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Career: too soon to tell
What do you like…
Hugs or kisses: hugs for now
Has a guy ever even hugged her? It’s my only thought. One that I’m sure will be plaguing me all night.
Shorter or taller: taller than me. Even if it’s only a little taller. That works too.
Older or younger: older but not too old—I couldn’t do what Daisy Calloway does with her boyfriend, who’s like seven or eight years older (I can’t remember).
And that concludes the questionnaire. She meant it when she said it was personal. I pull my knees up and rest my elbows on them, staring off at the ground.
Shit.
I thought the point of reading that was to get answers, but now I have a thousand more questions. My heart pounds harder, my pulse fast. My body has responded like I chugged a Lightning Bolt!
The door to the break room opens, and I immediately freeze, only now realizing that my legs have been jostling.
“Garrison? Are you in here?”
Lily Calloway.
Great. I’m about to get fired. I rub my temple and run my hands up to my hair, aggressively pulling at it for a second before taking a breath. And then, I slowly stand.
“Yeah?”
She keeps the door propped open, not edging further towards me. “The Avengers vs. X-Men issues need restocking, and they need more hands behind the counter.”
She’s not firing me?
I stare at her blankly for a second before nodding. “Yeah, fine.”
She squints a little. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I motion towards the door. “You going?”
She opens her mouth like she might say something, but then someone calls her from the break room. She turns back to me quickly. “Forget about the comics. Just go help up front.” Her words drift as she rushes out to take care of something else.
I let out a breath of relief.
I still have this job.
And that has to count for something.
october
13
willow moore
“You’re not dressing up?” I ask Garrison.
Seated on my fuzzy blue rug, he plays Street Fighter II on an old Sega Genesis that he brought over in September. My dorm-sized room has more personality than just the bare built-in desk, wooden dresser, and short single bed from when I first moved in.
Daisy Calloway helped me decorate. She said she’d be my labor force, and I could direct her where to go, but I liked hearing what she thought. We both agreed to string lights over the ceiling, nail a yellow poster that says Mutant & Proud in the wall, and arrange my collection of comic books on my desk.
When I tucked in my white bedding, she tossed pale blue pillows on the mattress. The last one was a blue cupcake. It wasn’t something we picked out in the store together. She said that she stitched it in her spare time—with Rose’s assistance who’s “the better sewer”—but it’s my favorite pillow. Because Daisy made it just for me.
Sitting on my bed, I watch as Ryu (Garrison’s character) attacks Blanka.
Ryu lands a punch, pushing Blanka back a couple inches.
“I don’t know yet,” Garrison says. His fingers nimbly fly over buttons, and as Blanka lies flat on his back, he pauses the game and rotates to face me.
A blonde wig is already tight on my head. I twist the hair in a single braid, the strands so long the braid reaches my thighs. This Halloween, I’m going with my staple costume, Vega from Street Fighter.
Garrison scrutinizes my hair and then his eyes fall to mine. “Are you sure you want me to come?”
My brother (it’s actually starting to feel normal calling Loren Hale that) is hosting a Halloween party for the neighborhood. Garrison is technically already invited since he lives in the same neighborhood, but I asked him to come with me anyway.
This past month has been…difficult at Dalton Academy.
No one harasses me or stuffs my locker with things anymore, but I haven’t made any friends either. Lots of behind-the-back whispers.
If someone even tries to talk to me, they only ever ask about Loren Hale. I always shut down at the start of those questions. If I discuss my time with Lo and Lily or any of her sisters, I feel like I’m betraying them.
But I finally have a nickname.
Wordless Willow.
Apparently not responding to someone paints a target on you. Though, my whole body was practically painted red before I even arrived at Dalton.
I haven’t exactly told Lo any of this. I also don’t plan to tell him today or tomorrow. Some things, I have to deal with on my own.
My current plan: focus on my classwork and not the people in my classes. I only have one semester after this one ends. I can make it.
“I want you there,” I tell Garrison. I’m not going to know many people besides Lo, Lily, her sisters, and their significant others. “But if you don’t want to go—”
