The Wicker King

by K. Ancrum

  Afterward, he’d take her out for ice cream and tacos. Then they’d split and he’d go home to his empty bed.

  He would dream of tattoos, piercings, and warm thighs and try to decide if it was worth giving them up just to avoid the punches.

  GRIDLOCK

  August usually ate lunch with Alexandria Von Fredriech, Gordie, and the twins.

  Alex was brilliant. She was extremely condescending, but useful if you needed practical advice or someone to critique your papers. She was short and round and covered in freckles. Gordie was a riot grrrl with a shaved head, stomping boots, and suspenders. She was pretty, but very, very agro.

  Then, there were the twins. They were odd. They preferred to communicate in glances and gestures, finished each other’s sentences, and generally reveled in being really creepy. They liked to dress alike and were difficult to tell apart, but one was definitely meaner than the other. One of them was named Roger and the other one, the meaner one, was Peter. But everyone just called them “the twins,” because why bother with separate names if they were literally never apart from each other?

  Once, August even caught one waiting outside a bathroom stall for the other. Just leaning against the wall and looking annoyed.

  He couldn’t really remember when they’d decided that hanging out with him, Gordie, and Alex was all right. They just sort of showed up one day and no one told them to leave.

  DIAMOND

  “I’ve been looking for you all fucking day.” Jack sat down at August’s lunch table. The light caught on his dirty-blond hair.

  Alex, the twins, Gordie, and mostly everyone in the vicinity turned to gape at him. Jocks didn’t really go into this section of the lunchroom. Much less actually sit down.

  “Why are you here?” Alex demanded.

  Jack ignored her. “I found out where Rina works.”

  “This couldn’t have waited until after school? Also, that’s more than a little creepy,” August said, popping a french fry into his mouth.

  “I didn’t actually go looking for her, asshole. I saw her in her uniform going into a diner.” Jack crossed his arms triumphantly.

  August jutted out his square jaw but didn’t say a word.

  “She’s a waitress,” Jack crowed.

  Alex looked up from her books. “Who are you guys talking about?”

  “Rina Medina. She used to go to school here. She’s a poet, and a waitress, too, apparently. I thought she might have been a dancer of some sort with what she was wearing when I saw her.”

  “I don’t care what girls wear or where they work, Jack. That’s their business,” August replied. “And I’m pretty sure that having any job is better than nothing.”

  Gordie slung her arm around his shoulders and kissed him sloppily on the cheek.

  “You’re going to make someone a good husband someday,” she said.

  “If he doesn’t go to jail on distribution charges,” Alex snorted, cutting her hamburger in half with a flourish.

  “I say we go and see her at work,” Jack said.

  “No. I don’t want to stalk anyone, Jack. Go back to your table.”

  Jack stood up and backed away, shooting at August annoyingly with finger guns.

  “Whatever, man. It’s happening.”

  FLEECE

  “Why do you want this so much?” August stirred the pasta sauce a couple of times, then added a bit of salt.

  Jack didn’t answer until August was finished making dinner.

  “I just want a new friend. But, like, a cool secret friend that we can be with after school…”

  “You getting tired of me already?” August joked.

  “I’m pretty sure without you, I’d starve to death and never finish my homework. So, you’re kind of nonnegotiable, to be completely honest,” Jack said as August put a plate down in front of him.

  “Well, that’s reassuring. Nice to know I’m your chef/dad.”

  “Be thankful you don’t have to go to parent-teacher conferences.” Jack winked at him.

  “Honestly, the only reason I think your parents are ever around for those is because it’s the only way to keep Child Protective Services away,” August remarked snidely.

  Jack frowned. His parents were consultants and rarely took time off from traveling for their jobs. It was a sore subject for him, but it just made August angry.

  “Also, we’re not going to Rina’s job,” August declared, picking up the pepper and brandishing it threateningly

  “You say that, but it’s still happening.”

  He shook the pepper vigorously all over Jack’s food until Jack smacked the container clean out of his hand and across the room.

  BITE

  August sat grumpily in the back of the car. This was horrible. You don’t bother people at work. You just don’t.

  “Stop scowling.”

  “You can’t even see my face.”

  “I know you’re doing it anyway,” Jack snapped. “I can feel you glaring at the back of my neck.”

  August had been looking at Jack’s neck. The part where his head had been buzzed was growing back now, and starting to curl. August sighed loudly and sunk even farther down in his seat. “What do you plan for us to do when we get there?”

  “It’s a diner, August. We order something. It’s not that hard. Then maybe we’ll wait for her to get off her shift and we can hang out or whatever.”

  “You’re the worst at this.” August stuck his finger through the hole in the headrest and poked at the back of Jack’s neck. “You’re lucky you didn’t have to work that hard to get Carrie-Anne to like you.”

  “I am lucky. Thank you for noticing.” Jack grabbed August’s finger and pulled viciously until August snatched his hand back.

  SKILLET

  It went poorly. As expected.

  There was a reason August liked mean girls—they were never boring.

