Chapter 04

nothing human

When I wake up in the late morning, it’s because Sunset is scratching at the jamb of my door and there’s a dagger of sunlight stabbing me in the eyes. I groan and roll over, eliminating one of those annoyances. Sunset won’t be deterred, though.

I voice my displeasure in an inarticulate, sleep-addled sort of way as I force myself from bed, stumbling to my door. I go to open it, but it’s locked. I unlock it gracelessly and pull it open so Sunset can dart into my room, meowing.

I’m still wearing my costume from last night. That’s weird. I close and lock my door once more and strip out of the vest and puffy-sleeved shirt.

I hear Sunset jump onto my desk. She knows she’s not supposed to be there.

“Hey!” I shout, but the sleep in my voice makes it sound more like a croak. “Down!”

I throw my shirt at her and she darts away, sending my hat skidding along with…

A pair of balloon fairy wings.

I didn’t know it was possible to suffer a heartbreak while you’re simultaneously feeling like you could take flight from happiness.

The memories are happy. The reality that they’re just memories hurts. A lot.

I walk over and pick up the methodical tangle of green balloons and hold it by its shoulder straps. I lift it until it’s at about where his shoulder height was.

I don’t have his name. I don’t have anything of his but the wings I bought him.

I take them to my closet and set them carefully on the top shelf, above my hanger rod. I wonder idly how much dust will have gathered on them when he finally comes back. Will they lose air? Do animal balloons lose air? I’ve only ever seen them pop; they’ve never lasted long enough for me to find out. Sunset loves pouncing on balloons, batting at them when they’re in the air…

I look at the clothes in my closet, feeling… empty.

I have to go back, don’t I.

I have to go back to pretending I’m straight, pretending I’m normal…

Only now, there’s another ‘pretend’ I have to do. Now, I have to pretend I’m not missing half of my heart because he’s gone and I don’t know when he will come back.

I rub my eyes, scraping sleep away and chasing off any moisture that may have been collecting there.

I need to talk to Jake, apologize again for making him worry.

I don’t know why he would have any advice, so I might as well just avoid the topic of ear-guy. Maybe I’ll ask him if he and Camilla did anything fun to talk about.

I change into some normal clothes and gather up my pirate costume. The hook is still who knows where. I should see if anyone found it.

I work tonight, too. I should go have some late breakfast.

I recognize that I’m going into a coping mechanism that probably isn’t the most healthy, but I can’t deal right now. I’ll deal later.

For now, I’ll pretend nothing is different.

Even though everything is different.

I leave my room wearing jeans, thick woolen socks, and a hooded black sweatshirt that says ‘backstage is where the real drama happens’ over the simple black v-neck tee that I wear for my stage crew duties. The hoodie was a birthday gift from Jake a few years back. I figure if I’m going to go apologize for worrying him, it might help to be wearing something that very clearly says ‘you mean a lot to me and I haven’t forgotten everything you’ve done for me.’

“Morning, sleepy-head,” Mom says as I walk into the kitchen. She’s drinking something from a mug, but I don’t smell coffee.

“Morn’,” I reply. “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, just some cider. Kettle’s on the stove, should still be warm.”

I get a mug from the cupboard and a few packets of powdered cider from the drawer where we keep all our tea and drink flavoring packets. I empty two into the mug and then pour the steaming water in. Then I remember I need something to stir it with and I return the kettle to the stovetop and get a spoon from the drawer.

“Stay up all night watching Halloween movies again?” Mom asks.

Yup. And that’s all I did. I certainly didn’t make out with the most perfect being I’ve ever seen, much less met. “Yeah,” I say, still sounding about half-asleep.

“Well, you missed pancakes, but you can warm a few up in the microwave. They’re in the fridge until I can freeze them.”

I bring my mug over to the dining table and give the cider a few twirls with the spoon. Then I leave it and get myself a few pancakes. While they’re microwaving, I stir my cider more, letting it cool some before I try to drink any of it.

“You work tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve got a closing shift at the grocery.” I was offered an earlier shift today, but I chose the later one because I was expecting to be up late on Halloween. I just… had been expecting it to be for an entirely different reason than what actually did end up happening.

I cover my mouth with a hand while I stir my drink, watching the curls of steam rising from it. Graceful, like a dancer. He was a great dancer. And a great kisser.

Oh, man. This isn’t going to be easy, is it?

