Walking home from the library, Marty wished he had seen Jess sooner, so he could have entered the dorm through the back door.  But Jess had glanced over his way, at first dismissively, then as if remembering something, suddenly smiling and gesturing him to come over. 

Too late, Marty thought.  I’m caught.

“Hey, Marty, you know Kim? Benny?”   Jess always did an excellent job of appearing to widen his circle, feigning inclusiveness.  Marty nodded politely, not taking Jess very seriously.  Kim and Benny, whom he vaguely recognized from a party he had attended a few weeks earlier, smiled at him politely.  They were holding hands, as if boyfriend and girlfriend, but weirdly, looked enough alike to be siblings.

“Studying all this time, my brother?” Jess asked.  “Eleven o’clock?  In the library all night, I’ll bet.  No wonder you’re so smart.”

Marty tried to smile.  He didn’t appreciate the presence of the two strangers.  And he didn’t particularly like Jess calling him “my brother.”  Was he kidding?

“Yeah, well, nice to meet you both,” Marty muttered.  “Have to get to bed, Jess –“

“Hey, wait up,” Jess replied, then quickly waved goodbye to Kim and Benny.  The pair appeared disappointed, their polite smiles now clouded by the hurt of their apparent dismissal.  “Lemme walk with you, Marty.”

As the two made their way toward the dorm, Jess asked, “Hey, so did you get my message from this morning?  About the paper, I mean?”

“Sure,” Marty said.  “Sure, I did.”

“So?”

“Listen, Jess,” Marty began.  “I know you’re in a bit of a bind here, but I don’t think it’s worth the risk.  I mean, I wrote that paper just a year ago.”

“I promise you, no one will figure it out, Jess replied, self-assuredly.  “Half the junior class takes Allington’s course.  You don’t think he would recognize it, do you?  I can guarantee he’s never read your paper because he has twenty-five fuckin’ T.A.’s working for him every semester.” 

“And many of them come back –“

“And none of them come back, because it’s a big, boring course and he’s a prick, and the ones who read your paper have all moved on to something else.   So no, I repeat, no risk.”

Just that easy, Jess, Marty thought, just that easy.   He caught himself unexpectedly, admiring Jess’ trim beard.  His stiffened brown facial hair tidily framed the clean warmth of his handsome face, as he carefully enunciated the words he used to make his point.  “I . . . repeat no risk.”  Part of him wanted to do him a favor, to make things right between them.  Make Jess owe him something.  Truthfully, there was probably very little risk that someone reading ten pages about the social history of a small industrial town in the mid-19^th century (a town already mentioned in two of the required texts and in one of the early lectures, and probably already written about by dozens of students) would ever recall a very similar paper with a very similar title from two semesters ago, even if they had read it before.  And even if he were caught, if the same T.A. who had given him that “A” last year just happened to be the one grading Jess’ paper and recognized it, would he bother to pursue it?  Was a T.A. going to go to the trouble of tracking down which of the dozens of papers he had graded last year seem to resemble the one at which he was squinting in a dimly lit cubicle at eleven thirty at night?  So yes, this would be an easy thing to do.  It would be an easy gift to give.

But then he wondered, why should he?  What had Jess ever done for him?  For that matter, he wasn’t even sure what he wanted Jess to do for him.  Did he want him to be his best friend?  Did he want himself to be Jess’ best friend?  Was he after an intimacy in which Jess had never before shown an interest?  And if so, was a mere ten-page paper enough to win that prize?  Wouldn’t that require something more heroic?   Like sitting for a final, or writing a senior thesis from scratch?

“So whatcha’ thinking, Marty?” Jess asked hopefully, the warmth and brightness of his face making Marty feel weak.  “Can you do a buddy a favor?”

So he was his “buddy” now?  Was that better or worse than being his “brother” five minutes ago?  His contact with Jess almost seemed like one of obligation, because they attended the same college, lived in the same dorm and had a few acquaintances in common.  The ease with which Jess could pretend that such closeness existed between them suddenly made Marty feel angry and disrespected.

He shook his head.  “Jess, I’m sorry, but I’d rather not.  I don’t want to take any chances.”

