he knows how they all look at him, the rest of the people who live in his section of the compound. when he comes back from the upper class parties, when he looks like them and smells like them from up top, even if he’s not one of them and never will be, they can’t get away from him fast enough. so when he’s assigned to this supply run, he keeps his distance because they’re all from the bottom rungs of the compound, of course. he stoops down beside the riverbed, checking his traps and sprinkling some bait for when he wades in with his net, and keeps his head down; but one of the girls keeps looking at him, and now she’s joining him, it seems. he watches her in silence for awhile before pointing to his basket on the other side of her. “ hand me that? ” he tries a hesitant, entreating smile. “ gotta put the catfish somewhere, unless your hands are free, ” he jokes.