The microwave beeps and I get my pancakes, eating them in relative silence while Mom does her crossword app. Mom’s pretty chill when she’s not in what I call her ‘backstage mode’. When there’s a job to get done, she’s your man. Actors to wrangle? Makeup to apply? Hair to do? Props to distribute? She does it all, or delegates it to others. She gets it done. She’s definitely where I get my backstage work ethic from. Meanwhile, Dad is where I get my aptitude for dealing with mundane, repetitive tasks and problematic clients (like at the grocery store) from. He works at the inn as a bellhop and front desk attendant.

“Thinking of heading down to town center, look for my hook,” I say when I finish a bite of pancake. “Then heading to Jake’s and going to work from there. Sound okay?”

“Sure,” Mom says easily. “Oh! Wait… Dad found your hook last night. I don’t know what he did with it, though. If I can find it, should I put it in your room?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I left the door open so Sunset can go in and out as she will.”

“Are you going to be coming back tonight? Or staying at Jake’s?”

I look into my cider as I spin it. “Um, haven’t decided yet.” I suppose it’ll depend on how angry he is that I disappeared with a stranger.

“Well, let me know,” she says with a slight smile. “Is everything taken care of in your room?”

“Uh, my costume is still on my desk. I can put it in my closet…?”

“That’ll probably be best,” Mom agrees. “I’ll leave your hook on your desk, though, because I doubt Sunset could do too much to it.”

“True,” I chuckle. “And even if she chews it up, the bite marks might just make it look more authentic.”

Mom laughs and finishes her cider. She puts her phone in her pocket as she stands, and takes her mug to the sink. “Rainy’s out at Chrissy’s place for the rest of the night, so let me know as soon as you can if you’ll be out all night or not, so your dad and I can decide if we want to go out on a little date.”

“Gonna hit up Fran’s?” I ask.

“Maybe. Or we might go see his grandparents.” Dad’s grandparents are in the Hallodale Cemetery. As in, they’re dead and buried. Not like they live there in the funeral home or anything.

“We still gonna do a big memorial thing tomorrow?” I ask as she puts her mug in the mostly-empty dishwasher.

“That’s the plan. So if you could be back sometime before noon tomorrow?”

I laugh. “Can do, Mom.” She comes over and hugs me from behind, kissing me on the top of my head.

“You might want to shower,” she says as she heads toward the door. “You smell like the bonfire and you’ve still got eyeliner on.”

Oh, right. That was a thing, huh. “Sure thing, Mom,” I say with a chuckle. I finish up my breakfast (or is it closer to lunch?) and go to take a shower. My eyeliner looks… actually, not that bad. Of course, what do I know about eyeliner? What I don’t see in the mirror, though, is anything that would serve as a reminder of last night. No hickeys, no anything. It’s kind of disappointing, but also, what the heck else would I have expected?

I shower mechanically, barely even thinking about what I’m doing. I might have washed my hair twice, because I couldn’t remember if I had yet or not. I couldn’t keep my focus on anything but him. Where could he be by now? A bunch of places, probably. He’s been gone for… what, eight hours? Yeah, that sounds about right.

When will he come back? Would it be completely stupid or just plain old masochistic to hope for it to be today? Or tomorrow? Sometime before I have to go back to school? Before December, maybe?

Although… even if he only came a day earlier than Halloween, that would be something.

I abruptly remember that it’s a leap year coming up. A year one day longer, just to make ‘Halloween next year’ come that much later. All for me. Awesome.

I check my reflection when I’m done showering, just to make sure I don’t have eyeliner raccoon eyes or anything. It’s all washed off, which is… surprisingly disappointing, actually. I wonder where it was put. Since it was bought for me, I might as well use it, right?

Only I still have trouble doing my own makeup. Maybe Jake would help me. I look in the drawer marked with my name in label-maker bold. Maybe Mom put it in there.

Success! It’s there, between my toothbrush and my collection of cosmetic color contact lenses. I pull it out with my toothbrush and toothpaste and plan to put it in my pocket once I’m dressed again. Brushing my teeth is almost as mechanical as my shower was. I finish up and get dressed, fixing my hair so it doesn’t look terrible, and I pocket the eyeliner.

Maybe I’ll wear eyeliner every day, at least until he shows up again, and then I’ll look the same as I did when he met me.

