by Melissa Grey
“No, Mom!” Bex called. Much quieter she added, “I’ve gotta go. I’m really sorry.”
“Hey, no worries.” Bex was probably imagining it, but she thought he sounded a little sad. “Talk tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Bex whispered into her phone. “Talk tomorrow.”
She hung up. The rest of the night, the sound of Chase Donovan’s soft, secret laugh into the phone echoed in her mind.
The boy with the camera had become the boy with the note.
“Noah,” Javi whispered to himself as he sunned on a large slab of a rock outside Maplethorpe. Eighth period had just let out, and students spilled out of the doors as he watched them from a comfortable distance. The lingering warmth of summer had fled, but the afternoon sun was persistent enough to warm the stone. He understood why cats fell asleep in sunbeams. Even if everything outside that small speck of light was cold, at least his one spot was warm.
They hadn’t talked about the note. The bell had rung, signaling the end of the period. Noah had shoved it back into his bag and vacated the bathroom as fast as his legs could carry him. Javi followed him out, but by then, Noah had been swallowed by the crowd of students heading to their next class.
Javi hadn’t had much luck tracking Noah down after that. They shared no classes, and more often than not, the boy left school the second the eighth-period bell rang. He didn’t linger to hang out with friends—as far as Javi could tell, Noah didn’t have any at Maplethorpe—and he didn’t stick around for extracurriculars. Javi wasn’t sure where Noah went every day in such a rush, but he wanted to learn. There was so much Javi wanted to learn. Like why Noah had received a message signed by a jester.
His obsession was so intense that he hadn’t even felt the wonderful thrill he normally did when his rating crawled upward. The Panthera headsets had proven so popular they had to go into another production run to meet consumer demand. But it was hard to focus on that when his brain was so determined to look elsewhere.
Javi watched groups form and disperse as students left for whatever activities they had planned for the afternoon. Some went straight home. The underachievers. Children of highly rated individuals who didn’t need to boost their own ratings with every activity Maplethorpe had to offer. On the steps, Summer Rawlins held court, flanked by two strapping young men in maroon letter jackets. She looked genuinely regal, as if they were her honor guard. It wasn’t lost on Javi that she sat on the top step, her minions all at least one step below. He bet it wasn’t lost on them either.
His eyes roved over the crowd, until they found the mop of dark brown hair he was looking for.
“Noah,” he said again, the name carried away by the wind. He stretched his legs and stood. Reluctant as he was to relinquish the spot of warmth he’d claimed, he had business to attend to.
Making his way through the crowd of departing students took a little finessing. Javi had a reputation as someone who was both highly rated and highly approachable. He dispensed a few smiles, a wink here or there, and a pat on a shoulder or two. And then he reached Noah.
The other boy was standing on the fringes of the lawn, close to the parking lot, his head bent over his phone. He was frowning. A small line had formed between his brows, and Javi had to tuck his hands into the pockets of his Panthera track jacket to still the urge to reach out and smooth out that little wrinkle.
“Got a hot date?” Javi asked.
Noah jumped, his phone slipping through his grasp. Javi darted out a hand to catch it before it smashed against the pavement.
“What? No. Hi. What?”
Noah was cute when he was flustered. Javi found he rather liked flustering him.
“Hi,” Javi said. “You busy?”
The boy’s eyes—a nice, soft brown—widened. “Why?”
Javi couldn’t help but laugh. “No need to sound so suspicious. I was thinking about going to Lucky’s and I hate drinking alone. You want to come?”
“Drinking?”
“Milkshakes, duh. Come on. My treat.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” Noah asked. His perplexed face was almost as good as his flustered face. “Is this a date?”
Javi offered him a one-shouldered shrug. “Do you want it to be?”
“I don’t know,” Noah replied, a little too honestly.
“Okay, well, how about we start walking over to Lucky’s, and you can figure it out on the way?”