  Rina had been assigned to their table by some horrifying twist of fate. And, based on the quantity of coffee she’d accidentally spilled on Jack’s legs, she wasn’t pleased about being followed.

  August apologized profusely and wound up giving her more than three times regular tip just to buy himself back into her good graces. But the second Rina’s manager was out of sight, she pinched Jack’s ear and dragged him to the door. August followed sullenly.

  “Don’t you ever do anything like this again. Respect me and my space,” she hissed.

  “God, fuck. That fucking hurts. I swear I’ll make it up to you. Do you like cupcakes? I’ll bring you cupcakes!” Jack cried. He might have been all ropy muscle, but he was hunched over in Rina’s grasp.

  Rina shut the diner door in his face.

  THE DARK AND THE DEEP

  August smacked Jack on the back of the head as soon as they got in the car.

  “Oh jeez. It wasn’t that bad,” Jack insisted.

  “I can’t even talk to you about this right now. Take me home,” he demanded.

  Jack grumbled, but he started the car. They drove in silence all the way to August’s house. Jack kept his hands clutched tightly on the steering wheel as they pulled into the driveway.

  “I’ll see you later,” August said. He opened the door and stepped out.

  “Do you … do you have to go?” Jack asked quietly. “It’s a Friday night…”

  August just stood silently, door wide open. “I should say no to you,” he said after some time.

  Jack waited.

  Finally, August got back in the car.

  BOLD

  Jack took them to the woods.

  When they got out of the car, August put his hand on the back of Jack’s neck and rubbed his thumb gently on the top of his spine. Jack was a few inches shorter, but he never seemed it. He was always so big, so bold.

  “I’m not mad.” August said. “I just … don’t like … being a burden on somebody.”

  Jack didn’t look at him. He let the words hang in the air awhile, then he began to walk.

  And like
always, August followed him.

  STEEL

  Jack liked tinkering.

  He made little machines and sculptures and collected interesting parts. And though he looked like a jock, he was definitely more of an intellectual than August could claim to be. He spent a lot of time at the library and was thinking about going into engineering.

  It wasn’t something a lot of people knew about him. Just his teachers, his parents, and August, probably.

  August would sometimes break into the toy factory and go exploring alone. Bring back oddities that he would slip surreptitiously onto the ledge of Jack’s bedroom window.

  Like a gift.

  Or a tribute.

  THE ARCHITECT

  August was eating lunch alone on the bleachers. He was trying to get through Rand’s The Fountainhead, but that prospect was looking bleak.

  He was already two hundred pages in, but there was no character development and he didn’t like a single character anyway. He was mostly reading it just to be able to say he did. You’d be surprised how many people did that with the classics.

  But what was most terrible was the sound of Carrie-Anne sitting down next to him, uninvited. He side-eyed her and frowned.

  “Jack is sick because you took him wandering in the woods,” she said frostily.

  August rolled his eyes. “He’s the one who took me into the woods. Either he straight-up lied, or your relationship has communication issues. You might want to look into that.”

  Carrie-Anne folded her arms. “How am I supposed to enjoy my boyfriend when he’s always with you or damaged in some way because of you? You’re really irresponsible.”

  “One: I’m not his mom. I don’t have to take care of anyone but myself. And two: Your relationship problems are not my problems.” August closed his book and turned to face her. “So please stay away from me. I’m busy.” He got up and walked down the bleachers away from her.

  “Busy doing what? Selling drugs?” she shot back.

  “Bite me!” he shouted.

  ASSEMBLY LINE

  Actually, he was going to do just that. It wasn’t very hard, and a tall, skinny dude like him was unassuming. Plus, he needed the money.

  He walked up to the senior lockers on the fifth floor and followed the instructions to locker 0365. He tucked the small packet through the slit and then made his way down to the third floor.

  He passed by a sophomore who raised his hand to high-five him. They grasped hands and chest-bumped, and he felt the other boy slip the money into his pocket inconspicuously with the greeting.

  “Thanks, man. See you later.”

  August nodded and smiled.

  Then he went into the bathroom to cut the cash: 30 percent for him and 70 percent for Daliah. It was a good deal. He generally got a higher percentage than most other runners because he moved the most material. And he was reliable, never siphoned off his supply, and most important, he never got caught.

  He found Daliah on his way down the hall from the bathroom and pulled her into a dark corner. He kissed her hard, tucking the cash between her tits.

  “Thank you, August,” she said in her curiously deep voice.

  “No problem,” he replied, sounding cooler than he felt.

  She pinched his cheek lightly. “You’re such a good boy.”

  THRUSH

  August snuck away from school during lunch and walked to the bank. He liked this new teller a lot more than the one who’d worked there last year. This one smiled politely when she saw him and never asked any questions—like why he wasn’t at school or where all of this money was coming from. She didn’t ask why he was coming to pay the bills instead of his mom. And she didn’t make a face when he came in with a disability check or a check with his father’s name on it.

  She just processed his transaction, just like she would for any other customer.