Jess stared at him, silently nodding his head.  “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Look, if there was some other way to help you, maybe –“

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Jess interrupted.  “I don’t want you taking any chances, Marty.  Even imaginary ones, okay?  That’s your right.”  The warmth in his face had evaporated.

Now Marty felt slightly guilty.  He was starting to think he should change his mind.

“And you know, I still have the final exam, right?  That’s most of the grade anyway.  Just have to ace it, and then I’ll get a C, and I pass, and we’re fine.  No risk.”

Jess was talking down to him now.  “Well, I guess that’s one option,” he said.

“Yes, Marty boy, it’s one option.  The only one I have right now, thanks to you, but you’re right.  At least I have an option.”

Jess slowly walked up to him, standing only inches from him, his face darkening and his body tensed.  “It’s good to have options, right?  Like who you hang out with, and who you don’t, and . . .”  Jess wet his lips, pausing.  “And whose life you can choose to make difficult.”

Marty couldn’t speak.  He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Jess this way.  Let me give him the goddam paper, he thought.  If I get caught, I can always say I lent it to him, only to look at, so that he could get some ideas.  No, I never dreamed he’d actually copy it.  Let Jess take the heat because he hated him enough right now to do it.

He opened his eyes, but Jess was already walking away.

Marty had been an average student in high school, though not an excellent one.  His parents had split up just before his eighth-grade graduation, and he and his mother left the spouse he’d grown up and moved to the other side of town with his Aunt Joyce.  It was far enough from his old neighborhood to make him lose the four or five friends he had growing up.  A lonely boy with no athletic talent and mediocre grades has a hard time starting over.  That was what high school had been — four years of starting over.

He had made only one real friend his freshman year at Bailey High, a transplant like himself named Ted.  The boy’s father had relocated from Rhode Island for a new job, and Ted made it clear how much he resented the move.  Marty and Ted would spend afternoons together at the library, pretending to do homework, but mostly hanging out on the back steps of the building, smoking stolen cigarettes and commiserating about how unfair life was and blaming their parents for everything that was wrong. 

But when sophomore year started, Ted changed.  Over the summer, he had quit smoking and discovered how fast he could run.  Suddenly he was hanging out with the jocks, and Marty was friendless again.

Marty kept to himself most of the time and focused on his studies.  Only on rare occasions would he take a break and allow himself to imagine that he actually had friends, a short dream that lasted only as long as it took to start the next chapter of whatever book he had open.   Late afternoon one Friday, during the last half of senior year, Marty was heading home from the library when he saw Ted walking ahead of him.   He watched a blue notebook slip from the pocket of Ted’s backpack.  Marty picked it up off the ground.  He started to run toward Ted to return it to him, but Ted was chatting loudly with a group of his friends and didn’t notice Marty walking beside him.  Marty stopped and carefully hid the notebook inside his jacket.  He would keep it with him, just for a while. 

Three days later, Marty showed up at Ted’s house.  Ted answered the door, looking at him strangely.

“You lose this?” Marty asked, showing him the notebook.

“Oh, yeah,” Ted replied.  “Where’d you find it?”

“Oh, just on the street, near the school,” Marty said. 

“Huh,” Ted said, taking the notebook from Marty’s hand.  He flipped through the white lined pages as if he were checking to make sure no one had ripped out anything.  “Well, thanks.”

“Marty.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Marty,” he said, raising his voice.

“Of course.  I remember.  “We used to hang out together,” Ted said. 

“I think – I mean, I know we’re in the same history class this year.  You’ve never even spoken to me.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’ll look out for you, then.  Listen, I gotta run.  Thanks.”  Ted quickly closed the door.

Marty stood outside the house for a moment.  He reached into his backpack and pulled out the mixtape of the vintage Rolling Stones music he had created.  Marty has been inspired by the “No Satisfaction” logo on Ted’s tight gray t-shirt,  the one he only wore on warm days to show off his jockness and impress cheerleaders.  He thought that perhaps he and Ted might listen to it together.

He was mistaken.

