Page 170 of Midnight Curfew

He shrugs, turning back around and returning to the front of the class. “I have to curate my lessons to interest my audience.” He gestures to her with his hand. “Look how interested you are.”

Giggles go off.

“So come on,” he tells them. “How many of you?”

Slow, Atlas Wade raises his hand, followed by the Patton kid. Whitney, I think?

A couple more hands rise in the air, and I lock eyes with Dallas, seeing the amusement there. Does he think I’m going to raise my hand, too?

“If they liked you but weren’t available,” he continues, pacing. “Their boyfriend or girlfriend had a death in the family and they didn’t feel right adding more stress or something. Would you steal away with them for a few minutes in a bathroom stall or out in your car in the parking lot?”

The kids shift in their seats, stealing glances at one another, because no one wants to admit the dark side of our character. We all have one.

“Maybe,” Dallas answers for them, letting them off the hook. “Maybe not.” He meets my gaze, drifting down the aisle toward me. “Maybe we don’t know ourselves as well as we think until something happens that makes us reexamine how we see ourselves.”

Is he insinuating my behavior is a reaction to his? Took him long enough to figure it out. I wouldn’t just impose a curfew for this long without that motivation. It would seriously hurt businesses and people’s livelihoods. He, on the other hand, famously dumps his fucks once he’s done with him.

My shittiness is circumstantial. His is a personality trait.

“So you’re online,” he tells his class, “you see what happens in the world, the awful things people do. Why are they doing it when it’s wrong?”

“Poverty,” Mason Kenmont yells.

Ginny shrugs. “Wealth?”

“Two very different groups of people,” Dallas points out.

Just like him and me.

“One knows they could get caught,” Whitney says. “The other knows nothing will happen if they do.”

“Like Sanoa Bay and St. Carmen,” Sophia chimes in.

I jerk my head, seeing her glance from Dallas to me.

“Right?” she asks.

I keep silent, not appreciating the insinuation that we’re evil and any crimes happening in Sanoa Bay are simply out of necessity.

But she’d know more than anyone, so I keep my mouth shut.

“True.” Dallas nods. “We aren’t angels, either, but when it’s for the common good, it makes our behavior righteous.”

He grins, his class already laughing.

“So you share resources?” Martinez asks.

He replies, “Our wealth is community property, yes.”

Wealth? Does he mean they’re rich in love? Poetry isn’t Dallas’s style.

“So for some,” he calls out, “virtue is a luxury they can’t afford. But you can.” He looks around at his class. “The question for you is, do you submit to virtue because it’s demanded of you…or would you choose virtue even if it weren’t an expectation, and why?” He nods to Sophia, and she hops off the sill, passing out sheets of paper. “Are there exceptions to consider? Any special circumstances that would make a difference?”

He pulls up the screen in front of his whiteboard, the question he just asked written behind it.

Wealth…

“No names on your papers,” he drones on. “You have the rest of class.”