Comics Will Break Your Heart

by Faith Erin Hicks

  “People would go through a drive-through in only their bathrobes?” Miriam said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Yep.”

  “Ew.”

  “You have no idea,” said Weldon.

  The screen door banged and Miriam and Weldon looked up. Stella came through the door, paint splatters on her arms and clothing. Henry was behind her, a smudge of bright purple paint on his cheek. Stella smiled when she saw Weldon.

  “Hello, Weldon.”

  “Hi,” said Weldon. “Miriam’s been telling me about her job hunt.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Stella, staring down at the papers strewn on the floor. “Miriam tells me this is something that would be a lot easier if only we had better internet.”

  “It would be,” said Miriam grumpily.

  “Probably,” Stella agreed. “Maybe someday the internet gods will smile upon us, giving us the high-speed access we so desire, but for the moment we don’t have it, and thus we must all make do.”

  “Sigh,” said Miriam.

  Stella turned to Weldon.

  “Will you be staying for dinner, Weldon?”

  Yes, Weldon thought, delighted, then realized he couldn’t.

  “I’m really gross from jogging,” he said, gesturing at his running clothes. “And I gotta get home. My aunt and uncle are expecting me. They’re probably wondering where I am now, actually.” Weldon glanced at his phone, alarmed at how late it was. It would be a problem if his aunt and uncle got home and he wasn’t there. I’m being good, he thought. I’m going to Comic-Con in a month, so I have to be good. He stood, feeling stiff. Sitting cross-legged on the floor after running had been a terrible idea.

  “Miriam, why don’t you see Weldon out?” said Stella, nodding at Mir. She scrambled to her feet, pausing to collect the job listings. Stella waved her off, saying she would do it.

  Weldon followed Miriam out on the porch. She turned toward him and he saw a shadow had fallen across her face. They stood opposite each other, suddenly awkward.

  “Maybe we could hang out again,” Weldon said.

  “Maybe,” Miriam said, but she didn’t look at him. Weldon felt his heart lurch in his chest. Had she changed her mind about the smile? One minute she seemed happy to see him, the next she withdrew. He chafed at the unfairness of it. I said I was sorry for what the Warricks did to her, and she said she was sorry for being mean to me. So can’t we just be friends?

  “Well, goodbye,” Weldon said. Mir nodded, but her gaze was inward, and she didn’t seem to notice when he began walking down the road away from her, toward home.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Miriam sat on a small stone bench outside her high school’s front doors, swinging her legs underneath it. Evan was lying on his back beside her, hands folded on his chest, staring up at the sky. He was frowning, and the frown had notched a small divot between his eyebrows. Mir wanted to ask him what he was thinking about, but he’d been quiet that day, and she worried it was something serious. Mir didn’t think she could handle any serious conversation at the moment: her stomach was doing cartwheels as she watched the high school entrance for Raleigh and Jamie. Today was the day she was going to tell them about her plans for next year, about school and Toronto and leaving Sandford. Mir had been practicing her speech over and over in her head.

  Hey, guys, I have something to tell you. I’ve decided about next year. I’m going to Toronto—

  Hey, guys, I want to tell you something. I’m applying for university next year, out of province—

  Hey, guys, I want—um—I need—

  Hey, guys, I—

  Terrible.

  Mir had told Evan about her decision the day after she’d made it. He’d picked her up and swung her around in a circle, shouting congratulations. When he’d put her back on the ground, she’d searched his face for any sign that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed to be, but there was nothing. She’d asked him to come with her to tell Jamie and Raleigh, and he’d agreed. It would be the first time in weeks all four of them had been together.

  “I don’t think I want to give that Warrick guy the TomorrowMen comic script,” Evan said now.

  Miriam looked over at him. His eyebrows had drawn even farther down his forehead, the divot between them deepening alarmingly.

  “Why?”

  “I dunno,” said Evan. “I just changed my mind, I guess.”

  Mir stared at Evan, concerned.

  “Did something happen?”

