Angst Box Set 2

by David Pedersen

  “That’s because you were drinking,” he said, excited to surprise her with that bit of knowledge. “You always talk a lot when you drink.”

  “I probably did too much of that, too,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you everything?”

  “I don’t know,” he asked. “Did you?”

  “No,” she said softly. “But the rest can wait until later. Much later.”

  “Not later,” he said in frustration. “Now!”

  “What would you like to know?” she asked with a patient smile.

  “Stop it. Quit tugging at my leg,” he said, looking down at his feet. Clod faced his mum. “Did he really make stuff, like me?”

  “As I told you, your father was a sculptor,” she said, placing a warm hand on his cheek. “Like you, he made stuff.”

  “Could he have made Ada?” Clod asked in excitement.

  “Yes,” a squeaky voice cried up from his feet. “Could he have made me?”

  Ada was too small to reach the bed. He bent over and gently lifted her to the edge of the thin mattress. She was solid, like one would expect from a mass of clay, but lighter, and warm with life.

  “Be careful, Clod,” she warned. “You’ll squish me again.”

  “Don’t say clod like you’re talking about dirt,” he snapped defensively.

  The clay girl rested a tiny hand on his finger, her face worried. “I didn’t mean it like that, I promise.”

  “Okay,” he said, his hurt washed away by her touch.

  He was very proud of Ada, more than ever. She was taller than last time, reaching almost a foot, with much greater detail. As she had requested, on many occasions, her dress now fell to her ankles. Ada had more definition in her hands and feet, though many of her features were still too angular to appear natural. It still frustrated him that no matter what he did, her eyes and mouth were dark holes. She still looked like clay, and smelled like clay, but he had done one thing that had earned him a hug. Ada’s hair was now brown.

  It had taken two years to figure out how to imbue the clay with even the smallest amount of color. Dyes had been a disaster, both to Ada and his mother’s kitchen. He’d tried painting her, but ended up getting more paint on himself than her sculpture—and when she woke, it all disappeared. His mum had suggested focusing on just one thing rather than trying to change all of Ada. Ada had requested her hair.

  It had been a good week. School was on break, which meant no mean kids, and his anticipation of seeing Ada had boosted his morale. He could practically hear her say, “You can do it, Clod!” So he wished and willed, until finally, the gray was replaced with a rich brown. It was much curlier than his mother’s, and not quite the same color, but he’d made it look almost real.

  “Oh my,” his mother said, gently stroking Ada’s hair with a finger. “I see you’ve been busy, Clod.”

  Clod said nothing, but was elated that she’d noticed. Ada arched her back and smiled.

  “You look lovely, Ada,” Eidy said.

  “Thank you, Miss,” Ada said, holding out the sides of her dress with a slight curtsy.

  “To answer your question, no,” his mother said. “I don’t believe anyone but you could make Ada.”

  He smiled so much it hurt. Ada patted his hand excitedly.

  “Would he...” Clod began. “Would he be proud?”

  “Very,” his mum said mid-yawn.

  “Did he ever make anyone live?” he asked. “Like I can?”

  “What time is it?” she asked, her voice thick with morning.

  “I dunno,” Clod said. “The sun’s been out for a little while.”

  She looked at Ada thoughtfully and shook her head. When her eyes met Clod’s, her mouth curled up in the tiniest of smiles. “Would you like to go outside and play with your friend?” she asked.

  Every question about his dad was forgotten. Ada’s head whipped around to look at Clod. Her tiny eye-holes widened, and she nodded in excitement.

  “But...but, I thought you said we weren’t supposed to go outside and play?” he asked, nervous of some unknown danger his mother had forgotten to share.

  Ada elbowed his hand and glared as if he’d already spoiled everything. For two years, they’d been told to stay at home, and there had to be a reason. What if rock goblins or tree pixies were known to steal away clay girls and eat them? Not to mention, this was such a surprise, he needed to know if it was true.

  “You can now, this once,” his mum said. “But please, stay close. And don’t let anyone see Ada.”

  Ada yelped as he grasped her in a hand and ran out the door before his mum could change her mind. There was a pinch in his finger as the clay girl bit down. He loosened his hold with a grunt.

  “That hurt,” he said, pushing through the wooden door of their home.

  “Sorry, but I couldn’t see,” she said. “I’ve never been outside, and…and…oh.”

  A thin, dry snow covered the ground like a sheet of ice, crunching noisily beneath every footstep. The surrounding forest felt close; branches that were normally out of reach hung low from the weight of snow and ice. A carpet of white covered the path leading from their house, making it almost impossible to see. The gentle creak of tree limbs was the only sound that broke the eerie silence of their woodland surroundings.

  Clod took in a deep breath of air that smelled crisp and fresh, then let it out in a huff of steamy breath. Ada’s eyes widened in amazement, and she breathed out as much as she could, grabbing at the cloud while it passed through her fingers.

  “Please,” she said. “Set me down.”

  He scanned the nearby woods for any sign of danger before gently placing her on a patch of snow. She looked down, lifting one foot then the other in a sort of slow march.

  “What is that? Are my feet cold?” she asked with wide, excited eyes.