Besides. It doesn’t look too bad. And I’m sure Jake can make it so it doesn’t look too theatrical, heavy-handed, stand out under the spotlight. You know, something casual, everyday, just to make my eyes look a little more come-hither.

And most people won’t even appreciate it. And I’m sure there will be people who assume I’m gay because I’m wearing eyeliner and it isn’t for a costume. No, I’m gay because I’m a guy who likes kissing guys. If I’m gay instead of some other random sexuality I don’t know enough about, nor do I know enough about my own preferences, to know whether I am or not. Am I bisexual and just haven’t met any ladies who strike my fancy? Who knows.

…Who knows if anyone will strike my fancy anymore, now that I’ve had a taste of perfection? Ear-guy is probably gonna be quite a tough act to follow.

I finish getting ready, fishing my phone and wallet out from my boots and replacing them with the pool noodle sections that help them stand in my closet. Then I leave to go to Jake’s place. The things I need for my shift that I don’t have in my locker at work are in the mostly-empty backpack I have slung over one shoulder. My mind wanders as I walk to Jake’s house, and I’m knocking on his front door almost before I realize I’m there.

“Hey, dude!” Jake says as he opens the door and sees me. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I’ve been texting you all morning.”

“Oh,” I say. “It was in my boot still. I kind of passed out last night, only managed to take my hat and boots off.” Which is true. “Mind if I come in and we can hang out before I have to go to work? Catch up on things from last night?” Project: Olive Branch, initiate.

“Sure, bro,” he says, stepping back from the doorway and beckoning me in. “Gonna be staying for dinner?”

“I’d love to!” I answer.

“Hey, Mom?” Jake calls back into the house. “Gale’s gonna stay for dinner, that okay?”

“Absolutely!” she calls back before she ducks her head out of the kitchen, beaming in my direction. “Hello, Gale, dear.”

“Hey, Mama.” She’s practically a second mother to me, after all.

“We’re having stew tonight!” Mrs. Hoeffer says cheerily as she returns to the kitchen.

And even though I’m still full of pancakes, I’m instantly salivating. Mrs. Hoeffer makes the best stew. I don’t know what her secret is, but it’s even better than my mom’s stew. Not that I’d ever breathe a word of such a sacrilegious belief to anyone.

“Wanna go to my room?” Jake asks. He doesn’t seem to be mad, but he could be hiding it. In most things, he’s completely transparent with me, and I with him. Unless we’re around people. But when it’s us two alone, I can usually read him pretty well. Mostly because he says everything he’s thinking. And I do the same. Or I did. And I want to go back to that. So I agree and follow him back to his bedroom.

I sit in his desk chair and he sits on his bed. “So,” I say. “I, uh… Made out with that guy from last night.”

“Oh,” Jake says. I think I took him by surprise with that. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” I say. My stomach feels like it’s doing the butterfly stroke in my gut.

“Do you… know his name?” Jake asks.

My smile slips from my face a little. “Well, no… We kind of got talking about other stuff and… it never came up.”

“His name,” Jake says flatly, “never came up. Well, what did you talk about that made making out with a stranger seem like a good idea?”

“It just sort of…” I flounder, searching for a way to explain it all. In the light of day, it really does seem irresponsible, at best. “…It just happened. We were watching Nightmare and—”

“Wait, you brought him home?” Jake demands.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t mad before, but it’s starting to look that way.

“No one else was home when we snuck in, and he left on his own before sunrise…”

“Oh my God, Gale, did you make sure he didn’t take anything?”

“Well, I was sort of asleep when he left…”

Jake hides his face behind both hands and I can hear him trying to breathe deeply. “Just tell me nothing was missing.”

“I don’t think anything was missing…” No, my laptop was definitely still under my hat, right where I’d left it. And Mom hadn’t mentioned anything at breakfast… brunch… lunch… whatever meal pancakes and cider was.

“For God’s sake, Gale, you’re the most naive, trusting person I’ve ever met.” Jake rubs at his forehead like he’s getting a headache. “Okay, you don’t know his name. Do you know how old he is?”

I look at my hands, folded in my lap. “That, uh… also never really came up.”

I glance up and Jake looks like he’s about to suffer an aneurysm.

“Look,” I try, “it’s incredibly unlikely he was much younger than me, if at all, and I’m a legal adult anyway, and besides, we only kissed. I didn’t even take my shirt off, for pity’s sake.”

“The shirt coming off isn’t as important as the pants, bro,” Jake says, sounding intensely annoyed.

