Page 40 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Hilary was far more flustered than should have been biologically possible. “Stop it.”

He yanked his foot back, but it was too late. His heart was thundering.

Trenton, naturally, was still composed. He seemed to be growing calmer the more flustered he made his friend. "No good?"

Hilary’s eyes blurred again. He couldn’t do this. “It’s dirty.”

“You just showered.”

As if they could use logic here. As if they could pretend that hygiene was all that this was. Except Trenton wasn’t pretending. Those eyes were so sharp that Hilary felt cracked open beneath them. “Don’t.”

“Is it my mouth that’s dirty? Should I wash it? We have soap here.”

Hilary tried to get up. Trenton yanked him back down. “Tell me.”

“I can’t!”

It burst out of him: a poison-tipped arrow. Trenton caught him by the chin. “Then I’ll ask. Hilary, are you in love with me?”

It was strange to think that out of all the places in the world, the wonders and the horrors, an endless possibility of people and locations, it was in this little town, this dingy old apartment, that the world’s only mind reader was sitting there with him. “How long have you known?”

“Since you first kissed me, though I suspected it before.”

It wasn’t really a surprise that Trenton had known. Well, maybe a little. Mostly because the realization was still fresh to himself. Then again, it had been in Hilary’s best interest not to recognize it. His mind was racing with the implications, the fear of what might happen, all the worst possibilities flooding his mind. And then Trenton made it worse.

“There was also—"

“Also?” Hilary’s irritation was so strong he even managed to forget his shame for a moment. “What do you mean, also? There’s more?”

Trenton went pink at the high points of his cheeks and ducked his head. It was a very bad sign. “I wasn’t looking for it. I swear, I only meant to check the exam chapters. I figured you’d have written them down, so I…”

Hilary knew before Trenton pulled it out, the little notebook not much bigger than his hand. Hilary had been using it as a kind of homework pad. A place, as Trenton had mentioned, to write down assignments and tasks so he wouldn’t forget them. But then he’d started using it during reading. When it was just the two of them together, there was no need to write anything down, of course. He could just tap on Trenton’s hand to get his attention and read the bit aloud to him. But during class he couldn’t do that, so he’d write the lines down to share later. But sometimes, maybe more often than he realized, he scribbled down other things. Doodles and stupid observations. It was just boredom, his brain spinning idly in the endless class hours. It wasn’t poetry. As if someone like him could figure out poetry. But Trenton had been pushing so many of those books at him. Really, it was all the boy’s fault. Messing with his brain, turning it into jelly pudding.

He took the notebook and flipped it open. What he found was worse than he remembered. The stupid words seemed to leap out of the pages at him, the lines so cheesy he was going to pluck his own eyes out. Things like:

His hands could cover the world, but I pretend they're too small to fit any but mine.

He didn’t actually know the mechanics of poetry well enough to figure out line breaks, so he’d just put the words together like some barely literate baboon.

I say ogre like a prayer because they live longer than men (and one life isn't enough)

He could play it all off as a joke. That was always an option. Except he’d tried to do that back in the bedroom, and it hadn’t worked. Trenton had known. Trenton had seen these stupid words. Why the fuck had he written them down? Had he been trying to get caught?

On one of the last pages was perhaps the worst one, deceptively short.

I never loved my name until he said it.

Hilary couldn’t look up. He couldn’t do anything but stare down at it, the words themselves an accusation. “Shit.”

Trenton said nothing. Waiting. Always so greedy for his humiliation. Hilary sighed. It was better to just get it over with.

“Earlier, when you asked—when I told you to guess. I think of you. It’s always you.”

Trenton wouldn’t show him disgust. However much he claimed rudeness, the boy was a gentleman about things like that. It was like with the kisses. Trenton had gone along with those too. Letting him play out the fantasy. He forced his eyes up. “Well?”

Trenton smiled.

Not the indulgent smile the boy used when he was putting up with worse-than-usual brattiness. Or that taken aback one for when he surprised him with a rare and clever thing. This smile—well, Hilary wasn’t sure what to call it. The smile was almost smug. And it spread, mischievous and idiotic. And it was smug. Obnoxiously so. Smug enough to have Hilary grabbing for that mess of hair before he could think of what he was going to do with it. “What’s with that look? You’re supposed to be repulsed.”