discussions of race and privilege
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Lucifer was an angel once.
That’s what Nursey thinks, the first time he sees William Poindexter.
Because the boy is beautiful even though he shouldn’t be. Even though he’s doubtless the kind of person who would punch you in the face if you said the words “you” and “beautiful” to him in the same sentence.
His skin is choked with freckles. It’s potentially more freckle than skin. Not just his face, where his nose and cheekbones are so hyper-pigmented they look tanned, but his collarbones and forearms and knuckles. The close-shaved dark ginger stubble of his hair should make his ears look too big or his mouth too wide but instead it accentuates the long curve of his throat, the cup of velvet skin between the tendons in the back of his neck.
“You’re the new defenseman?” Nursey asks. “William Poindexter?”
And the boy turns around and considers him with what might be contempt but what might just be the way his face looks and says, “Yeah?” like its a challenge.
And Nursey thinks:
This is the story of two people who struggle with prejudice, judgement, and misunderstandings. Two people who, although they don't like each other very much when they meet, grow in mutual respect and compassion, and find that the distance between them is not as uncrossable as they thought.