it and unless we start acting perfectly natural about it, even kid him about it once in a while, he
never will.”
“You’re so wrong I can’t even—I can’t even hear you, you’re so wrong.”
“Well, I’m going to do it anyway.”
“No. You’re not.”
“The hell I’m not. I don’t have to have your approval, do I?”
“I’m his roommate, and I’m his best friend—”
“And you were there when it happened. I know. And I don’t give a damn. And don’t forget,” he
looked at me sharply, “you’ve got a little personal stake in this. What I mean is it wouldn’t do
you any harm, you know, if everything about Finny’s accident was cleared up and forgotten.”
I felt my face grimacing in the way Finny’s did when he was really irritated. “What do you mean
by that?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged and chuckled in his best manner, “nobody knows.” Then the charm
disappeared and he added, “unless you know,” and his mouth closed in its straight expressionless
line, and that was all that was said.
I had no idea what Brinker might say or do. Before he had always known and done whatever
occurred to him because he was certain that whatever occurred to him was right. In the world of
the Golden Fleece Debating Society and the Underprivileged Local Children subcommittee of
the Good Samaritan Confraternity, this had created no problems. But I was afraid of that simple
executive directness now.
I walked back from Chapel and found Finny in our dormitory, blocking the staircase until the
others who wanted to go up sang A Mighty Fortress Is Our God under his direction. No one who
was tone deaf ever loved music so much. I think his shortcoming increased his appreciation; he
loved it all indiscriminately—Beethoven, the latest love ditty, jazz, a hymn—it was all
profoundly musical to Phineas.
“... Our helper He a-mid the floods,” wafted out across the Common in the tempo of a football
march, “Of mortal ills prevailing!”
“Everything was all right,” said Finny at the end, “phrasing, rhythm, all that. But I’m not sure
about your pitch. Half a tone off, I would estimate offhand.”
We went on to our room. I sat down at the translation of Caesar I was doing for him, since he
had to pass Latin at last this year or fail to graduate. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of it.
“Is anything exciting happening now?”