Page 44 of Talk to Me

“They’ll tell you that you catch more flies with honey. You ever hear that before?”

Theo didn’t verbally respond, but by Arthur’s body language in the video, you could tell Theo had nodded to him.

“You’ll definitely catch flies. And those flies will tell other flies where they can get a free meal. If you want that, go right on ahead. Personally, I don’t want flies. Get the out of here if you can’t treat me right. You aren’t getting any honey from me. You can have some when you learn how to act right!”

Arthur took that moment to sit back and let that sink in with Theo and me. Finally, he said one final thing.

“Throw the toaster. Flies aren’t worth having around. And keep the honey for yourself.”

The video ended, leaving me with the thumbnail. I wanted to watch it again, but I’d already watched it seven times since Theo had edited and posted it the night before. He had added on a clip at the beginning of himself speaking to the camera in his dorm room, explaining who Arthur was and how he was a writer he’d learned about at Blaze University that he admired. Then the video he’d taken of Arthur telling his story began.

Theo hadn’t mentioned Ben, the new controversy, or anything to do with the bullying he was experiencing. He let the video speak for itself, and carried on with everything as though it was a typical day for him. As we had discussed. Having watched the video so many times since getting up Friday morning, I felt he’d made the best choice.

I removed my earbuds and stowed them in their case before slipping it into my backpack. Checking the time on my phone, I hopped up from the bench and slung my bag over my shoulder as I slid my phone into my pocket. Rushing across the quad, I got to Midway Roasters just as the line was beginning to form. Fortunately, my trip from the back of the line to receiving the two mochas was less than fifteen minutes, and I was dashing off to American Lit with ten minutes to spare.

When I got to class, I was surprised to see Theo already seated at our table, pulling his supplies out of his backpack. A few students were already filing into class, so I weaved through them down the aisle and plopped down in the seat next to him. He looked up, a smile blooming brilliantly on his face when I held the mocha out to him.

“No way!” he said with a laugh. “I stopped by the dining hall and got us cold brews.”

He reached into his bag and held a glass bottle of the nearly black liquid out to me. I laughed as I took it from him.

“I thought the coffee shop would be too busy to stop for a real one,” he groaned. “Thank you for being irresponsible for the both of us.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, knocking my to-go cup against his. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he said, smiling wider.

The two of us set about getting ready for the impending lecture, getting our materials out of our bags, sliding the bags out of the way under the table, and sipping our coffees. Once we were settled, I leaned over slightly and spoke out of the corner of my mouth to Theo.

“I watched the video about thirty-seven times this morning,” I said.

He turned his head to grin at me.

“Arthur’s story is even better than I remember him telling it,” I added.

“Thirty-seven times?” Theo chuckled.

“Okay,” I said. “Probably seven. But it’s a really good video.”

“It’s probably my favorite video I’ve ever posted,” Theo said. “And I had almost nothing to do with it. Arthur makes for great videos.”

“Don’t tell him that,” I said. “He’ll be preened and ready every time you visit him.”

Theo shared a chuckle with me as we sipped our coffees. Our professor finally arrived as the last student was sliding into an empty seat and quickly began her lecture. As class went by, I realized she was not opening the floor to discussions. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was a bit tentative after the previous week’s disaster. However, she kept things moving, discussing the second act of Waiting for Godot. Seeing that we were required to write a paper over our thoughts on the play, a discussion wasn’t absolutely necessary. She’d get all of our thoughts eventually.

But it made class feel odd. The fact that we were all missing out on an aspect of the classroom experience because of one dumbass’s behavior was obvious, too.

The other obvious thing in class was that people were still brave enough to turn and look at Theo and whisper. However, something was different. No one was sneering or turning up their noses or giggling. When someone turned to glance at Theo, if he turned his head to look at them, they’d actually give him something akin to a smile. They wouldn’t hold his gaze for long, but they didn’t immediately look away, whisper to a neighbor, then giggle quietly.

Halfway through class, after the fifth incident of someone turning to smile at Theo, he bent his leg to tap his knee against mine. I looked over to see him giving me an amused, quizzical look. I shrugged and turned my attention back to our professor. For the rest of class, we would look at each other and shrug each time another student would look at and smile at Theo. It made listening and taking notes harder, but less difficult than when people had been rude during classes.

When class ended and students were pushing their way out of class, rushing to get to their next classes on time, Theo and I hung back. Since American Lit was our only Friday class, we weren’t going to fight against the tsunami of bodies for no reason. As I was packing up, Theo had pulled out his phone and was flipping through it. When I looked over at him, he was smiling down at his phone.

“What’s got you so happy?” I asked.

Theo smiled at his phone a moment longer, nearly to the point that I was going to repeat my question. Finally, he spoke.

“Arthur’s video has six hundred and twenty-seven thousand views. And, like, seventy thousand likes,” Theo said.