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I know it took no longer than the turning of my head to look at him. It was in my heart to cut him hard, and I could have done it. But for some reason that wasn't yet clear I felt an acute need to dissemble.
    I thought I remembered you, I said brightly. And my daddywasn't his hair dark?
    I could see I puzzled him. His mind was in high gear. Had he remembered me as brighter, more articulate than I appeared now? I couldn't resist a stiletto dig to his vanity. Aren't you fatter?
    No. Exactly the same weight. I take care of myself.
    It might seem odd, but from indifference to Jeff Talbot I suddenly, because of one cruel phrase, became intensely involved. At the moment of Jack Foster's speaking, his beauty, the beauty of his whole person struck me with a physical force. It was, in every sense of the word, an infatuation. With it came the knowledge of the form that infatuation must take. I felt a need to have him need me. I would protect him from the world. I had long felt strong enough to face the whole world myself, for myself. Now I knew I had the strength to face it for the both of us.
    I mentioned before my absolute contempt for organized athletic activities. With many the contempt is born out of inability, from ineptness. Mine was an intellectual contempt.
    Now, hardly a minute after Foster's remark, I did exactly what he should have been doing. I jogged over to where Jeff was nearly in tears at his inability to kick a soccer ball, and I showed him exactly how it should be done. That I could do it at all surprised the others. That I could do it superbly well and teach it quickly and effectively disconcerted Jack Foster. He blew his whistle to indicate that the athletic period was over, though it still lacked fifteen minutes by the clock. I felt a heady triumph. And I played it carefully. I must not reveal my hand too soon. See you around, I said to Jeff, and I went to the shower room.
    Jeff seemed sensitive to the moment and I was glad. It would have been natural for him to come stand next to his benefactor in the shower had he been less mature, less astute. He stood by himself.
    For the first time I took a good look at Jeff Talbot. His whole body was as exquisite as his face. I had watched him jogging to the shower. His carriage was nearly perfect. He had a natural grace of movement that accented his good looks. If there had been anything even slightly effeminate about his movements I know the others would have been quick to seize upon it.
    His genitals were as beautiful as the rest of him, would have tempted me unbearably had I not been so strong-minded. He was circumcised, but lovingly, with a sufficient flap to give his penis character and definition. His testicles were large-average, blended magnificently with the rest, hung free exactly to the length of his penis, which was ample and flawless. It was such a beautiful and rightful part of him that I didn't feel that unreasoning lust I'd once felt at the sight of Jack Foster's overwhelming genitals.
    Ironically, Foster showered with us, as though to offer me a comparison. I heard a low whistle at the sight of him unselfconsciously soaping his genitals, getting them far cleaner than absolutely necessary. There was a half-smile on his face. I am certain he was enjoying the reaction of the boys. I felt almost pity for him that it was necessary for him to make such a display of his one distinction.
    Where did you learn to kick like that? asked Jamie Crawford, who was in his final year at Cornhill, captain of the soccer team. Ah! So even my small talent took precedence over the display of the great man's genitals! But even he seemed to consider it a pertinent question. He listened for my answer.
    What's there to learn? I asked.
    In another couple of years, maybe you could make the team, Crawford said, meaning to compliment me.
    Who needs it? I asked. I was pleased to see a frown on Foster's brow. As for handsome Jamie Crawford, I saw flattering confusion on his face. Clearly it