“The pants stayed on, too! I just…!” I leave his chair and pace around the side of his room farthest from his bed. “I’d say it was nothing, but it wasn’t! It was… really nice! But it wasn’t anything to be all mad about! Because, dang it, as far as I’m aware, Clark Woodford is out of my league, not even playing the same game I am, and for the first time in my life, someone actually wants me, and—”

Jake swears at medium volume, neither softly nor loudly. “You’re really naive, aren’t you.”

I sigh agitatedly. “I mean someone I like back, not various underclassman girls or whatever that get a crush on me without ever really talking to me.”

“So it doesn’t count if someone wants you if you don’t want them back?” Jake asks, looking at me like he wishes he could shoot flaming laser daggers from his eyes. “Is that it, Gale?”

Okay, he’s definitely angry at me. “You know what? For some reason, I thought you might be actually happy for me. Since I can’t be happy for myself, because I have no idea when I’ll see him again. If ever,” I add for dramatic effect. I’m reasonably certain he’ll at least come back for next year’s Halloween celebration, but… I suppose there’s always the possibility of one of us suffering a tragic accident before that happens. “I’m happy for you whenever you get a girlfriend.”

“You’re happy when I go on a date with someone you want to set me up with,” Jake scoffs, standing from his bed.

“Excuse me?” I say indignantly. “They’ve all been girls you’ve been interested in!”

“You don’t know what interested in even means, Gale!” He doesn’t raise his volume much, but the intensity is impossible to miss. When Jake yells, it isn’t by screaming at you. “You seem to think it’s impossible for me to just like a girl as a friend.” He walks toward me, not stomping like you’d expect when someone is angry at you, but casually,

“That’s not at all what I think! You know me!” I’m starting to sound like I’m pleading with him for something. “I’m only ever friends with girls! Why the heck—”

“So because I’m interested in girls and you’re not, I must be just so straight, right?” He’s quickly right up in my face. “You know the world isn’t all black and white, right?”

I stammer, somewhere between indignant and embarrassed. “Of course I know that!” After all, that’s why I haven’t just started calling myself gay. I’m… open-ended. Until I know more, I don’t want to lock myself into one label.

Jake is quiet for a few moments, and I’m not sure if he’s waiting for me to talk more, or if he’s formulating what he’s going to say next. I keep quiet and shrug slightly.

He swears under his breath. “Why the hell do I love you?” he mutters.

I bristle. “We’ve been friends for about as long as I can remember, Jake!” I scramble for something to fix this argument, but I don’t even know that I’m really sure what it’s about. “If you really want me to keep out of your girlfriend business, I can try, but I—”

The words dry up and die in my throat when he grabs me by the shoulders. I’m not a very, uh, physically aggressive person. But I’ve seen Jake get on someone’s case for calling one of his female friends a whore. And by get on their case, I mean he went up to the guy, turned him to face him, and then punched him square in the jaw. Sure, he got a three-day out-of-school suspension for it, but both of our moms were kind of touched when I explained why it happened. He still has a scar on his knuckle from it.

But as I’m remembering that physical altercation from a few years ago and preparing myself to maybe get punched, he instead pulls me in close. But not into a chokehold or a bear hug or anything.

He kisses me.

Hard.

It’s a mash of lips and noses and his teeth sort of collide with mine, but he keeps holding me close, keeping me pressed to him, and eventually the mashing and bumping isn’t as mashy or bumpy. Eventually it’s an actual kiss, just… still kind of aggressive.

And aside from the abrupt, clunky beginning, it’s pretty clear he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t try to make it a tongue-kiss or anything, but pretty soon it’s a soft, almost plying sort of thing.

The only thing that’s missing is… fire.

He pulls away and presses the back of his hand to his mouth, glaring at me in a way that somehow lacks any anger.

“Jake—”

“You don’t even care, do you?” he says, voice cracking.

Now that’s anything but true. I care a whole lot. I care about him, and… I definitely care about what he just did.

Before I can answer, though, he’s continuing. “You never noticed how I felt about you, did you? Or was that why you tried to set me up with so many other people? Try to let me down easy?”

“Jake, I swear, I didn’t…”

“You know what? I don’t even want to know. It doesn’t matter if you ever saw me like that or knew how I felt. Because now you know, and… now you’re all sweet on this stranger you know nothing about.”