Marty spent the next week fretting about Jess.  He hadn’t seen around since that night they had spoken about the paper.  Marty’s moods swung from relief to depression.  Some of the time, he felt relieved that he had stood up to Jess, had not let him take advantage of him and allowed himself a measure of self-respect.  But for what?  So he could continue to be friendless and alone?   Yesterday, he had seen Kim, that girl Jess had introduced him to that night, and had said hello, perhaps hoping to connect to Jess through someone who was already close to him.  (Or was she?  Did he really know that?)  But Kim had looked at him strangely, appearing not to remember him, and he felt too embarrassed to remind her.  Or did Kim already know that Marty had refused to do Jess the favor of loaning his paper, and was by her lack of recognition, rejecting him as well?

His thoughts wandered as he sat in his cube at the library.  The thing to do, he told himself, was to confront Jess and talk to him about it.  Explain to him that while he wanted to be a friend, he had his standards.  He would not facilitate a violation of academic rules by knowingly loaning him a paper he intended to plagiarize.  Jess might be angry at first, but with a bit more explanation, surely he would be persuaded that Marty was right.  And at the end of the conversation, maybe he would thank him.  Pat him on the shoulder, squeeze his hand.  Their friendship would be cemented. 

And then Marty would surprise him.  He would generously offer to give up his free time to help Jess create his own work, an even better paper than the one he wanted to copy.  He pictured the two of them, tirelessly working together under the pressure of the deadline.  Marty closed his eyes, imagining himself leaning over Jess’ shoulder as he sat in front of his laptop, gently suggesting a different phrasing, a fresher perspective, patiently guiding him through the conclusion, as only a true friend would.  For a brief moment, he could hear Jess’ low voice.  “Yes, that’s it, Marty  … that’s brilliant!”

Marty stopped his daydreaming.  Now he realized that he was making it way too hard.    After all, why put Jess through all of that work when he could just give him the stupid paper?  Instead of spending countless hours trying to get Jess to write it himself, they could share the time to have fun together.  Surely Jess would give him that.  Yes, he may seem a bit distant, a tad dismissive sometimes, but Marty was sure there had to be a sincere and caring person inside that he didn’t show to just anyone.  Jess was apparently under a lot of pressure, and a friend wouldn’t add to it by failing to do him a favor, would he?  Besides, there was likely little time left for Jess to start the paper from scratch if he hadn’t done it yet.  He might even be in danger of failing.  And if he did, Marty felt like he deserved part of the blame.

Quickly Marty picked up his books and raced back to his room.   He turned on his computer and searched through his file directory until he found the paper.  He’d simply copy it on to a disk and slip it under Jess’ door.  Maybe with a short note.  Or better yet, let me make it really easy for him, he thought.  Change the name, print it out and have the whole thing ready to turn in.  Why waste the poor guy’s time, Marty thought.  Yes, just change the name in the corner.  Martin Dunne.  April 27, 2011.  Jesse McCleary.  April 27, 2011.  No, that was wrong.  Make that 2012.

He printed the ten pages, stapled them together and placed them into a manila envelope, writing Jess’ name on the outside.  He didn’t want to think too hard about what he was doing.  He grabbed an extra sheet of white paper from the printer tray and scribbled on it.  “Sorry I was so stubborn.   After all, what are friends for?  Marty.”

Marty took the back stairs to the fourth floor and crept slowly down the empty corridor to Room 451.   Thankfully, there was no one in the hallway to notice him.  Crouching down in front of the door like a dutiful servant, he started to slide the envelope under the door, when he heard a low voice, then a cool guttural laugh from inside the room.  Was that him inside? 

Perhaps it was better to give it to Jess in person.  As nervous as he felt, he knew he wanted to see him.  Then he could explain to Jess why he’d been so goddam unreasonable before, and why he wanted to make it up to him.  He would personally deliver the gift he had created.  Yes, that would be much, much better, he thought, as he withdrew the corner of the envelope from beneath the door.   He stood there motionless for a moment, unable to bring his hand up to the door.  Marty drew his breath, his knuckles made three short raps, and he quickly stepped back.

