was mortifying, uncomfortably close to being paid to, say, vacuum a dormmate’s room.

“Hey, you know what?” Tullis said. “Would you mind shaving the back of my neck? Would that be totally gross?”

In fact, the request flattered me.

“I can get my razor,” he added.

“I’ll just use one of mine. It’s no big deal.” The razor I retrieved from my toiletry bucket upstairs was pink plastic. I filled a mug with water from the kitchen sink and set the mug and a bar of soap on top of the television. Tullis sat in the chair again, turning around so he was straddling it, his back to the TV. I dipped my fingers in the water, rubbed them against the soap, then rubbed my fingers against his neck. As soon as I was touching his skin, with him facing away from me, it became possible again to imagine having a crush on him. We didn’t speak at all as I spread the lather, set the razor against his neck, pulled on it, dipped it in the cup of water, set it back against his neck. “Arguments that Atlantis was the island of Thera,” said the television narrator, “are bolstered by evidence of a volcanic eruption on Thera in 1500 B.C., which caused the majority of the island to sink into the sea.” What was Tullis thinking? I wondered. What did my fingers feel like to him? But I doubted I was a girl guys saw in that way. Only in the taxi with Cross had I gotten any evidence that someone might.

When I was pretty sure I’d shaved all the hair from his neck, I ran my fingers over his skin, and it was very smooth. “Okay,” I said, and my voice sounded ordinary. “All finished.”

He reached back and rubbed his neck. “Thanks,” he said. “I could have tried to do that, but I’d probably have cut myself, like, ten times.” He stood and carried the chair back to the table, and while he did, I bundled up the hair-strewn newspaper and smashed it down in the trash. I could feel that he was going to leave in the next minute or so. Up until this point, I’d hoped no one would return to the dorm because I didn’t want to have to explain what was going on; if it all got called into question, Tullis might change his mind in the middle. Plus, I’d felt that Tullis and I were developing a sort of rapport (it was low-key, I knew that, it wasn’t like we were now going to be friends) and I hadn’t wanted it interrupted. I could imagine one of the other girls in the dorm approaching, standing in my way probably, shrieking, “Tullis, I can’t believe you’re letting her cut so much! Tullis, you are crazy!” But now that the haircut was complete and he was about to take off, I felt a twinge of disappointment that no one had seen it happen. I had liked this incarnation of myself, I realized, and I wouldn’t have minded an audience for it. It was like when Tim, the younger of my two brothers, was born, and my mother would let me take him outside and push him in a stroller as long as I stayed on our street and I always thought-I was eleven-that if only the boys from my class, a few of whom did live nearby, could see me, surely they’d all develop crushes on me immediately because I was so cool like this, so grown-up. I mean, taking care of my baby brother? Out all by myself?

I poured the soapy water down the drain and set the mug in the sink. I was still holding the razor. I could imagine saving it, not to use, not to do anything with, just setting it in the cardboard box under my bed where I kept old notebooks and term papers and the programs from school performances. But Tullis might notice if I didn’t throw away the razor, and it might seem weird, it might seem Audrey Flahertyish. I tossed it in the trash.

“Thanks again,” Tullis said.

“No problem.”

He had approached the sink, and we stood facing each other. He stuck out his hand, and we shook. “I see a big future for you,” he said. “Salons all across the country. Celebrity clients.”

I rolled my eyes. “That would be a really good use of my Ault education.”

“You could do worse. All right. I’ll see you around.” He was a few feet from the door when he turned back. “I’m really sorry. This is terrible. But your name-is your name-”

“Lee,” I said. “Lee Fiora.”

“Right, right.” He nodded. “It’s like, Ault’s so small, but by the time you’re a senior-”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“All right. Well, thanks, Lee.” He grinned, and I thought again that he really did have the best smile in the world. Also, I thought, I had given him a first-rate haircut. How this had happened was beyond me.

He was turning again when I blurted out, “Actually-” and he said, “Oh, sorry, I’m Tullis-”

“No, I know who you are. I just wanted to tell you, I know this was a long time ago, but I wanted to tell you that I thought when you played guitar in the talent show last year, that was really good.”

He was still smiling. I loved boys, I thought. All of them.

When he left, he waved the way he had before he’d exited the stage after singing “Fire and Rain.”

The place where Dede went to reflect on life, according to her essay for English class, was a window seat on the landing between the first and second floors of her family’s house in Scarsdale. Darden said he reflected while riding the 2/3 subway, and Aspeth said she reflected during the summer, whenever she took her grandfather’s yawl out on Long Island Sound. (I believed that Aspeth spent the summer on Long Island, and that her grandfather had a boat and even that she went out in it, but not that she went out by herself-it was my observation that beautiful and popular people rarely spent time alone.) Martin Weiher read about how he reflected while on the toilet, and that got a laugh, and then Jeff Oltiss read the same thing, and people didn’t laugh as much for him, because he wasn’t as cool as Martin and because he’d gone second.