  “No, nothing. I just—” Evan looked toward the front of the school. The doors opened and a trio of ninth graders tumbled out, shouting and pushing one another. “I just feel like maybe it’s stupid to give him this script. It’s like you said: Warrick Studios isn’t going to hire me to write their comics, so what’s the point?”

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” Mir said.

  “Nah, you’re right.”

  “No,” Mir said. “I was wrong. The script is good, and we should finish it. And you should finish it because … because getting hired shouldn’t be the only reason you write a comic script. You should finish it because you have the chance to make something awesome.”

  Evan chuckled.

  “My dad would say that’s damn dirty hippie talk, Mir,” he said, folding his hands under his head and looking back toward the school doors. “He’s always like, No point in doing something if you’re not gonna get paid for your labor.”

  “Do you agree with that?”

  Evan continued looking in the direction of the school doors.

  “No. I know your mom doesn’t get paid to make those paintings, and they’re still worth doing. The way she paints the TomorrowMen is incredible.”

  Evan looked back at Mir, his hands still behind his head.

  “I mean, she should get paid to paint the TomorrowMen. If everything was fair, she would. But it’s still awesome that she paints them.”

  Mir nodded. It is awesome, she thought.

  “We’ve got most of the script written down,” Mir said. “It won’t take much to finish it. Please?”

  “I was thinking about the script the other day, trying to think of ways to make it better,” Evan said. “I kept thinking about it and suddenly I couldn’t remember anything that was good about it. Every word I’d put down on paper felt like the wrong word. And I hate the ending. There’s something wrong about the ending.”

  “Evan—”

  “Mir, it’s fine.” Evan pushed himself into a sitting position, looking over his shoulder at her. The frown line between his eyebrows was gone. His usual smile was back in place, beaming out from underneath his beard. “I think writing the script was worth doing. But I don’t think I want anyone to see it. I don’t know why I even asked that Warrick guy if I could send it to him.”

  “The script is really good,” Mir said. “You have something to say about Tristan Terrific, and you say it in an interesting way. I really—I want—” Mir looked away from Evan. His smile was starting to fade.

  “Why’s it important to you I do this?” Evan said.

  “I don’t want you to give up,” she said. Is that true? Mir thought. Half of her did want something for Evan, something that wasn’t related to his father’s business. Something for him alone, because he was kind and sweet and deserved it. The other half of her felt selfish and grasping. She wanted Evan to write a story because it made him a little more like her.

  “I feel so weird about it,” Evan said. “I just wish I hadn’t been all, ‘Ooh, lemme send you a TomorrowMen script, David Warrick’s son.’ Me and my big mouth. I’m always saying stuff before I think about it.”

  “I like that about you,” Mir said. “You say what’s on your mind. And most of the time it’s something nice.”

  The school doors swung open and Jamie and Raleigh walked out. Mir’s heart leaped at the sight of them. She’d seen them in the halls before class the past week, and had made polite conversation. Today was different. Her stomach did one final cartwheel as she stood up. Evan stood up b
eside her and started to walk toward Jamie and Raleigh.

  Mir snagged his sleeve.

  “I want to finish the script. It’s your script, you can do what you want with it. You don’t have to give it to Weldon Warrick, but I still think you should finish it.”

  Evan stood opposite Mir for a moment. Finally he nodded.

  “I’ll finish it. Then we’ll see. Is that enough?”

  “Yeah,” Mir said, “it is.”

  They walked to meet Jamie and Raleigh. Raleigh’s face was turned toward Mir, and the warmth in her expression made Mir’s heart ache. She was dressed in a yellow-and-green summer dress, clashing with Jamie’s black and gray T-shirt and jeans. They looked so different from each other. And yet they had chosen each other, out of all the teenagers in Sandford. Mir wished it was different, then felt awful for wishing something so cruel.

  “Hi,” said Raleigh. “You guys going home?”

  “Yeah,” Mir said. “We were waiting for you, actually. I wanted to talk to you about something. But I can talk while we walk.”

  “That rhymes,” said Raleigh, smiling. “You’re a poet.”