Now that hurts. “Jake,” I say sternly. “How would I have known? You never said anything!”

“No, I said, you just didn’t hear.”

“Jake, we’ve been friends for years. I love you, and I know you love me back, but I thought it was all… platonic! Familial! You never said anything to tell me otherwise!”

Jake rolls his eyes and stalks back over to his bed. “Just… whatever. The one person in town you trust with your big secret and you expect…” He looks away, glaring at his pillows. “I didn’t care how many straight guys you got crushes on, because I kind of… knew they’d never go anywhere. You’d still be with me, even if…” He swallows, and I can see the movement of his throat from here. “But now you’re just… prancing off with this mystery fella and leaving me in the dust…”

I want to admonish him for ‘prancing’ but I can’t. Whatever word you want to use, that’s essentially what I did. And if ear-guy hadn’t been a good person, he might’ve kidnapped me, or done something much worse to me. I hadn’t even told Jake I was going anywhere, much less where I was going. Anything could’ve happened to me. And just because it didn’t happen, that doesn’t make the potential any less terrifying.

“I can’t even blame you for not liking me back. I never asked to like you this way… It just sort of… happened.”

I think about all the times Jake would cancel a date to come to my place because I needed help with something, and it feels like my stomach twists into a pretzel.

“So what now?” I ask. I guess a sleepover isn’t going to be happening. Should I even stay for dinner?

Jake looks at his wall clock. “Guess dinner’ll be done soon.”

“Do you…” I don’t know how to ask this, really. “I can make up some excuse to go back home, if you want.”

Honestly, I expect him to reject that idea. “Maybe that’d be best,” he mutters instead. “I’ll… box you up some leftovers?”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to.” I pull out my phone and compose a text to Mom:

coming back home, not staying at jakes, see you after work?

“Mom’ll be sad to hear you’re not staying for dinner,” Jake says dispassionately.

“I’ll tell her something came up at home.” I look at the time display on my phone. Still a few hours before I have to be at work. Well, I guess I’ll be hanging out at the coffee shop next door to the grocery, then.

“Yeah,” Jake says. Like he doesn’t know what else to say. I don’t either, to be fair.

“I’ll…” I shrug, looking to the closed bedroom door. “I’ll see you around.”

“See ya,” Jake says. He sounds dead inside. I can’t help but blame myself for that sound.

I close his door behind me and go to the kitchen. “Hey, Mama. Not gonna be able to stay, something came up and I need to go home.” I don’t like lying to her, but this is for Jake’s sake, not my own. Besides, only the ‘home’ part is a lie.

“Oh, I’m sad to hear that. Give your folks my love for me,” she says.

“I will. Bye, Mama.”

“Be safe, Gale, dear.”

As she returns to what she’s doing, I slip out into the afternoon.

I walk to the coffee shop and order myself a cocoa and a bowl of minestrone soup once I get there. I eat alone at a window table and finish with plenty of time before my shift starts. So I walk to the grocery and go into the back. I wend my way to the locker room and sit on the bench, staring at my shoes. My brain is full of memories from the past twenty-four hours. First ear-guy and all that magic, and now Jake apparently being in love with me…

I don’t know how I’m going to deal with all this.

I get a message on my phone and I read it. It’s from Mom:

Are you going to have dinner with us?

I send a reply:

ill eat alone at home if you wanna go on a date. im a big boy. i can feed myself, grin

A few minutes later, a reply comes in:

OK, see you later tonight or in the AM. hearts & kisses, Mom

I hold my phone in my lap and watch the time display slowly count up to when I need to change and start my shift. The thoughts I’m drowning in make time pass quickly. But once it’s time to work, I can’t let myself be pulled off-track. I leave my phone in my locker, and with it, all my metaphorical distractions.

I throw myself fully into my work, making small talk with the people who come through my line, ignoring my phone on my breaks, being an excellent employee. At least, I think I am. Until, that is, Josie comes by the locker room as I’m putting my store apron into my locker.

“Are you okay, Gale?” she asks. “You’ve been kind of… automatic tonight.”

“Have I gotten any complaints?” I ask nervously.

“No, no. But I notice things, and I’m worried about you. Everything okay at home?”

“Oh, yeah,” I say. I think it’s convincing. “Home’s just fine. Just high school drama stuff. Interpersonal, not theatrical.”

Josie nods. “Fair enough. Then I want to thank you for being so dutiful despite whatever’s going on in your world.”