Noah remained standing there, brow furrowed. For a horrible moment, Javi thought the boy would say no, that he would prove himself one of the few people at Maplethorpe immune to Javi’s charm.
“I was supposed to go see my sister,” Noah began. “But she’s … busy.”
That sounded odd, but Javi didn’t press. And he wouldn’t, not until he had a satisfactory answer to his question. “So how about them milkshakes?”
A prolonged silence and then …
“Okay,” Noah said. “But … why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you asking me to go get milkshakes with you?”
Javi tugged on Noah’s sleeve as he steered them toward the gates. Lucky’s wasn’t far, but it was far enough to have a considerable chat before getting there. And along the way, there would be nothing but tree-lined streets to bracket them in, no one but squirrels hoarding nuts for the coming winter to overhear them.
“Because you seem cool,” Javi said. He was keenly aware of the whispers following them off campus. They must have made an odd couple to see. Lonely loner Noah and garrulous gamer Javi, walking off, almost arm in arm.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever referred to me as cool before,” Noah said, his steps falling into sync with Javi’s.
“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”
Noah chuckled a little, some of the heaviness evaporating from him as Javi tugged him along, toward Lucky’s and milkshakes too thick to suck through a straw and, most importantly, answers.
* * *
The Lucky Penny was as packed as it was whenever school let out. A handful of townies sat at the long counter, but most inhabitants of Jackson Hills knew to give the place a wide berth between the hours of three and five. Maplethorpe students, once let off their leashes, were boisterous at best and extremely obnoxious at worst. Finding a table in the late afternoon required either murder or a bribe.
Fortune, though, had decided to smile on them that day. A small booth in the corner—barely large enough for two fully grown young men—was unoccupied. Javi tossed a smile at the waitress, who followed them to the table with two glossy menus. They both ordered the milkshake of the day—Orange Creamsicle—and Javi added a side of fries for good measure. Noah still hadn’t come to a decision on the dateness of their outing, but if it was a date, Javi didn’t want Noah to think he was too cheap to buy him solid food.
“So,” Javi began. “I have questions.”
Noah’s eyebrows inched upward. “Is this some kind of interrogation? I thought it was a date.”
Javi bit his lip to prevent himself from shouting in triumph.
Good thing he got the fries.
“The photograph,” Javi said, leaning over the table. “The note. The jester. What did it say?”
“Oh. That.” Noah fished around in his backpack until he found the photograph. It was crumpled from having been unceremoniously stuffed into his bag, and he had to smooth it out on the table to flatten it.
“It’s a picture I took freshman year, on the first day of school,” Noah said. “I don’t know how somebody could have gotten their hands on it, though.”
“ ‘On the day of the prophet false,’ ” Javi read, “ ‘one mustn’t dance a forbidden waltz. A copper found and a fortune told, all beside a box of gold.’ ”
Noah looked down at the words, as if he could coax a greater, clearer meaning from them if he stared hard enough. It didn’t seem to work. “I have no clue what this is about.”
“You don’t know why someone would have sent it to you?” Javi asked.
“One of the reasons, yeah.” Javi slipped his phone from his pocket and pulled up the camera roll. “Because someone sent me this online.”
He held out the phone. Noah’s eyes widened as he accepted it. The picture wasn’t great. Faint, fuzzy lines cut across the image, the type of distortion that occurred when you took a picture of a picture on another glowing screen. But the image of the jester was clear enough. The text was a little hard to read, but it was legible enough.
“Wait … what?” Noah’s eyes darted from the screen to Javi and back again. “Do you know who sent this to you?”
Javi shook his head. “Not the faintest.”
“That’s weird,” said Noah.
“Incredibly so,” Javi agreed. “I was hoping maybe you’d have some answers, but I guess the search continues.”
The waitress returned, her tray laden with two large milkshakes and an obscenely generous serving of fries. They waited in silence as she laid them on the table. When she was gone, Noah picked up a fry, but didn’t eat it.
