The first thing Tulsi notices about Malcolm are his fingers, dark and slender and smooth, as though sculpted from clay. It’s the beginning of junior year, and they’re seated across the aisle from each other in honors Algebra. At the front of the room their teacher, Mr. Brezicki, shares his expectations for the quarter and speaks forcefully on the perils of cheating.
“You take your lives into your own hands, people. Your lives into your own hands.”