Jess flung open the door, obviously quite surprised to see him.  Dressed in a black ribbed muscle shirt and faded jeans, he was still unshaven, but his hair had recently been trimmed. 

“Hi, Jess,” Marty said meekly. He couldn’t quite make eye contact with him. 

Jess said nothing.

“I was just … “  He stopped, praying for Jess to say something.  “I wanted to give you the paper,” he finally said.

“No need,” Jess answered coldly. 

“No, really,” Marty continued.  “I was wrong.  I should have just given it to you in the first place.  Here,” he said, showing him the envelope.  “I even printed it for you.  And put your name on it.”

“Put my name on it?” Jess asked incredulously.  He rubbed his beard as if to hide a smirk.   “You put my name on it?’  Marty picked up the sneer in Jess’ otherwise controlled voice.   He hated standing here, not knowing what to say back. 

“Sure,” Marty finally said, almost proudly, like a waiter who presents the main course that has been prepared exactly the way the customer had requested.  “I want to make this as easy as possible for you, Jess.  Take care of every detail.”

“Why?” Jess asked.  “I mean … Why would you do that?”

“If you’d rather I didn’t, I could –“  Marty stammered.  “ . . . erase it.”

Jess shook his head slowly.  “Listen, Marty boy,” he said, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.  “I don’t need your paper, okay?  I got the situation covered.”

Marty couldn’t tell whether that fogged glaze on Jess’ face was from lack of sleep or simple contempt.  He began to sense that awful creeping pain that always worked through his insides when he thought he was making himself look foolish.  Then he heard a voice from inside the room and looked up.  There was Benny, sitting at Jess’ desk, shirtless, bending over the computer screen intently, his fingers rapidly flying over the keyboard, cursing at his occasional typos.

Jess saw Marty staring at Benny, and stepped out into the hallway, grinning.  “Like I said, the situation’s covered now, Marty.  No need.”

Marty nodded.  He felt angry, too, because Jess didn’t seem to need him anymore.  It wasn’t fair that he had lost this chance.   It just wasn’t.   As he listened to the pitiful whining in his head, he began to think of himself as even more pathetic than before.  Slowly he started to back away.

“Unless . . .” Jess added.  “Unless, of course, you’d like to deliver it for me when Benny’s done.”  Jess leaned forward, staring at Marty intently.  “Would you do that for me, Marty?”   Jess touched his shoulder.  “Would you do pretty much anything for me, Marty?”

Marty backed away from the door.  Halfway down the hall, he ran toward the back stairway.  He yanked the fire door behind him so that he wouldn’t hear any more of Jess’ laughter, peeling like church bells on an Easter Sunday morning.

Martin returned to his dorm from an early morning run.  After he showered and dressed, he sat in the dark, holding the unsealed manila envelope.  Jess’ shameless ridicule of him still seeped heavily into his mind, like the wet drizzle outside.  But he was determined not to let it overtake him.  Not this time.  Not like he had with Ted.  Not while he had other plans.

It had taken only a bit of effort to find out that the name of Jess’ TA was Emily Skelton, and to confirm with her in an anonymous phone call when the final paper for her section was due.  He waited until seven-thirty when Baker Hall was scheduled to open.  He found Skelton’s mailbox outside the history department’s office, a tall stack of envelopes pressed tightly inside.  Quickly he sorted through them until he found the one with the familiar handwriting on the outside.  He carefully opened it and removed the paper inside.  He saw Jess’ name on the title page. 

It took him just a few seconds to swap Jess’ paper for the one he had brought with him.  It was an exact copy of the one he’s written last year that had earned him an A.  Only this time, it had Jess’ name on it.  And the date.  April 27, 2011.  How careless of him.  Almost as careless as leaving his name, Martin Dunne, in the footer at the bottom of each page.  He resealed the envelope and pushed it into the stack with the others, and quietly left.

Marty never bothered to read Jess’ paper.  He wasn’t even mildly curious what Buddy had written for him.  He waited until he was back outside in the rain, then stuffed the paper into the trash can outside of Baker Hall, along with all the other saturated waste of life.