The Wicker King

by K. Ancrum

  JAAN

  “It was creepy,” August said, leaning his head back against the couch.

  Rina clucked her tongue disapprovingly and continued running her fingers through his hair.

  “I mean, normally Carrie-Anne wouldn’t be caught dead near someone like Gordie. They’re diametrically opposed. The only thing they have in common is that they both hate me.”

  “Also, Gordie was your … girlfriend—for lack of a better word. And Carrie-Anne was Jack’s.”

  August thought for a moment. “Well, yeah. That doesn’t make me feel better about them striking up a new hate-based companionship.”

  Rina squeezed his shoulders between her knees. “You’re bad for girls, August. You’re so pretty and smart and devastatingly mysterious, but you really don’t care about anything outside of several very specific people. None of which include your woman du jour. Sometimes girls just like to decompress and gossip about boys they’ve dated. Especially if they feel slighted somehow. Give them some slack and let them have their fun. I’d be pissed, too.”

  “You think I’m pretty?” August asked, grinning. He tried to twist and look at her, but Rina grabbed his head and covered his eyes.

  “Ugh. If your head swelled any more you wouldn’t fit through doorways. Stop smiling, sanam, and go turn off the kettle. The tea should be ready.”

  His heart thrummed and swelled.

  CICERO

  Jack got there about a half hour later. He nearly tripped over the doorstop, but he caught himself and carried on. He was starting to get bruises all over from bumping into things he couldn’t see.

  He didn’t bother to hide them. He didn’t care.

  “Oh my God, you would not believe the day I’ve had. I just want to sleep forever,” Jack said, tossing his backpack next to the couch. He toed off his Chucks and collapsed to the floor, curling up next to August’s knees.

  “I’d like some mashed potatoes and a massage.” He pouted.

  “We all have wishes,” August said absentmindedly. He’d decided not to tell Jack about Gordie and Carrie-Anne. There was already enough to worry about.

  “You look thinner,” Jack said suddenly.

  August shrugged.

  “You need to eat.”

  “I do. I’m just stressed out. Don’t worry about it.”

  GLOOM

  Rina got back from work late. She closed the door softly behind her. August gazed wordlessly at her silhouette in the yellow light of the landing. She put her purse and jacket in the coat closet and kicked off her sparkly heels.

  Jack breathed softly in his sleep.

  Rina turned and saw them. Sitting, tangled. She padded across the carpet.

  Rina and August locked eyes.

  Jack whimpered, beginning to wake up, and August instinctively pulled him closer. He didn’t break his gaze, challenging her to say anything about it. Rina tilted her head to the side in contemplation and looked at them. Then, after a while, as if coming to some grand conclusion, she leaned down and kissed Jack gently on the cheek. August watched her, his mind filled with static.

  Then Rina paused and leaned down to kiss him, too. Not on the cheek, like Jack had gotten, but full and real. Hungrily. Fingers plunging into his hair to hold him.

  Then she pulled away, went into her room, and closed the door.

  CRÈME

  “So, do you like her?”

  “Yeah, she gets me. Just like you said she would.”

  “Oh. Hmm…”

  “What? Didn’t you want this from the beginning?”

  “Yeah, I did … Are you going to start dating her?”

  August shrugged. “If that’s what she wants.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Is that what you want?” August shot back, laughing under his breath while he continued icing cupcakes. He’d been kidding—he hadn’t noticed Jack flinch like he’d been slapped. His back to his king, broad and vulnerable.

  “Do what you want. You know who you belong to.” If the look on his face was anything to go by, Jack clearly regretted his words the moment they fell out of his mouth.

  August put the spatula down and half turned to look at him. He smiled, always indulgent, even in the face of Jack’s petulance. “Yeah. I know.”

  FAIR

  They fell into each other.

  Five months ago, he probably would have been too nervous and overthought the entire thing. But now, all August could think about was the red smeared across her mouth and the delicate curve of her neck. He didn’t have room for anything else.

  Rina Medina, Queen of the Desert. Queen of the place between dishpan hands and Louboutins.

  He fucked her hard.

  She didn’t ask for more.

  It was weird, but it made him want to give her things. It made him want to cover her in diamonds. It made him want to work until he could afford to put her in a palace. It made him want to steal her away like a priceless work of art. It made him want to be selfish.

  He never wanted to leave this little shack she called a home.

  LINEN

  Rina lay next to him as he smoked and stared out the window. She drummed her fingers restlessly on his knee.

  “Sometimes,” she said, “I get a craving for something. Something expensive or hard to find, like truffles. If I can’t get them, I try for the next best thing. M&M’S, Snickers. Whatever. But no matter how much I have, it doesn’t quite hit the spot…” She gazed over at him. “I don’t mind being that for you.”

  “You’re not. I don’t know what you mean,” August replied. “I try not to crave things I can’t afford.”

  “You are a world-class liar, August Bateman. Every inch of you craves things you can’t afford … or don’t feel like you’re allowed to have.”

  “Why are you being so vague?” he said impatiently. “Just tell me what you want to tell me, Rina. If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask.”

