The Lion Tamer

Chapter VI

in which Remus discovers that Emil Basinsky is not ugly

'Hey, Remy. Want a sandwich?' That's the first thing Emil Basinsky says to me the next morning when we meet on the corridor, while I'm taking my books out of my locker.

'Did you poison it?'

'Why would I poison my babysitter?' He grins.

I knock my head against my locker. Of course. Why did I agree to help him in the first place? 'Gimme that sandwich.'

The sandwich is in a lunchbox; the crust is cut off around its edges and on top of it there's a smiling face drawn with jam. I slowly lift my head.

'Basinsky... How old do you think I am?'

He leans against my locker. 'Based on height?'

I click the lunchbox shut and shove it in my backpack, shaking my head. 'Why do I even hang out with you?'

He's jumping from one foot to the other as if he's warming up for something, and it makes an unusually cheery impression.

'Richard likes active guys, doesn't he?'

I eye him curiously. 'I guess? What's wrong with you today?'

'Nothing.' He claps. It honestly creeps the hell out of me. 'I'm fine. I'm more than fine, it's a beautiful day.'

'Are you drunk?' I step up to him, pressing my palm against his forehead. 'Do you have a fever? Did you do drugs?'

'No?' He laughs as he pushes me away. 'I told you I'm fine. Let's go, learn something!'

I have such a bad feeling about this. Even more so, when he doesn't get lost when I reach my classroom, instead he comes in with me.

'Are you sure you should be here?' I ask. 'This is first-period Maths, I don't think you're in this class.'

'I am,' he spreads his arms. 'What a surprise, right?' He laughs, but there's nothing genuine about it. 'I've just been skipping them, but now I'm so eager to learn, would you believe it?'

I shake my head. I don't like this Emil one bit, he's so jumpy and awkward and weird, and I just don't understand why he's like this so suddenly. He was alright a day before, pained and desperate, but alright, and now he has this—this fake cheer he's exuding from himself.

He's sat down behind me, and I turn back.

'Why are you like this? Honestly.'

'Like what?' He smiles, and I can see his canine teeth glinting in the lights of the classroom, but not even this has his usual edge.

'Weirdly happy. You shouldn't be like this after yesterday.' It almost feels inappropriate, to be so happy after he told me about how his entire life has collapsed.

'Why, can't a guy get a little happiness around here?'

'Not if he's you.'

'C'mon, Remy, don't be so mean...' His entire face strains with a smile, and I shudder, but before I could get the truth out him, Mrs. Brown claps twice to get our attention.

Maths is my least favourite subject which, I guess, is sort of obvious with my dyscalculia. When I was little, I sat over the formulas until I cried from exhaustion, but I still couldn't get them right, and nobody would believe me that it was impossible to learn them, everybody just said I was lazy. Since then I just cheat on tests and copy the homework from the internet, so now I have a lot of time to think about Emil's creepy behaviour. Because really, what's got into him? It's like laughing at a funeral or screaming in a church. I sort of thought he'd be crushed, sullen and silent, but he even made me a sandwich. Which looks like a sandwich for six-year-olds, but still.