“You said there were other reasons,” Noah began. “Why you asked me here.”
Javi also took a fry, and he wasted no time popping it into his mouth. He chewed, mulling over how he wanted to play this. It wasn’t a game, but there was strategy involved. One had to know when to advance and when to hold the line. He hadn’t even been certain that Noah liked guys, but judging from the other boy’s casual acceptance of the maybe-date, that didn’t seem to be a problem. Still, Noah was a skittish creature. Javi didn’t want to scare him off.
“I just wanted to hang out,” Javi said.
“With me?” Noah asked.
“Yes, with you,” Javi replied with a small laugh. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Noah shrugged. “Kind of.” He finally raised the fry to his lips and nibbled on the end. “But I’m not complaining.”
A smile stretched its way across Javi’s lips. Not a planned one. Not the trademark grin that adorned posters selling Panthera gaming peripherals, but a genuine one. The rarest kind.
“I’ve been trying to track you down for ages, but you were slippery. Like an eel. Hard to catch.” Javi dipped a fry into his milkshake. His siblings claimed dipping fries in anything other than ketchup was a disgusting habit, but Javi thought it made a good food great. “It was starting to feel like you were avoiding me.”
“I wasn’t,” Noah said. And then, immediately, “Okay, I kind of was.”
The milkshake-dipped fry was far too sweet on Javi’s tongue. “Oh?”
“It wasn’t personal,” Noah said in a rush. “It was just me being … forget it. It’s dumb.”
Curiosity was one of Javi’s greatest sins. Sometimes he couldn’t help but poke at things, the more stubborn his target the better. “If it wasn’t about me, then what was it?”
“It’s stupid,” Noah insisted.
“Great. I love stupid.”
That got a little smile out of Noah, which, in turn, got a smile out of Javi.
“I was embarrassed,” Noah mumbled. “I hated that you saw me crying. I don’t like crying in front of people.”
“No shame in tears,” Javi said. It was what he told his younger siblings whenever they cried, because it was what his parents had told him when he’d cried. “Can I ask what happened?”
The breath left Noah in a sad, shallow sigh.
“My sister’s sick.”
“Oh,” Javi said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He wasn’t good at knowing what to say in situations like this. He felt like he was parroting the words of an older, wiser adult more accustomed to these sorts of conversations.
“Like, really sick,” Noah went on. “She’s been in the hospital for a while now. She, um … she needs a donor.”
“For what?” Javi asked.
“Bone marrow,” Noah replied.
“Oh.”
“Yup.”
Javi didn’t know much about terminal illnesses, but he knew enough. He knew that finding donors for kids was hard, and finding bone marrow for anyone was really hard. People stayed on the registry for years, some until they died and it was too late.
“I went to get tested to see if I was a match.” Noah paused. He swirled the straw around in his milkshake, once, twice. But his hand fell away before taking a sip.
Javi hazarded a guess. “And you weren’t?”
A thin, bitter laugh escaped from Noah. “Nope. Not only was I not a match, I wasn’t even …”
He let the sentence linger without finishing it.
“You weren’t even what?” Javi asked.
“Related. We’re not even related.”
Javi blinked. “What?”
“I’m adopted,” Noah said. “We don’t even have the same blood type.”
“Jeez,” Javi said. That didn’t seem like the ideal way for someone to find out.
“So, yeah. Not only am I not a donor, I’m not even her brother.”
Javi shook his head. “Hey, being adopted doesn’t mean you’re not her brother.”
“I know.” Noah took a sip of his milkshake and then cringed. “That is a crap ton of sugar.”
“Yeah, that’s the beauty of it,” Javi said. “Listen, have you talked to your parents about this?”
Noah shook his head. “No. We don’t really talk about stuff. Not deep stuff like that anyway. When we do, it’s usually about Cece. I don’t want to burden them any more.”
