Diamond Heart

by M. A. Hinkle

  Felix tossed his head, looking toward the stage instead of me. “What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence: I have forsworn his bed and company.” But he was still angled toward me, and he didn’t move away when I took a step toward him.

  “Tarry, rash wanton. Am not I thy lord?” I held out my hand.

  I didn’t expect him to take it—but he did. As if it was nothing. His hand was delicate and small, callused from playing instruments.

  I tugged him closer, making sure to leave room for Jesus as I put one hand on his back, beneath the bottom of his ribs. He put his hand on my shoulder blades, maintaining the same set expression.

  “Now watch my feet,” I said, keeping my voice too low to carry, “and then say your lines.” I hadn’t done this in years, but something about Felix made it easy to remember: feet together, two quick steps, feet back together.

  I could tell by his posture he’d never had a formal dance class, but he didn’t trip over himself either, and when we moved back to the beginning position, he recited Titania’s speech about the changeling. He paused a few times at the fast parts, but it sounded natural, and he kept his eyes fixed on my face the entire time, his chin lifted as if he was waiting for me to stop and pin him against a wall.

  I answered him back without thinking—the words felt real, not something written hundreds of years ago. “Do you amend it then? It lies in you.” But, rather than repeat the pattern of steps, I raised our joined hands so I could step around him, putting my free hand on his side so we were dancing the same moves with him in front of me. I tilted my head to whisper in his ear, though I kept projecting. “Why should Titania cross her Oberon?” We danced that way for one measure. Then I raised our hands again; he got the hint and turned back to face me. “I do but beg a little changeling boy to be my henchman.”

  Now, Felix moved more smoothly with me. Though his eyes were averted as he recited Titania’s argument for her custody of the child, pretending not to care, he moved closer on the close parts and farther away on the far parts.

  “How long within this wood intend you stay?” I cued him for a spin out and pulled him back in.

  Felix tossed his head again. “Perchance, till after Theseus’ wedding day.”

  I cued him for a dip. He went willingly. I appreciated his trust. With the situation reversed, I would not have given me a chance.

  At the bottom of the dip, I leaned forward so our faces were only inches apart. My hair fell in front of my face, hiding the two of us from everyone else, just for a moment. And in that moment, Felix flashed me a bright, giddy smile, as though he knew how goddamn good this was.

  When he smiled—really smiled—the whole world stopped to look. How could it not?

  I straightened, quickly, guiding him with my hand on the small of his back. “Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.” The words came out faster, stumbling, and I almost flubbed my steps.

  Felix put both hands on my chest and pushed me away. “Not for thy fairy kingdom,” he said between clenched teeth, breathing hard for effect. Then he threw his head back. “Fairies, away! We shall chide downright if I longer stay.”

  The applause from the teacher surprised me, and Felix’s friends were making a fuss again. I could hardly hear them over the pounding of my heart. What the fuck?

  “Very good, boys,” said Miss Copeland, still clapping. “Very, very good!”

  I bolted back to Morgan. I could claim I wasn’t running away with my tail between my legs, but—I’d enjoyed playing off Felix and the way he played off of me. And the way he peered up at me—

  Nope. Big old pile of nope.

  I flopped next to Morgan and tried to work myself up to a scowl, but it didn’t work. No one yelped in terror.

  When I was certain I could talk in regular cadence, not iambic pentameter, I turned to Morgan. “You wanna go?”

  He glanced toward the stage, where Felix and his friends were talking. Felix appeared more dazed than usual. Then Morgan nodded. “I already texted Carl.”

  I nodded back, and we did our best to sneak out even though we had to walk in front of everyone since there was no back door.

  We waited for Carl on the front steps. I did not want to discuss the auditions, and I assumed Morgan had tired himself out with all the talking. But Morgan set his chin on his hands, thoughtful. “I thought it would be a lot worse.”

  Now, that might not sound like a ringing endorsement, but from Morgan, it was a goddamn revelation, which…was a problem.

  I stared straight ahead because I didn’t want him scrutinizing my face. Morgan was the only person who knew the front I put up was a front, but he was also used to me grousing through the activities our mom chose for us, everything from martial arts (which lasted until I made another kid cry) to cleaning up highways (where I got kicked out for swearing in a church group).

  “I guess it was okay.” I rested my hands behind my head and slouched—everything short of putting my hood up to indicate I was bored as hell and did not ever want to do it again, because I was afraid my real feelings would spill out all over the place now we had a moment alone. “But I’m not volunteering. If you get cast, you’re on your own.”

  I expected Morgan to grimace, but he shrugged. “I think you did well. I was surprised. You tried.”

  “Did not! I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself, but I don’t think this will be happy fun times either.”

  Morgan continued to ignore me. “And what you said to Father the other day was true, too. If you go through with this, he’ll appreciate it. Shakespeare’s about the only thing he enjoys without translation from Welsh or Ancient Germanic.”

  “Watch it, Morgan, you were almost critical there.” I huffed. “Anyway, all the other kids were good too, so it won’t matter.”

  AS IT TURNED out, it did matter because karma is a bitch. I made a big show of only checking the cast list because Morgan couldn’t go by himself. Never mind how, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t smother my curiosity. I wanted to know if anyone else had noticed the electricity in the air.

