Page 21 of The Wicker King

Gordie looked annoyed. “There have been posters up about it all week. We’re supposed to vote king and queen next Friday. Who are you going with?”

August hadn’t even noticed. There were just way too many more important things to deal with than worrying about a dance. Jack’s mysterious visions, for one. His mom not finding out he was habitually breaking into a building just for shits and giggles was another. And he was pretty sure he was getting a D in history.

“I don’t think I’m go—” August started.

“Go with me,” she said, her cheeks flushed like a summer peach. “Go with me.”

MARIO KART

“So, I’m going to Homecoming with Gordie. She ambushed me on my way here.” He tossed his backpack onto the floor of Roger’s room. “Who are you going with? Peter?” August joked.

Roger didn’t smile. He just kind of shrugged and turned on his PlayStation.

“Really?” August said incredulously.

“Who else?” Roger said, like it wasn’t weird at all.

“You could try going with a girl,” August said wryly, sitting down in front of the TV. He bent his legs, tucking into a ball as best he could, then picked up a controller.

“I don’t like any of the girls at our school, except Gordie, and I can’t just walk up to a random girl and ask her.” Roger shrugged. “Besides, what’s so bad about going with Peter? I go with him everywhere anyway.”

“Yeah. Actually, that’s weird, too. Don’t twins usually try really hard to be different? Because you guys are doing a bad job of that.”

Roger tilted his head to the side and gazed at August quizzically. “Well, no. We were once the same person and we just decided we liked it that way. It’s not weird. It’s just … unusual. And even then, just because it’s unusual doesn’t automatically make it bad. You of all people should understand that.”

Then Roger stopped talking and pressed Play.

THE SPROUT AND THE BEAN

They left school and went back to Jack’s. No one was home. No one was ever home.

They broke into his father’s liquor cabinet, stole some scotch, and went up to sit on the roof.

“There’s patches of forest covering the street,” Jack said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, the second sun keeps things pretty bright here,” Jack said mildly.

“The second WHAT?”

Jack gazed at August dryly. “It’s easy to pretend it’s not there. I mean, do you stare at the sun at all hours of the day?”

August scuffed his heel against the roof. “Point taken,” he mumbled.

“On that note, though, I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job of pretending that all of this isn’t happening,” Jack replied.

“I know,” August said. “Is it too hard?”

Jack grimaced and drank.

“You could always just … stop. Pretending, I mean,” August said quietly. “Well, obviously not at school, but when it’s just us … us and Rina?”

“What good would that do?” Jack gazed out at the setting sun. “And I don’t want to drag Rina into this. It’s fucked up.”

“Yeah. It is fucked up.”

SEVEN