  She looked at him like he was mind-numbingly stupid. “Can’t you see that’s what I’m trying to tell you? I don’t want anything from you. I never did. You were breaking his heart and the only thing that helped is watching you be happy. And I know that, and I’m okay with it. I’ve known it from the beginning. That’s the entire reason that you’re here.…”

  August understood all those sentences separately, but they made no sense together.

  “Why is this so confusing for you?” she asked. “What is wrong with you?”

  Before he could answer, the doorknob rattled and turned, and the door swung open.

  Jack stood there, filling up the doorway awkwardly. His eyes flicked over them, taking in Rina, who stared back at him boldly—nipples taut, hair loose and dark around her shoulders. He glanced for a second at the lighter in August’s hand. Jack looked exhausted and like he was an instant away from bolting.

  “Shh. Come here,” August said quietly. Jack hesitated. “It’s okay.” August moved over and made space for him.

  Jack glanced at Rina nervously as he crept into her bed, his sandy, cropped hair sticking up at odd angles. August took one last drag of his cigarette, then reached over Jack to put it out in the tray by the bed.

  “Are you okay? Did anything happen?” Rina asked.

  “No. I just…” Jack looked embarrassed. “My head hurts.”

  “Do you want me to get some aspirin?” August started to get up, but Jack curled closer and closed his eyes.

  “No. No. I’m fine. Just don’t go anywhere.”

  STRAIN

  “You guys need to figure this out.” Rina got out of bed and started putting on her uniform.

  August sighed and continued running his hand over Jack’s head. Jack had fallen asleep shortly after arriving.

  “He’s always been odd. It doesn’t bother me. I’ve spent most of my life following him around, doing what he wants. So this isn’t new either, even with … everything. It’s just more dramatic.”

  “You love him.” It wasn’t said like
a question.

  August looked down at Jack’s sleeping face and frowned. “I’m responsible for him. And I owe him. Knowing that he’s okay is important to me. More important than anything else right now.”

  “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I don’t think that’s healthy.”

  “Probably not,” August said, but he didn’t stay his hand.

  SNAP

  Jack was sleeping over. He’d forgotten one of his textbooks back at his house, so August hopped on his bike to go pick it up. It started to rain on the way.

  August tossed his bike onto the lawn and went up to the door. He dug in his pocket for his keys, but something made him pause. Instead, he reached out and knocked.

  Jack’s father opened the door.

  August hadn’t seen this man in months. He looked just like Jack but older, more polished. He stood there in the doorway like he belonged there—like he was innocent—holding a glass of wine.

  “Hi, August. Have you seen Ja—”

  August punched him in the face. He hauled Jack’s father inside and smashed him against the wall, scrunching the older man’s sweater in his fists. “Where have you been, you son of a bitch?”

  “Let go of me!”

  “He waited for you. You’re his father. You’re his father! You’re supposed to be there for him.”

  “You can’t tell me how to raise my ch-child,” Jack’s father stammered. He had gray eyes like Jack’s.

  August let go of him in disgust and stepped back, throwing out his arms. “Oh yeah? And who do you think has been raising him while you were gone? This is bullshit and you know it. And Christmas? Christmas? You’re lucky I don’t smash your head open on the sidewalk.”

  Jack’s father slumped against the wall, staring at August in horror and rage. He clutched his bleeding nose with one hand, unsuccessfully trying to keep the blood from dripping on his shirt. “Get off my property or I’m calling the police,” he spat.

  August was already halfway up the walk. “We’ll be back for the rest of Jack’s shit in the morning.”

  SOVEREIGN

  August was so mad he was shaking. He tried to calm down before he got back home, but it just wasn’t working. He kept remembering that smug bastard’s face. Anger pounded in his head and blurred his vision.

  “Your dad is back.” August slammed the door open. “You’re moving in. We’re getting your stuff in the morning.”

  Jack looked up at him calmly. “What did you do?”

  “I fulfilled a promise.”

  There was a moment as Jack figured out what that meant. August waited. Water dripped from his hair and clothes and soaked into the carpet.

  They both breathed.

  Finally, the Wicker King rose and crossed the room.

  August sank to his knees before him. His fists were still tight and angry, ready on his thighs. He gritted his teeth, and again, he waited.

  A hand passed over his face, slicing through his hair for a bit, then ran past his ear to cup his jaw. August couldn’t remember when he’d closed his eyes, but the dark was deep and clear and sharp.

  “Well done.”

  It echoed in his bones like it had been spoken by giants, spoken by gods. Nothing could replace the glory of the Wicker King’s favor—the peace of returning from defending his honor. The phrases that ran through his mind were archaic and ridiculous and urgent and more real than anything he’d ever known.

  August tilted his head to brush his lips against his king’s hand, reaffirming his loyalty. The rage was gone now. It had served its purpose.

  “Look at you.”

  August opened his eyes and it was just Jack again, a boy without his crown. Staring down at him in something like wonder and something like fear.

  PILLOW

  August’s phone buzzed off the nightstand and fell to the floor. He slid off the bed and reached around blindly to pick it up. It was a text from Roger. August sighed loudly and flopped over, nearly elbowing Jack in the face.

  my mom is back from Prague. you should come by and see her

  did u tell her?