  They fell into step, Mir beside Raleigh, who held hands with Jamie. Evan walked beside Jamie. They had walked home together like this most of last year. The year before that, it had only been Mir, Raleigh, and Evan, with Evan in the middle. When Jamie joined the group, he pushed Evan’s orbit outward, as though trying to slingshot him away from Miriam and Raleigh.

  “How are things going with your job hunt?” Raleigh said. Mir had told her about the bankruptcy of the Emporium of Wonders the day after it had happened. It was easier to talk about losing a job than choosing to leave home and go to school in Toronto.

  “Terrible,” said Mir. “I can’t find anything that doesn’t require barista experience. Why are there so many coffee shops opening up in Sandford?”

  “There’s a gourmet burger joint opening where the Emporium of Wonders used to be. Maybe they need people,” Jamie said. His gaze was straight ahead, not aimed at Mir. He was careful and polite with her whenever they’d bumped into each other the past two weeks, but he rarely made eye contact. Mir had started to feel like she was floating whenever she talked to him, his lack of eye contact untethering her from the conversation.

  “Thanks,” said Mir. “I’ll check them out.”

  “What did you want to talk to us about?” Raleigh said.

  Mir took a breath.

  “I’m going to apply for university next year. Out of province. Probably Toronto. Maybe Montreal.”

  Raleigh turned toward Mir, her expression puzzled.

  “Oh,” she said. “Didn’t you tell me you were doing that already? I thought you did.”

  “No,” Mir said. “I just decided. I—it’s been driving me crazy recently, trying to decide if I was going to apply or not next year, don’t you remember?”

  “No,” said Raleigh. “I swear you told me you were going already. Like, months ago. I kinda thought you decided that was what you wanted in grade nine.”

  Mir stared at Raleigh. Raleigh’s hair was pinned back at the sides with two butterfly barrettes. It made her look younger than sixteen. Mir blinked at her stupidly, trying to process Raleigh’s words.

  “You went into the advanced classes in grade ten,” Raleigh said. “I stayed in the general stream. Kids in the advanced stream go to university. Isn’t that how it works?”

  “No,” said Mir. “I mean, yes, but not always. I just—I just decided I wanted to…” She stopped, not sure how to continue. Raleigh was still looking at her, waiting.

  Jamie laughed.

  “Oh, please,” he said. “You’re acting like this is something you actually had to decide. It’s not. You were planning to leave for years.”

  “No,” said Mir. Jamie turned toward her. The look in his eyes was ugly.

  “You’re not some genius, you know,” he said. “I’ve read your essays. Mine are just as good. But you get this opportunity because your family won some comic book lawsuit—” Evan shoved him, hard. Jamie stumbled away from Raleigh, spinning around to face the three of them.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Evan said. The words came out hot, like how his father yelled. Mir had never heard Evan yell before. It was awful.

  “The fuck my problem is? Don’t ever touch me again, asshole—”

  “You’re always such a dick to her—” Evan was screaming, his face flushed.

  Next to Mir, Raleigh started to shake. “Stop it, stop,” she whispered.

  “I’m a dick? I’m a dick?”

  “I’m pointing at you, aren’t I? You’re the one dropping bullshit about her family, saying they’re secretly rich or some shit—”

  “You’re so in love with her you can’t see how far your head’s up her ass! Fuck you!”

  Their words piled on top of one another. Mir stood rooted to the spot, watching it unfold. She felt strangely removed from the fight, as though she was watching it behind glass. Beside her, Raleigh was crying, her hands held up over her mouth. Jamie’s eyes were black with anger, the cords on his neck standing out as he screamed at Evan. They stood opposite each other as they fought, neither boy taking a step forward. Mir was thankful for that, at least. She didn’t have a garden hose to separate them.

  “She treats the rest of us like we’re beneath her! Just because her grandfather wrote some fucking comic books! Who gives a shit—”

  “He drew the fucking comic books!” Evan roared. “You’re so full of shit you don’t even know what her grandfather did!” Mir felt a ridiculous urge to laugh. No one screwed up comic book facts when Evan was around.