  “You…you can feel?” he asked. “Are you okay? I think I can make you shoes.”

  “I feel the cold, but just a little,” she said, wiggling her toes. “It doesn’t hurt, at least not right now. Maybe I need shoes next time!”

  “Okay,” he said, feeling a little giddy.

  Like a field mouse, Ada ran a short distance, jumped over a stick, and landed in a small pile of leaves and snow. She rolled over and over, giggling in delight as snow and dirt were thrown about in her fearsome attack. Completely covered beneath the debris, she stopped moving, and his heart skipped. She was so still that he worried their time together was over already. She normally lasted part of a day, sometimes even into the evening. It was unusual for her to go away so soon, and his happiness was starting to leak out like water from a rusty bucket. Especially since this was their first time outside together.

  “Ada?” he asked, shuffling forward, careful not to step on the clay girl.

  He moved in inches, painfully aware of his enormous feet, until finally reaching the pile of snow and leaves that had swallowed her. He leaned over close to the ground, gingerly poking a finger into the mass and stirring it like a spoon in soup.

  “Please don’t go yet,” he said softly.

  “Boo!” The clay girl popped out of the snow and kissed him on the nose.

  He gasped, reeling back in shock. A wary smile snuck across his face, happy that they could continue their adventure, but he was also frustrated that Ada had teased him like that. She laughed and laughed while he stood there in his own discomfort.

  “That wasn’t funny,” he said, hurt that she would tease him so. “Now you’re picking on me like the other kids.”

  “No, Clod,” she said. “Not like the other kids. They say mean things and push you around. I surprised you, that’s all. Friends tease in good ways.”

  “I guess,” Clod said. He was slow to recover, but always appreciated it when she referred to him as a friend.

  “You must have other friends who tease you in good ways,” she said. “When do I get to meet them?”

  “I, uh, I…” He didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t come up with anything bette
r than the truth. “I don’t have any other friends.”

  “What?” she asked, almost accusingly.

  “It’s true,” he said, his cheeks warming. “I don’t. You’re my only friend.”

  “But I only get to see you every three weeks or so,” she said. “What do you do when I’m not there?”

  “I wait,” he said. “I practice making you more…better.”

  “You’re amazing,” she said, spinning in place. Her dress flowed lithely around her. “And I love my hair. Thank you, Clod. You did wonderfully.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, glancing up from the ground.

  “Clod,” she said, her smile wavering. “Why don’t you have any friends? Other than me?”

  His warmth and excitement suddenly cooled. In the privacy of the small cottage, he rarely had to explain himself to Ada. He would spend three weeks sculpting her, pouring his heart into his creation until she finally woke. They would spend their day talking, playing games, and being friends. Now, out here, in the open, he feared she would come to realize why nobody else liked him. He feared she would leave him if she knew the truth.

  “I dunno,” he said, shuffling his feet.

  “Clod,” she said, tugging on the hem of his pants. “Tell me.”

  There was something about having a friend, a real friend, that made it impossible to hold back. It made him feel queasy, like lying to his mother. She deserved to know, even if it hurt, and so he muttered it as quietly as he could.

  “I couldn’t hear you,” Ada said.

  “I’m ugly, okay,” he snapped, shaking her off his leg.

  She flew from his leg and smashed against a tree, sticking to it. Clod rushed to her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, unable to hold back the tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so big and clumsy, I just hurt everyone. That’s why nobody likes me.”

  She blinked several times before jerking her head away from the tree bark. His fingers were too thick to pry her free without doing more damage to the clay.

  “Please don’t leave,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” she said, her voice shaky. “It’s not time yet. Just give me a moment.”

  With a tiny grunt, she wrenched one arm free as though it were stuck to a cobweb. She pulled the second arm loose before grasping a leg. He watched helplessly as she pried both legs from the tree and dropped to the ground. Ada stood, dusted herself off, and looked up at him.

  “Why are you crying?” she asked, the dark circles of her eyes forming a frown. “I said it was okay.”

  “Because I hurt you,” he said with a deep sniffle. “I hurt everyone. It’s always an accident. I never mean it. I’m big, and I’m ugly, and I hurt people. And now I hurt you, and you won’t want to be my friend.”

  Clod couldn’t hold back the tears. Ada was his only friend, and now she was going to leave him because he was a monster...

  “I don’t think you’re ugly, Clod,” she said.

  “I need to make your eyes better,” he said with a sniff.

  She giggled, which was his favorite.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said.

  “It only hurt a little,” she said. “It was an accident, but you need to be careful.”

  He nodded, sniffing loudly.

  “And you need to stop crying,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “Wut?” he asked in surprise. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

  “Well, I don’t think I’m going to die,” Ada said. “And I’m not going to stop being your friend for doing something dumb.”

  “That’s not nice,” he said.

  “Neither was kicking me into a tree,” she said firmly. “It’s okay to feel bad, Clod, but then you get over it.”

  He brushed snow off a fallen tree and slumped onto it. “The other kids are mean to me all the time. It’s hard to get over it.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Do you like them?” she asked.