  He tossed what he’d earned this week from Daliah on the counter, and the teller collected it. She gave him a printout of his family’s accounts and told him to have a nice day. Like a super-polite automaton. Like she didn’t care who he was.

  And God, like every single time, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  ROMULUS

  “I haven’t seen Dad in a week and Mom’s away on business,” Jack said as they walked into August’s house.

  “Fine. Let me tell my mom you’re here. MOM!” August called down the stairs to the basement. “JACK’S OVER!”

  “WHAT?” she called back.

  “NEVER MIND, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. I’LL TAKE CARE OF IT.” He turned to Jack and pushed him toward the bathroom. “Go take a cold bath. I’ll fix you something to eat.”

  A half hour and one boiled can of soup later, August went up to his room to fork over the goods and found Jack curled in his bed almost against the wall, dressed in his clothes.

  “Oh my God. Get out of my bed. I’ll blow up the air mattress or something,” he griped, setting the bowl down hard on his nightstand.

  “I’ve done worse. There’s plenty of room,” Jack said, muffled by the comforter. “Just get in.”

  August did, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “This is the gayest thing I’ve ever done,” he said darkly.

  Jack snorted. “No. It’s not. Remember in fourth grade, when Danny Sader let you—”

  “I will literally throw you out the window.”

  Jack sniffled. August handed him a tissue and waited for him to finish blowing his nose.

  “Stob bitchig,” he said quietly. “You’re basically like my brudder. Iss nod a big deal.”

  August thought about that awhile. “Yeah,” he finally replied, but Jack was already asleep.

  GROUP PROJECTS

  “… So, I just told Mrs. Peppin that Jeremy didn’t adequately participate in the project and, therefore, he should forfeit a percentage of the credit.”

  “Alex,” August groaned, “you can’t just say a guy doesn’t do work because he’s stupid and what he contributed wasn’t up to your caliber.”

  “Well, why not?”

  “Because it’s ridiculous!” Gordie interjected. “You’re acting like he didn’t even try.”

  “Agreed,” August said, twirling his spaghetti around his spork. “You’ve got to work on being less critical, Alex. One day, you’re going to piss off too many lab partners. They’ll form a mob and burn you at the stake using all the papers you’ve ever aced as kindling.”

  Alex snorted in dismissal and continued neatly cutting her pizza with a fork and knife.

  The twins furrowed their brows at her in disapproval. Simultaneously.

  “I just don’t know why I couldn’t have worked with one of you on the project instead of one of those average cretins,” Alex said, waving her knife with a flourish.

  Peter mock-shot Roger in the face with his index finger, and Roger slumped onto the table.

  “I’m not that hard to work with.” Alex sniffed.

  “YES YOU ARE,” the entire table, and several people nearby, said loudly in unison.

  RED VELVET, WITH BUTTERCREAM ICING

  August came home one night and Jack was in his kitchen wearing only his boxers and an apron, stirring something vigorously in a mixing bowl. After a lot of screaming and apologizing, Jack admitted that he was borrowing August’s kitchen and supplies to make the cupcakes he’d promised Rina on their last ill-fated visit, in preparation for making yet another ill-fated visit sometime later that week.

  A visit that he would be making whether August came along or not. Now that Jack had mostly recovered from their romp in the woods, he was super adamant about going back to bother Rina.

  There was some tense staring and indignant arm crossing, but eventually August caved. He wasn’t completely comfortable letting his best friend get savaged and left to bleed in an alley just to prove a point.

  At least not this time.

  DO YOU?

  “Do you remember that game we used to play when we were kids? The Two Kings?” Jack asked sudden
ly.

  “Of course,” August said, looking up from his book. “Why?”

  Jack picked at the library’s carpet and looked away.

  He did things like this often.

  Checked to see if his memories were real.

  August had asked him about it once, and he’d said it was kind of like going through a box of photographs. Jack couldn’t describe it very well for him, so August never truly understood. All he knew was that when Jack asked him to confirm a memory, he should do so as quickly as possible so the tension could fall from Jack’s shoulders and the knot between his brows could come free.

  Sometimes, if he really wanted to please him, August would elaborate on what he remembered. Illustrate it so Jack could be completely certain that it did, in fact, happen.

  “I remember the attic of your house. The way the sun shone gold through the slats in the windows. The dust on the floor and the crowns we wore. I remember your throne, the Wicker Throne, and mine, the Wooden Throne. I remember sitting on them, hands clasped between us. You were always the better king.”

  Jack snorted. “I was hyperactive and annoying.”

  August just grinned. “You spent a week building me a crown of sticks and wire, even though yours was bits of wicker hot-glued to a stretchy headband. Do you still have them?”

  Jack shook his head. “The neighbor’s cat got mine and chewed it up ages ago. But I still have yours.”

  “Can I have it?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m saving it for something.”

  RICKET

  August hadn’t thought about that in years. He turned over in bed and looked out the window at the night sky. The last time they’d played that game, it was dusk. The red sun had made the trees of the wild wood look black with shadows.