Page 30 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Chapter Nine

Faggily Ever After

The bullying wasn’t bad over the next couple of days. Tame, really, compared to before. There was some “accidental” shoving in the halls and a lot of whispered insults, but nothing noteworthy. It was almost disappointing. “What’s with them?” Hilary demanded. “We’re acting gayer than ever.”

“Maybe not gay enough.”

So Hilary leaned over, there on the school steps, and kissed the boy.

It was nothing to write home about. The kind of peck your great aunt might give you at someone’s birthday party. Hilary laughed at the look on Trenton’s face. “Too much?”

“Do it again. I wasn’t ready.”

That was funny. As if he were someone you had to prepare for. “Was that your first?” he teased.

“The first one I wanted.”

Hilary didn’t dare ask any questions after that. He thought that was the end of it, sure the event would disappear as just another one of their jokes, but that night Trenton asked for another.

“You’re not going to kiss me goodbye?”

The boy seemed genuinely distressed at the thought of going without. It had Hilary rolling his eyes. “You’re the one who told me to get back inside.”

“It would only take you a second.”

So Hilary turned back around, ducked in through the open window, and kissed him.

Albert’s eyes were dancing when he got back in. “I saw that.”

Hilary hoped his stiffness passed for dignity. “Congratulations. You still need reading glasses.”

As usual, Trenton shook him awake the next morning, a thermos smelling of cinnamon already waiting on the dresser—only this time there was a tax to pay first.

“Can’t I brush my teeth first?” Hilary asked.

“No,” Trenton said, and kissed him.

It was weird, those kisses. Mostly because of how easy they were. He didn’t have to be nervous like he’d been with anyone before, or plan them out like he had with Varda. Maybe it was just the way Trenton was, so Hilary couldn’t help but get swept along with it. But not everyone thought so. The second time they kissed at school didn’t go down as well. They were in the cafeteria, Trenton waiting in line for them both since the waiting didn’t bother him as much, while Hilary held the table so no one else would take it. He was only halfway through the first poem of the new book Trenton had lent him when the milk hit his face, a great splashing wave that instantly soaked him and ruined the book he was holding.

He could only stare, dripping, too surprised to say or do anything. By the time Trenton got to him, the perpetrator was gone.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t—” It was even dripping from his eyelashes. The attacker had used two bottles, one in each hand. “I don’t know their name.”

“But you could identify them for me?”

Probably. The guy had been wearing a hoodie, but it wasn’t like his face had been hidden. “What are you going to do?”

Trenton said nothing, just sponged at him with some non-absorbent paper towels.

“Krinkle said no violence. You can’t—”

“I said I would protect you.”

The look on Trenton’s face was frightening. How hard his eyes were. Hilary took hold of the boy’s hands. They were in the bathroom by then, so it was safe—maybe. “Don’t do it.”

That only made Trenton angrier. “So they can do whatever they want, but I can’t—”