“It helps me keep my mind off of it,” I tell her. She laughs warmly. “I’m still off for tomorrow, right?” I ask. “Doing a memorial thing with my family.”

“Oh, yes,” she says. “Unless something comes up, we won’t need you until after the week is out. You have a good time, and I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”

I nod. “Will do, Josie. Thanks.” I gather up my things and lock my locker. “Have a good night.”

“And you as well,” she says as I leave.

Walking home gives me plenty of time and not a lot of distractions, so I give in and think about ear-guy and Jake more. I’m getting no closer to a resolution, though. I’m in a hamster wheel of I like ear-guy and Jake likes me. When I get home, Dad’s car is missing and the lights are out, so I assume I’m home alone. I pour myself a bowl of cereal and eat it at the table in the late evening half-light, since I didn’t feel like turning on any lights on my way inside. I finish my cereal, rinse my bowl, and go to my room.

Jake likes me.

Ear-guy might not come back.

I love Jake, just…

I kick off my shoes and lie face-down on my bed. Then I sit back up and pull my hoodie off, my shirt coming with it. I shove my jeans down and toe out of them and my socks. Then I pull back the covers and crawl into bed, content to just give up on today. If today is over, then I’m one more day closer to seeing ear-guy again.

I take a breath and smell something. Snowy air. I reach over and grab a pillow from the side of my bed and bring it to my face.

It smells like him.

As I breathe through the pillow, I find I can remember other things about him more clearly. Like the way his touch lit my skin aflame. Or the way his lips stretched into a crooked smile.

I fall asleep with my face buried in that pillow, my memories turning into dreams.

Then I wake suddenly as my window slides open behind me.

I roll to face the window, my back turned to the wall. Is someone breaking into my room? Why wasn’t the window locked? Or was it locked, and they unlocked it?

“May I enter?” I hear, soft and clear and sounding like s’mores.

I throw myself from my bed, nearly faceplanting when my leg gets tangled in my sheets. I manage to catch myself by grabbing my desk and I shake my foot free.

There he is. Just on the other side of my windowsill. He looks just like he did on Halloween.

Wait… why does he look the same? Why does he have the prosthetic ears on?

He lifts his eyebrows. “May I…?”

“Yes, yes!” I whisper. I reach forward over my desk and he takes my hand.

I doubt I helped him at all. He seemed to come in through my window with more grace than an Olympic gymnast.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him in an excited whisper.

“I said I would return.” He seats himself easily on the edge of my desk, actually a bit closer to my height because of it.

Okay, he did say that. “But I thought… weeks, months…!”

“Would you prefer that?” he asks, looking completely confused.

“No!” I assure him in a whisper. “I just can’t believe you’re really…”

Is he really here? I grab him and pull him into a kiss. He smells the same, only stronger than I remembered. He feels the same. He curls his fingers along the back of my head in the same way.

When I break away, breathing heavily, I look up at him. “I can’t believe you’re really here,” I say, successfully this time.

“I was able to return earlier than even I would have predicted,” he says. His smile lights me up.

“How long…?” I ask.

“Not long, I fear,” he says. “I have to return, but… I want to take you with me.”

I feel like my brain short-circuits for a second. “What?” I ask, hardly audible.

“Come with me.”

Three simple words, and they change my life.

Green eyes sparkle in the dim blueness of my bedroom, the bright moon outside making the lawn outside my window seem so much more inviting. Even the forest beyond it seems to be beckoning. But nothing is as tempting as him. I can hardly look away from those eyes, and when I do, it’s only for a few brief moments before they draw me back in.

“Come,” he repeats, pleading.

Somewhere, deep inside me, something screams that it’s a bad idea. Beyond bad. The part that agreed with Jake screams that I’ll probably be killed, reported on in a week as a young man from a small town in Connecticut who went missing a week ago, and is now presumed dead. Something else insists that this isn’t real. A dream, probably. One I’m about to wake from, and that’s why I know it’s weird.

Then he steps closer and dips his head a little, smiling at me. “Are you afraid…?”

My mouth is dry, practically sealed shut, but I’m not. I’m not afraid, even though every logical part of my brain insists I should be. Sure, I like him, and I want to go with him, but should I?

“Where are we going?” I ask.

He gives me a mysterious sort of half-smile. “Into the forest… and through to my home. My world.”

“Wait… world?”

“I told you I was a fairy,” he says.