  “Who cares?” said Jamie. He reached up and pushed a hand through his hair, flipping it back from his forehead. He looked over at Mir and Raleigh.

  “You’re not so special,” he snarled at Mir. “You just have parents willing to cosign your student loan.”

  “Yeah,” said Mir softly, “I do.” A wave of sympathy swept over her. Her parents were willing to risk themselves financially for her. She knew then Jamie’s weren’t.

  Jamie held out a hand for Raleigh. She went to him, and the four of them stood for a moment, staring at one another. The divide between them felt infinite. Jamie turned and walked away, Raleigh beside him. Mir watched her go, the finality of the moment echoing across the empty street.

  Mir and Evan walked home in silence. They usually split up when they reached Sandford’s main street, Mir heading away from downtown, Evan going through it to reach the suburbs on the other side. This time Evan continued walking beside Mir. Finally they stopped at the beginning of Mir’s road.

  “Thanks for defending me,” Mir said. Evan shrugged, shaking his head.

  “Just saying what’s on my mind. Fuck Jamie. Fuck him and the horse he rode in on.”

  Mir sighed, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. All she wanted was to lie down on her bed and pull the covers over her head.

  “I thought if I kept pretending, kept acting like everything was okay, then things would be,” Mir said. “Jamie is such a butt.”

  “Jesus Christ, Mir,” Evan said. “Watch your fucking language.”

  Mir laughed, shaking her head.

  “Sure thing, Evan.”

  He reached out, wrapping his arms around Mir. She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek into his T-shirt. She felt exhausted, like she’d run a marathon while holding her breath.

  “Oh,” Evan said, “I remembered what I forgot to tell you.” Mir pulled away, looking up at him.

  “There’s a golf course opening up across the bridge. My dad did some landscaping for them earlier in the year, and I think it’ll be open in a couple weeks. They’re looking for turf workers for the summer. Y’know, to make the grass look pretty.” Evan grinned at Mir. “You could apply. No experience needed.”

  “Wouldn’t I have to get up really early in the morning?” Mir asked. Next to physical labor and Evan’s dad yelling at her, getting up early was her least favorite th
ing.

  “Sure,” said Evan, “but it’s not heavy work. I think they mostly need people to cut and maintain the grass and those sand traps. You should call them soon if you want a job. They’ll probably go fast.”

  “I hate getting up early,” Mir said.

  Evan reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. He bent his face toward her, and Mir had the sudden horrible thought that he was going to try to kiss her.

  “Suck it up, kid,” Evan said. “You’re an adult now, and with great power comes great responsibility.”

  Mir smirked.

  “You read too many comic books, Evan.”

  “I read just enough.” Evan turned and walked down Sandford’s only downtown street, waving goodbye to her over his shoulder.

  In the kitchen of her parents’ house, Mir stared at the phone on the wall. She had already reached for it three times, deciding at the last minute that it was too soon to call Raleigh. I don’t want that fight to be the last time I see her, Mir thought. Even if we’re not going to be friends anymore, it can’t end like that. A small voice in the back of Mir’s mind piped up, eager and pointed: It could end exactly like that. Mir pressed the heel of her palm into her eye, willing the small voice into silence.

  The house was empty. Mir wasn’t sure where the rest of her family was. She longed for Nate or her dad to come thundering through the front door, to fill the silence with noise and distraction. She didn’t want to go to her room and lie on her bed and cry. She felt like she’d cried too much lately.

  Mir thought of Jamie screaming at Evan and felt sick. I need someone to talk to. Someone. Anyone.

  The phone book was on the top of the fridge. Mir pulled it down and flipped through the residential numbers, heading for the W section. There were five Warricks listed, but only one with the initials A & K. Mir hadn’t met Alex or Katherine Warrick, but she knew their names from looking them up online. Alex Warrick had a short Wikipedia entry explaining that he was the brother of Warrick Studios’ David Warrick and had written one issue of Ultimate Skybound in the early 1990s. Wikipedia had an encouraging note under the entry that if anyone wanted to add more to Alex Warrick’s page, they should feel free to do so.