“But they’re your parents. You wouldn’t be burdening them. And if you are, well, then bearing your burdens is sort of their duty. It’s in the job description. Trust me, I checked.”
The corners of Noah’s lips twitched. It didn’t evolve into a fully developed smile, but it was a good start.
“I just …” Noah leaned back against the booth seat. The red vinyl creaked as he moved against it. “I don’t know what to say. Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. Were you ever planning on telling me I was adopted? Or were you just hoping I’d never find out?”
“I think it’s probably worth bringing up.”
“How do you talk to your parents about stuff like this?”
“Well, two things. One, I wasn’t adopted,” Javi said. “My parents had me the old-fashioned way. By accident.” Noah smiled at that. “And two, both of my parents are dead.”
And just like that, the smile was wiped off Noah’s face, like someone had pulled an eraser across it. “Crap. I’m sorry. Crap.”
Javi held up a hand to still the apologies he could sense were ready to pour out of Noah’s mouth on a wave of regret. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, really. Look … I don’t know what your relationship with your parents is like, but maybe it’s worth trying to talk to them about all this.”
“Maybe …” Noah stared into the swirling froth of his milkshake as if it had all the answers. If only.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to be able to talk to my mom and dad just one more time.” Javi felt himself going too deep, getting too real, but there was something about Noah that made him want to dive in. There was an incredible sense of catharsis that came from sharing these things. “Sometimes, I worry that I’ll forget what their voices sound like. That the voices I think I remember are actually just my imagination. Something my brain made up to fill in the blanks.”
It was the first time Javi had ever said that to another human being. He’d never dared talk like this with his siblings. As the eldest, it was his duty to bear the burden of remembrance. And his grandmother … losing her son and daughter-in-law had affected her in ways Javi knew he couldn’t ever fully fathom.
Noah’s hand relinquished the straw. His palm hovered over the table, as if he was reaching out to touch Javi’s. But he dropped it before making contact. “Well, that makes my dumb issues sound small and insignificant.”
“What? No, that’s n
ot what I …” Javi ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to say my problems were bigger than yours. I just meant …” He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. Your parents are human. Sometimes humans mess up. But they’re still your parents, you know? No matter what.”
“I know that,” Noah said. His eyes drifted away from Javi, wandering to the rest of the diner. Javi followed his gaze.
It felt as though their table had been carved out of the room. Like they’d made a pocket dimension for themselves amid the afternoon chaos. In a booth by the front windows, a table full of what looked like Mathletes hunched over books and calculators. A clutch of freshman girls broke into a riot of giggles when a couple of sophomore boys walked past their table and smiled at one of them.
“I don’t think I’m angry at them,” said Noah. “Not really.”
Javi turned back to him. Noah’s gaze was still off to the side, but Javi had the feeling that Noah wasn’t really looking at the other denizens of the diner. “You aren’t angry that they didn’t tell you?”
“Yeah, but …” Noah scrubbed a hand over his face. In that moment, he looked older than his years. “I’m not angry at them. I’m just … angry. I’m angry because my little sister is sick and I can’t help her. I’m her brother. It’s supposed to be my job to protect her and I can’t protect her from this. I’m angry and I don’t know who to be angry at. It’s easier to be angry about this.”
“I get that,” Javi said. “And can I just say, this got way more cathartic than I planned?”
Noah’s lips trembled, and then he laughed. A nice, full-bodied sound. It softened the lines of his face and made the golden flecks in his eyes sparkle.
The last bit may have been inventions of Javi’s imagination, but that was neither here nor there.
“You mean you don’t spill your guts to everyone you take out for fries and a shake?” Noah asked. “And get them to do the same?”
“Not really, no. Might add it to the repertoire, though, seeing as how it’s worked so well.”
Javi smiled at Noah over the rim of his glass as he lifted the straw to his lips.
“Thanks,” Noah said. “I don’t think I realized how much I needed to talk about this.”