Elliot Lyrie
age 15
Ochre Primary School
“Come on,”she whispers. She’s giggling and running so fast I can barely keep up. I don’t mind. I’d cross treacherous landscapes, mostly blind, any day of the week if it meant I was getting time alone with Secora Reed.
Time alone, because Mama thinks she’s a bad influence.
Time alone, because Harrison thinks she wants to kill me.
Time alone, because Secora thinks people would hate her if they knew.
Time alone, because I’m terrified she’s right.
“You’re so slow,” she complains, but I can hear the smile on her face. “Our tree misses us!”
“You think?” I ask. I’m grinning too. I feel drunk, even though I haven’t had a drop of alcohol. It’s simply Secora. Intoxicating. Beautiful. Wild. “Because I think our tree might be glad for the break?—”
I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence. We’ve reached our tree, the same one I once warned her was haunted. The same one we sat beneath for countless lunch breaks and more than one afternoon date. Even after moving to our next school, we still come back. There’s something special about this place, something distinctlyours.
Secora grabs my shoulders, tugging me down to her height. Every year, we grow farther apart in height, and closer together in every other way. I bend to meet her, capturing her mouth with my own. She tastes like the dessert we just shared and fresh air and crisp winter mornings.
I break away from her mouth to kiss her neck. I’ve got her dress bunched in my fists, tugging her skirt higher and higher, until she’s nearly exposed to me. We haven’t crossed that line, not yet, but the moment she gives any indication…
“We should do this more often,” she says. She’s gasping, head tilted against the tree. “Like, maybe all the time.”
I hum in agreement, too focused to pull myself away. I’m still kissing her neck, still gripping her waist and teasing her skirt, when I realize she’s gone still. She shudders before making a terrible choking noise.
When I pull back, she’s crying.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. I drop her skirt, cupping her face with both hands. “Fuck, Secora. I’m sorry. Was I?—”
“No, sorry, it’s nothing,” she says. Tears streak down her cheeks, and she hiccups, scrunching her eyes shut. “Keep going.”
“Tell me what’s wrong,” I beg. I wipe her tears, but they’re falling too fast for me to keep up. “Hey, look at me. What’s?—”
“You’re going to do this with someone else someday,” she says. She’s crying so hard she can barely breathe. “And that’s good. It’s fine. It just—it breaks…it breaks my…”
“Secora, look at me,” I say. I wipe her tears again, tightening my hold over her face. I tilt her chin, forcing her to do as I say. “I’m not doing this with anyone else. Okay? Just you.”
“I’m a Dark One,” she says. She’s still crying, and my heart is breaking, and I don’t know how to fix any of it. “Dark Ones don’t…they can’t?—”
“Shhh,” I say. Because I know as well as she does the laws for Dark Ones.
They can’t marry.
They can’t reproduce.
They can’t do so many things.
“We’re going to get your ruling reversed,” I say. It’s something we’ve talked about dozens of times. She was a kid when those people died, and there’s no proof it was actually her fault. “We’ll get it reversed. And once we do?—”
“Your mama would never allow it,” she says. She’s still crying, but she swallows the sobs. Soon, there are only silent tears. “You know that, Elliot. She’d never?—”
“I pick you,” I say. My stomach clenches as I speak the words. Not because I’m lying, but because I’m telling the truth. “She’ll either learn to accept it or she’ll lose me. Because I amnotlosing you, Secora. Understand? I love you?—”
I’m yankedout of the memory so abruptly my vision spins. Or maybe that’s a side effect of what I just saw. Of the horrible, terrible memory I’m certain can’t be real. I would have kept watching. It wasn’t me who pulled us out, but Cora.