Oh, man. Those ears aren’t prosthetics at all, are they? I study the piercings lining them, three dark blue rings through the bottom edge, plus an earlobe ring in each ear.

“You’re not… human?” I ask, hardly able to breathe. Why am I not scared? Not worried? Why do I feel even more drawn to him now that he’s made this frankly unbelievable claim that he’s going to take me to another world? A fairy world or whatever.

“Is that important?” he asks, expression serious. “I will not take you with me against your will… but I want you to go with me. I want to show you… everything, I want to be with you…”

“Oh my God, this is bonkers. Loopsy-doodle. I already told myself, I have a life, a family, a job…” I don’t realize I’m saying it aloud until I see his ears droop slightly. Wait, did I see that right? Yup. His ears are now pointing slightly lower than they had been.

Dang, that’s adorable.

“I understand,” he says. “I will leave you, then. Perhaps, though, I might—”

“No, wait!” I beg, trying to keep my voice down. I don’t know what time it is, or if Mom and Dad are home or not, but the window is open, at least. “No, I… I want to go, I just…”

“If I promise I will keep you safe…?” he offers.

“Well, that’d help, but…” I bite my lip. “I’m more worried about my family. What’ll happen to them if I just… disappear?”

“I can leave a letter,” he says. “Explaining that I can return you in…” he hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps the winter solstice…”

“I can’t just… come back in a few days?” I ask.

“The connection is weakening steadily,” he says. “It was strongest during the leadup to the celebration, but it is much weaker, even now. I fear I will not be able to bridge it, with or without you beside me, until the next crossing-time.”

“So… a few months,” I repeat.

He nods. “You wish to remain,” he guesses.

I shake my head, smiling slightly. His eyebrows lift in surprise and he smiles back and it feels like my heart has stopped. He offers me his hand and I hesitate.

“I should… leave something. But what do I say? Sorry, Mom and Dad, I’m running away for a few months, be back around Christmas?”

He pulls a leaf from a pocket at his belt. It shimmers strangely. “This has… information about my world. If they touch it, it will explain where you are. And that I will keep you safe.”

I want to trust him. “Can I see?”

He offers it to me and I touch a fingertip to it. In a rush, I’m shown an otherworldly place, trees taller than any I’ve ever seen, huge birds with too many wings, flowers big enough I could sit in them… And I see centaurs, pixies, ogres… Or, at least, what I’d call centaurs, pixies, and ogres. Seeing them, real and moving and almost close enough to touch, even though I know it’s just a vision, or a hallucination, maybe, I suddenly doubt everything I’ve been told. I pull my hand back and feel a sense of peace, despite the earthquake my worldview has just suffered. But I also feel a sort of… long-distant familiarity. Like I can almost remember being there. I don’t know if it’s just déjà vu or something else, but it’s compelling, and I can’t fight it. I don’t want to. I want to figure it out.

“I should write a note,” I decide. “To leave with the leaf, explaining it.” I pull a notebook from a drawer in my desk and find a pen.

Mom, Dad, Rain, I write. I’m going away. I will be back in a few months, around Christmas. I’ll be fine, I’m going to be taken care of. I don’t know if I’ll be able to call or remain in contact, but I promise I’ll be safe. I’m sorry, and I love you all. But I have to find my truth. I don’t really know what ‘my truth’ is supposed to mean, but it feels like the right thing to say. I sign the note and look at my phone, writing the time and date down under my signature. Gale Maxwell Hoffman, 1:23 AM, Nov 02 ’19

I bite my lower lip and leave the notebook open on my desk. He sets the leaf over it. I try to keep myself from looking back at him as I pull on my jeans, find a pair of socks, put on a shirt and a sweater, step into my winter boots… I look around my room. All of it seems so… useless now. Ordinary. Computer, phone, nothing that would be of any use in the forest with him.

In another world. One I can already feel is full of magic and things I’ve never imagined, but that still seem so familiar.

“I’m ready,” I say, finally looking at him again. His smile is like starlight. He offers me his hand and helps me crawl out through my window. He follows me and we slide my window shut as quietly as we can.

Then he takes my hand in his, and we run through the cool night air, heading directly for the treeline together. His hair shimmers in the moonlight as we run, his ears flushed pinkish at the tips.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

My family is going to have a collective heart attack. Jake…

…Jake is never going to forgive me.

Chapter 5

the nightingale

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