Page 55 of The Wicker King

“I don’t want your drugs, Roger, but thanks for offering. I just want to take my picture and go to class so I can get back to sleep,” August mumbled.

Peter put his hands down and stared at August helplessly. “Well. That’s the best we can do. They’re making us line up in alphabetical order, so we have to go and get in the back. See you later.” The twins walked away, but not without Roger sending August one of the most profound looks of pity he’d ever received in his entire life.

August clenched his hands into fists and stepped into line.

FLASH

“So, do you want the gray background or the black background?”

“Black.”

The light was so bright, August’s eyes could barely focus. He squinted at the camera.

“Sit up straight and smile!”

Yeah, he wasn’t doing that. August took the opportunity to try to search Jack out near the back of the line to see how he was doing.

“Seriously, kid. You only get one shot.”

Oh, he found him. Jack was up against the wall, hand outstretched to guide himself forward. Leaning into the warmth of the person in front of him to sightlessly follow the pattern of the line. People bumped into him and he crumpled under their force, unprotected. Like a small white boat being tossed in the black waves of a rolling sea. August’s heart seized at the sight.

“I said, you’re done.”

He stumbled down from the chair and started toward the Wicker King like he was being pulled forward by an invisible rope. But before he could get there, his English teacher blocked his path.

“All students must sit on the bleachers until the rest of the class is finished.”

August shook his head to clear his mind and rubbed at his eyes. “Oh. Okay. Sorry.” He went to go sit on the bench with the others.

THE CLOVEN KING RISES

August had detention that day, so he didn’t get out of school until late. He trudged home tiredly. But before he could even make it all the way inside the house, he heard the screams. He sprinted up the stairs and threw his bedroom door open. Nothing. He ran into the bathroom, where he found him. Jack was shuttered in a corner, curled as small as he could make himself, with his arms over his head. August threw himself into Jack, prying his arms up roughly and checking for injuries. He glanced back through the door and briefly considered if this was bad enough to disturb his mom about.

“August! August!” Jack shrieked as he clawed August’s back and arms.

“Jack! Calm down!” he shouted over the hysteria to no avail. Part of him wanted to push Jack away, run downstairs, and call the emergency room, but another part wanted to clutch Jack to him and join in his panic. “Jack!” August grabbed him by the back of the neck and gripped hard, digging his nails into the skin. “Jack, stop!”

“Noo…” Jack shuddered with terror. “Please.”

“What is happening?! WHAT ARE YOU SEEING?”

“They’re standing around you,” Jack whispered, his eyes wide and blind. “Ten of them. Dressed in black. They’re speaking to me, but I can’t hear them. It doesn’t work that way. I can’t hear them and they’re changing the world. My world. And I can’t change it back…”

“What are they changing it to?” August asked, gripping Jack’s face between his hands. “Jack! You have to tell me what’s going on!”

Jack sank to the floor in unspeakable melancholy, dragging August down with him. “I don’t know,” he sobbed. “I don’t know.”

LOVE

They awoke on the bathroom floor. Jack’s face was still stained salty from the night before. He lifted his head and looked at August critically. August stared back at him, exhausted.

“You’re so thin…,” Jack said. “You haven’t been eating.”

August swallowed. His throat burned like he’d been gulping down steel wool. He closed his eyes against the look on Jack’s face. His head felt so heavy.

“August, you have to eat,” Jack urged. He raised his fingers to August’s lips and brushed his fingertips across them, his skin catching on the dryness. “You’re going to die,” Jack gasped shakily. He sounded scared again.

“So are you,” August whispered. “We can’t live this way, Jack. We have to tell someone. We’re just … kids.”