  “No,” he said with a frown.

  “Do they mean anything to you?” she asked. “If they left, would you miss them?”

  “Definitely not,” he said.

  “Then their words shouldn’t mean anything to you either,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “Yeah,” he said, wiping his nose.

  “You’re not ugly, Clod,” she said.

  “You just say that because I made you,” he said.

  “Do you think I’m ugly?” Ada asked.

  “No,” he said. “You’re as beautiful as my mum.”

  “That’s a sweet thing to say,” she said with a broad smile. “But why do you say you’re ugly?”

  “Just look at me,” he said, gesturing to himself with both hands. “I’m taller than all of the other kids my age, and fat. My cheeks droop, my hair is scraggy, and my teeth are jagged. One kid said my eyes look dull, like me. I talk slow, so people think I’m stupid. I’m so clumsy, I hurt everyone. I’m a monster.”

  “Who told you this?” Ada asked, stomping a foot and placing fists on her hips.

  “Ried and other kids in my class,” he said, his voice trailing off.

  “And you believe them?” she asked.

  He said nothing, instead pretending his feet were interesting.

  Ada fell back into the snow and stared up at the cloudy sky.

  “It’s a pretty night,” Ada said. “The moon looks beautiful.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked. “It’s morning.”

  “No, it’s night,” she said firmly, pointing to the clouds. “Don’t you see the stars?”

  “No,” he said, glancing at the sky. “Maybe you hit your head too hard against the tree.”

  “So, I’m your friend, and you don’t believe me that it’s night?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “You’re not making sense.”

  “But you believe the bullies at school when they say you’re ugly,” she said.

  “Well…” his voice trailed off.

  She stared at him, for a long while, but said nothing.

  “Let’s do something fun,” she said.

  “Yuh,” he agreed, grateful for the change in conversation. “We should visit the big cave by the sea. It’s at the edge of our property so no one is ever there. Mum says it’s filled with trolls, but I think she’s just trying to scare me so I don’t go.”

  “We should do that someday,” she said. “But I want to visit your town.”

  “Really?” he asked in surprise. “But mum said no one should see you.”

  “Then we'll be sneaky,” she said. It was hard to make out her expression, but her voice sounded full of mischief. “First, fix my back. I don’t think it’s right.”

  She turned around, and he winced. Bark from the tree had left a hollow indentation between her shoulders that would’ve been grotesque if she were human. He wasn’t sure what to do or if he could even fix Ada while she was awake. But he would try.

  “Wait here,” Clod said, rushing back to the cottage. He returned with a handful of clay, squeezing and warming it with his large hand until it was malleable. “I’m not sure if this will work, so hold still.”

  “Okay,” Ada said, sounding a little worried.

  He gently pressed a bit of clay into her back, and it immediately fell off. The second try didn’t stick, nor did the third.

  “Ouch,” she said. “Not so rough.”

  “Sorry.” He harrumphed. “I don’t understand why it’s not working.”

  “I’m not completely clay when I come to visit,” she said, trying to look at the damage over her shoulder. “I change when you use your magic.”

  “Oh,” Clod said. He never completely understood how she came to be, he just sort of did it. His magic was mostly depleted by the time she woke up, and he definitely didn’t have enough to start from scratch, but maybe there was a little bit left.

  “I’ll try one more time,” he said. “I promise to be
gentle.”

  “Okay,” Ada said bravely. Facing forward, she squeezed her eyes shut and balled up her tiny fists. “You can do it.”

  Clod closed his eyes and tried focusing on those thoughts that brought her to life. It had started with the desperation of loneliness. Then that hunger for a friend would grow into something more. Anticipation of their short time together. Excitement for their adventures. A warmth that filled his heart, like when he thought of his mum. Sweat trickled down his cheeks, and he gasped, opening his eyes. The clay in his hand radiated that same, living warmth Ada did. He knelt and gently pressed it into her back, her arms, and her legs. It was harder to mold her shape without more time or the sticks he used as tools, and his large fingers fumbled awkwardly.

  “That tickles,” she giggled.

  “Oh,” he said with a grin. “You’re ticklish now?”

  She laughed and pulled away as he poked her side once more.

  “It’s not like it was,” he said. “But you’re patched up.”

  “I feel better,” Ada said, turning around. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, rubbing the remaining clay off on his coarse pants. It immediately turned to ash as his magic dissipated, and Clod patted it away.

  “Do we still have enough time to see the town?” he asked.

  Her face scrunched cutely, and she looked up at the sky in concentration. “I think we have even more time.”

  “Huh,” he said, scratching his cheek.

  “Let’s goooo!” she said excitedly.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  He led slowly, letting her tiny legs set the pace, and being oh-so-careful with her underfoot. His heart still hurt that he’d damaged her, and he couldn’t bear for it to happen again. Ada may have forgiven him for what he’d done, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

  Fifteen minutes later, they broached the edge of the woods, where the path to his home met a cobblestone sidewalk. Ada gasped, gripping his pants as she reeled at the sight. Clod reveled in being able to introduce his friend to something new.

  “Welcome to Durgoon,” he said with a bow and a flourish.