Page 96 of Icarus

“When I am ready.”

Breathe

Icarus couldn’t stop either. Not yet. He still needed the gold. Goddamn him, but he still needed to take something and leave nothing behind.

It would be the last thing Icarus stole from that house.

Nose

Icarus fingered the cup of lavender Earl Grey tea Julian had brought him.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Icarus said. “I know I say thank you every day, but I mean it generally speaking. Not just for the drink.”

Julian turned around in his chair to look at Icarus.

“Why do you sound sad?” he said, scowling at him.

Icarus shrugged. “I’m not. I just figured you should know that this has meant a lot to me.”

“Okayyyyy . . .” Julian slowly swiveled toward the front of the room. “If you were trying not to sound foreboding, you definitely failed.”

Icarus just laughed and looked out the window. The sun was shining bright and crisp.

“After graduation, do you think we could write each other letters?” he asked softly.

“Like, emails?” Julian said, quieter, as class began to start.

“No, like actual letters. Old-fashioned.”

Julian gave him a look of such intense annoyance over his shoulder that Icarus couldn’t help but laugh again, and was harshly shhed by Rebecca Smith next to him.

“Why?”

“I’ll miss how mean you are,” Icarus said, frankly, ignoring Rebecca.

“Can’t you find a new bully?” Julian hissed.

Icarus finally did what he’d been wanting to for months. He reached forward and flipped the tag sticking out of Julian’s sweater back inside. Julian arched hysterically and slapped his hand where Icarus’s had just been.

“What the—”

“Your tag.”

“I know! I know, I pull them up on purpose because it’s too scratchy,” Julian griped.

“You should just cut them out.”

“What?”

“Here.” Icarus dug in his bag and found his X-Acto knife from art class. He pulled back Julian’s sweater and slipped the blade around the tag until it was free. Then, he patted Julian’s sweater back into place.

“There you go.”

Julian rubbed the spot from behind.

“Hmm. I’ll write you letters, you big sap,” he murmured. “You better write me back or I’ll stop doing it.”

“I will.”