Page 68 of The Wicker King

Jack had been waiting. He’d been trying. He was scared. There were tears in his eyes and it took August’s breath away.

They were being watched, but August didn’t care. He curled his fingers into Jack’s shirt and dragged him closer.

“How long?” He had to know.

“August, please—”

“How long have you been waiting for me?” The words tore themselves roughly from his throat.

Jack closed his eyes and hung his head in despair. It had been before all of this, then. Maybe even earlier.

August brushed his fingertips against the sharp edge of Jack’s jaw. Then he touched the edge of the bandage on the side of Jack’s head.

“I’m right here,” he said. “I’ve always been right here.”

The sound Jack made was so quiet and so desperately lonely. So August closed the last inch between them, and answered it. He ate up the noises Jack made, sweet and lush as they were, and tasted the rest of their lives.

“When we are free and have healed from this, will you stay?” he gasped. “Will you stay with me?”

The guard pounded on the door. Jack jerked back from him with a start and placed his hands in full view of the window. He was still wrecked and wanting, glorious and raw. August reached back out for him, instinctively, but Jack shook his head, scrambling to his feet as the door began to open.

“I have to go. But I’ll be back for you,” Jack promised.

“Mr. Rossi, your time is up.”

“I’ll be back for you. I always will.”

The door shut loudly behind him, and August was once again left alone in the dark..

WHITE

He had three weeks left to spend alone in the ward. Some days passed quickly. Others stretched into years. Every movement was weighed down by a thousand pounds of lethargy.

How can you breathe with hands squeezing your lungs, or see when your sun has been struck from the sky?

Sometimes August walked the hallways. Technically, he didn’t have to stay in his room anymore, so he went around looking at everything, trying to put the whole experience to memory. They allowed him to have paper now, and he’d stolen a pen from Dr. Cho’s office, so sometimes he even wrote. He wasn’t very good at it yet, but one day he would be better.

Maybe he would skip over this part and just write the story of the adventure. Like a children’s book. Concentrate on the mystery and magic and leave out the fire, hunger, and fear. They could keep that for themselves. Whisper of it in the dark, fifty years from now, over whiskey and expensive cigars.

It would just be another one of those small hardships packaged away and sent to where history goes to die. Leaving the tale as untouched and lovely as the fall morning when they’d first found the toy factory.

Boarded up and whole.

POST

They gave him his letters at the end. They’d held them from him all this time.

One was from Roger, the other was a padded envelope from Rina. He opened Roger’s first:

Dear August,

Peter said you wouldn’t want to hear from us. He’s probably right, but I didn’t want you to think we were mad at you or forgot about you. I know we can get a little bit … I don’t know. But Peter cares, even if he acts like he’s too smart or strong to.

Anyway, after you left they boarded up the factory for good. Peter and I stopped by to see. They put up a “for lease” sign and everything. It was the only thing anyone talked about for weeks after you left. Kids had been going over there and acting like it’s haunted. I’m glad they boarded it up. I didn’t think you’d like that.

Everyone else is doing all right. Gordie got into Yale, which surprised everyone. Peter and I are going to Brown and Alex decided to stay in town and get a job in the town next to us. She told us to tell you that she’ll make you as many muffins as you like when you get back.

I don’t know if they let you send letters in there, but if they do, can you send one back?