“THERE’S NOTHING IN YOUR ROOM.”

“There’s a bed, a clock radio, a rocking chair, a bookcase, some books.

That’s not nothing.” “Nothing on the walls.”

“I took down my posters.” “Why?”

“Didn’t like them.”

“You’re like a monk.”

“Yeah. Aristotle the monk.” “Don’t you have hobbies?” “Sure. Staring at the blank walls.” “Maybe you’ll be a priest.”

“You have to believe in God to be a priest.”

“You don’t believe in God? Not even a little?” “Maybe a little. But not a lot.”

“So you’re an agnostic?” “Sure. A Catholic agnostic.” That really made Dante laugh. “I didn’t say it to be funny.” “I know. But it is funny.”

“Do you think it’s bad to doubt?” I asked.

“No,” Dante replied. “I think it’s smart.”

“I don’t feel very smart. Not like you, Dante.”

“You are smart, Ari. Really smart. But being smart isn’t everything. People just end up making fun of you. My dad says it’s okay if people make fun of you. He told me, ‘Dante, you’re an intellectual. That’s who you are. Don’t be ashamed of it.’”

I noticed a hint of sadness in his smile. Maybe everyone was a little sad.

Maybe so.

“Ari, I’m trying not to be ashamed.”

I understood what shame felt like, but Dante seemed to know the reasons behind it. I didn’t.

Dante. I really liked him. I really, really liked him.