Page 53 of Hilarina and the Ogre

“It would have been different, and I’m not sure I could have handled a new family thinking I was a baby killer. What if the other kids were afraid of me?”

“I’m surprised the kids at school don’t know about it.”

“They do. You hear about it sometimes, though not as much since I got bigger. I think it scares them a little. The thought that I might be a murderer.”

“If I thought someone was a murderer, I’d stay six billion miles away and use nice and respectful language like sir. But they’ve gone the call-him-a-whale-and-douse-him-in-poison route.”

Trenton snorted. “Maybe it helps them. Like by using stupid names, they can convince themselves I’m harmless.”

“Or, considering most still have a quarter of a brain, they look at you and know there’s no way you’re a killer.”

“Or that,” Trenton conceded. “They’ve never seen me violent. Not that I haven’t been tempted the last couple of months.”

“I was tempted too. At your place. And to that fucker from the bathroom. I thought I’d have to take you to the hospital.” Hilary took a breath, but when he spoke again, his voice cracked anyway. “I was scared.”

As always, those arms tightened the moment they sensed distress. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’ll always apologize if you’re hurt. It’s my job to stop it.”

“And mine to stop yours.”

“You do.” And Trenton’s voice was on the scratchy side as well. “Always.”

“You cried today, didn’t you?”

“Because I could. Because it was you.”

“Fuck, I’ll really marry you.”

Trenton might have laughed. It sounded wet. “Please do.”

“It’s not a joke. I’ll put you on my health insurance and everything.”

“No, I know. I—” the arms tightened some more. “I was relieved. That’s why I cried. Because you knew the truth and were still looking at me like you loved me.”

“What truth? You didn’t kill her, asshole.”

Trenton pushed into his neck. Hilary liked that it was becoming a habit. “I didn’t mean to hide it. I just—every day, it was fun. I liked being with you so much that I—I didn’t want it to stop.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I swear I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Whatever I remember. I don’t want to hide. I want—"

“I want it too. So don’t apologize.” Hilary touched him, tracing lines over that freshly shaved head, memorizing the new terrain. “There’s no rush. We have forever, right? Because we’re friends.” Trenton might have sobbed. Just once. And the sound of it went into Hilary’s chest to reverberate there, sure to stick around forever. He pressed that face a little closer, a little more securely into his neck. “We’re friends.”

Chapter Fourteen

The Potato Gun

No one expected them to go to school the next day—not even Annette, who, for once, was prepared to hear out the benefits of homeschooling. Maybe that’s why they went. Or maybe it was because it no longer mattered. They’d go when they felt like it, and otherwise not at all. And anyway, if it really was going to be the last time, they needed to say goodbye to all their spots. The exams had finished with the fart bomb, so that day was the yearly Christmas charity event that took place at the school. Hilary was curious about it, but more than willing to stay home if he had to. He had no interest in pushing Trenton to do anything when he might still be feeling the aftereffects of the Liquid Ass. But Trenton assured him he was fine, and so they went. The event had many booths. Some were hosted and manned by students, but others were from local businesses looking for end of the year karma and maybe a little free advertising. Mrs. Parson was there with lots of tea and cookies. She didn’t charge anything for them, but there was a glass jar on the table, and everyone left something. They tried to help her a bit, but she shooed them away. “Go and enjoy!” And it wasn’t just a suggestion. “And take lots of pictures. My bridge friends are always demanding pictures.” She even gave them some spending money. Trenton tried to refuse, but after they’d walked away, they found she’d managed to slip it into the pocket of his jacket after all, a little Christmas bonus.

They bought so many treats. Cider donuts, and fudge, and savory pies with different fillings. Nothing was healthy, and it meant eating in public, but Trenton shared it with him. Usually only a bite or so, but he tried everything, and it tasted so much better that way. There were games too. Some of the usual things you see everywhere. Ring toss, corn hole, and balloon darts all had a couple of booths each. There was a kids’ pool full of rubber ducks with little colored stickers on the bottom that translated to different prizes. Hilary scooped up a couple and won the cheapest-looking ring he’d ever seen. And yet, when he grabbed Trenton’s hand and slipped it onto his friend’s little finger (it was too small to fit any of the others) the boy got all misty-eyed and asked if they could go to the bathroom.

Hilary was surprised when Trenton pulled him in with him—used to waiting outside—and right into the stall where he was shoved up against the stall partition and kissed to within an inch of his life. “Damn,” he said, a little lightheaded. “What happens when I give you the real thing?”

Trenton grinned and leaned in for a second round. “Only one way to find out.”