He mumbled something that sounded like he disagreed with me.
“If you hear anything—”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a narc.”
I held up my hands. “Nah, I know that. I wasn’t asking you to be. I was going to say if you hear anything about one of the kids needing something but they’re too scared to ask, can you just let them know I’m here? I’m not asking you to tell me what they told you, but just to give them a nudge in my direction. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“What if someone wants crystal meth?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I don’t know about that. I was thinking more along the lines of condoms or to set up appointments to test for STIs or help with homework, something like that.”
“It’s summer,” he reminded me.
“Not everyone is a genius like you,” I teased him. “Some are in summer school. That shit is hard.”
His eyebrows rose. “You were in summer school?”
“Between freshman and sophomore year. Things were a little… crazier for me back then. Thankfully it was enough of a wakeup call that I never had to do it again.”
“I’m sure it was really hard for you a decade ago
,” he said, lips twitching.
“Thanks for that,” I said dryly. “Seeing as how I’m only six years older than you, I’ll let that slide.”
He popped his knuckles. It sounded like it hurt. “Did you get a lot of crap?”
“For what?”
“You know.”
“Being queer?”
He nodded. Then, “Or being brown.”
I sat back in the chair, settling my hands on my stomach. I chose my words carefully. “Some. Nothing I couldn’t handle. People are… I think most people are good, or at least they try to be. But there’s always going to be the assholes. I was just lucky enough that my assholes’ barks were worse than their bites.”
“What did you do?”
“I kicked this one dude in the nuts when he tried—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “Violence is never the answer.”
He snorted but seemed to relax a little. He began to wander around the office, looking at the knickknacks on Marina’s desk, tracing a finger along the photographs. “People can be dicks.”
“They can be,” I said slowly. “Is there anyone like that here? I’m not asking you to narc on them, but I need to know if there’s a problem so I can deal with it.”
He shook his head. “Nah, they’re good here. Mostly. Couple of jerks, but I can handle them.” He glanced at me slyly. “Without violence.”
“Good. But if that ever changes, you tell me. I’d rather be safe than sorry. And anything you tell me stays between us.”
“Like a lawyer?”
I winced. “More like a therapist, though I’m not actually one. If you think you need one, we have the psychologist on staff, or we can find someone else.”
He scowled at that. “I’m not crazy.”
“Never said you were. Therapy isn’t necessarily for crazy, though it’s ableist to think that way. I was in therapy for a long while. A friend of mine still is. It helps more than you think.”
“I don’t need a therapist.”