  He sent it quickly and rubbed his eyes. The prospect was sobering.

  “What are you doing? Why is it so bright?” Jack complained tiredly, burrowing closer to the wall.

  “Roger’s texting me. He wants me to meet their mom so I can talk to her about you.”

  no. I didn’t. I told you I wouldn’t but you should still come anyway. you haven’t been looking so great lately. you shouldn’t have to deal with this by yourself

  Jack turned over to watch what was going on.

  dnt worry abt me, roger

  “Roger’s worried about me,” August whispered.

  Jack smiled sleepily. “He’s nicer than he seems.”

  “Yeah.”

  just think about it

  noted. Thnx

  YOU’LL NEVER KNOW, DEAR

  Rina sat up suddenly. “I made you something.” She dashed into the kitchen, turned off the kettle quick, then ducked into her bedroom. August got up and began pouring their tea into mugs. He took one in each hand and settled down by the couch.

  She scampered into the room with one hand behind her back. “Close your eyes.”

  He did.

  Rina took their mugs from him and placed them neatly on the floor. Then she straddled him and made a place for herself on his lap. He put his hands on her hips and opened his eyes. She pressed a CD hard against the side of his face.

  “I didn’t say you could open them yet! You’re terrible at following instructions, August. Ugh. Anyway. Don’t laugh, but I made you a mixtape.”

  August kissed her knuckles, kissed her forehead, kissed her cheek, then kissed her mouth, rubbing his nose against hers, grinning. He plucked the CD from her hands and tossed it across the room toward his backpack.

  “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t know what music you liked and I was feeling cliché and sentimental.”

  “About little old me? We getting hitched now?” August tucked a finger under her bra strap and snapped it. Rina pinched him back.

  “Shut up. What’s your favorite song?” she asked, tugging his shirt over his head.

  “‘Gloria’ done by the great Patti Smith.”

  Rina crinkled her nose in distaste.

  “What’s Jack’s?”

  August smirked. “‘You Are My Sunshine.’”

  “Really? That’s so weird,” she squeaked as August ran his fingers like spiders up her sides. He began tickling her in earnest, grinding against her as she laughed and tried to pry off his jeans.

  “He’s weird. But let’s not talk about him right now.”

  ONE EIGHT-HUNDRED

  Roger began texting him every day. Usually it was some version of Are you okay? but sometimes he’d text things that made August laugh, like Peter hates red peppers. Made dinner and put them in anyway. Or weird questions like How did we all decide that clapping is a good way to let people understand appreciation with a nonverbal cue? and What is scarier, one large scary thing or many, many small scary things?

  August wasn’t nearly as comedic himself, and he usually just answered pretty straightforwardly. But it was fun.

  “You’re probably his first real friend outside of Peter,” Jack said.

  August closed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. “Well, there’s that, but I think he’s also checking up on me. He’s just being really casual about it.”

  Jack shrugged. “Why is that a bad thing? As long as he doesn’t tell, it will be fine. I’m pretty sure at this point, if they told anyone, I’d be taken away from my parents for, like, severe negligence or something. Keep texting him back.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  BLACK-BODY RADIATION

  August was sitting in the woods decompressing when the hairs suddenly rose on the back of his neck.

  “So. This is what you do when I’m not around.”

  August moved to try to hide the fire, kicking d
amp dirt and leaves over it. But Jack just laughed anyway and clapped him on the shoulder.

  “It’s okay, really. We all have our vices and secrets. What are you, a pyromaniac now?” Jack was smiling. It wasn’t a nice smile.

  “No, I just—”

  “You just like making small fires all over the woods every week? You’re not subtle, August. I figured it out pretty quickly. Is this how you get by with dealing with me and my little problem?”

  “No, that’s not what—”

  “Be quiet,” Jack said harshly. August fell silent. “I don’t … I can’t understand why you…” Jack covered his mouth, then crossed his arms as he tried to decide what to say.

  August couldn’t meet his eyes. The weight of Jack’s disappointment choked him.

  “Can you stop?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  Jack laughed again and shook his head. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

  FLY

  Jack stopped walking. He slid his hand over August’s arm, pulling him back from the trees in front of them.

  “What?”

  “Shh. It will hear you,” Jack breathed. August looked at the empty forest, then turned back and watched his friend instead.

  Jack’s nails bit into his skin. “Shit. Shit. It sees us. Fuck. RUN.” He bolted, dragging August along with him.

  They crashed through the forest toward the town, leaping over fallen trees and dodging branches. August’s arm slipped out of Jack’s grasp, but he charged on because Jack was clearly running for his life.

  “Come on, August. I can’t lose you, I can’t—” They were neck and neck now and August could just barely see the road through the trees. He slipped in the mud and fell hard.

  “No!” Jack roared. He leaped in the air and kicked off one of the trees, curling his arm around the trunk and spinning himself in a stunning feat of desperate athleticism. Changing trajectory completely, he sprinted to August and pulled him up.