  Felix and his friends were already crowded around the board—and I did mean crowded. The four of them took up a lot of space. Morgan hung back, so it was my job to get them to move. I cleared my throat. The triplets minus one glanced at me, and their expressions flattened out into an “oh, it’s you” scowl I was familiar with. I grinned, showing all my teeth.

  Sarah grabbed Felix by the scruff of his neck and tugged him away from the board. “It’s you guys!” said Felix. He didn’t seem upset. Rather, he grabbed onto Sarah.

  Morgan nodded, and we stepped forward together to study the list.

  I had a bad feeling the second I saw Morgan’s name at the top of the list for Theseus. And. Yep. There was my name. Next to Oberon. Felix’s was right below it, as Titania.

  “I guess Miss Copeland thought your idea for Theseus and Hippolyta was cool,” said Felix tentatively. He still hadn’t realized Morgan would rather walk off a cliff than interrupt anyone. “She was talking about it the other day in my drama class.”

  Of course he was in drama class.

  Morgan shrugged. He was not going to get anything out, so I grabbed his elbow and dragged him away. This was stupid for two reasons. A) I was dragging him toward the auditorium, not the front entrance to the school where Carl would be waiting. B) By dragging, I indicated I was displeased.

  Once we were out of sight, Morgan shook off my hold. “What is wrong with you?”

  “What do you think?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “This backfired, and in spectacular goddamn fashion.”

  “How did it backfire? Father’s going to be thrilled.”

  “Because—” Because I’m trying to fix you up, only I didn’t say it. I’d fuck up and we’d fight and I’d be no closer to my goal of making Morgan not hate me anymore. Also, if Morgan hadn’t figured it out yet, he wasn’t going to. If I told him, he would trip all over himself the next time he talked to Felix, and Felix would turn into a sad-looki
ng blobfish, and I’d have to engineer some Free Willy bullshit to get him back to the ocean.

  I tossed my head. “Because it’s going to be a lot of goddamn work, and this is just another chance for me to get expelled.”

  “Or it could be a chance to get a teacher on your side for once. Miss Copeland got a kick out of you.” Morgan didn’t usually have an answer for me, not when we weren’t in a sealed bunker. And especially not when I was being a cynical jerk.

  “Anybody sounds good when they’re reciting words written five hundred years ago. Using my own words gets me in trouble.”

  “So don’t use your own words.”

  I squinted at him. “Wait…do you want to do this?” Morgan turned his head away. “You do. Did you get replaced with a pod person? Is this place actually working?” I didn’t mean to sound sharp, but I wanted to kick dirt over my feelings and move on, and he wasn’t letting me.

  Morgan hunched up his shoulders, though he didn’t try to pull farther away because I would follow him. “I—” He swallowed. “I thought I wouldn’t take to it, and I was only doing it for Father. But I had fun.”

  I retreated, looking him up and down. He meant it, so I had to take a different tack. Jokes, not feelings. “The fuck did you do with my brother? Next thing you know, you’ll be making small talk at parties. Sitting next to strangers on the bus. Calling customer service on the phone. I’m getting chills just thinking about it.” I fanned myself, doing my best imitation of a Victorian woman on a fainting couch.

  Morgan rolled his eyes. “Now you’re being an ass.” But he was pleased.

  “Never claimed to be anything else.” I leaned back on my heels. “Look, okay, fine. I’m glad this place—” I gestured around at the school. “—with its diverse collection of teenagers in every color of the rainbow is having a good effect on you. But if you want this to go well, I have to back out, because I break everything.”

  Morgan studied me. Then he shrugged. “To be honest, I’m glad you went along with it this far. If you want to drop out, we can tell Father you didn’t get cast and go from there.”

  “That’s it? No, ‘please, Gareth, there’s no goddamn way I can face other people by myself?’” It was supposed to be another joke, but it came out—weird. Wasn’t it true?

  “I already knew a lot of people at the audition from orchestra. And it’ll be good for me.” He sounded like he was ordering his last meal before his date with the electric chair, but he wasn’t lying.

  Well, great. I couldn’t fight this anymore. “Cool, I guess. I’m gonna track the teacher down, then. Don’t wait up for me. I’m walking home.”

  “Suit yourself. Just don’t make it one of those walks where you pick a fight with some drunk homophobes.”

  I scowled at him. “It happened one time.”

  “And once was enough.”

  I stalked off around the corner before Morgan could lecture me some more. Even though I deserved it.

  I wasn’t paying attention, so of course I bumped into Felix, who was propped against the wall on the other side. I was going to apologize—well, try—but Felix spoke first.

  “You’re really going to drop out?”

  “You heard?” I wasn’t even mad. If I didn’t want people to know my innermost thoughts, I wouldn’t go shouting them all over the place.

  Felix nodded, his ears turning red. “I’m sorry I eavesdropped. I was trying to catch up ’cause Morgan left his violin case behind, and then you guys were fighting—” He held up the case for evidence.

  “Shit, he’s going to freak out.” I took it from him and set it down. “I should text him.” I dug my phone out, unsurprised to see he’d already texted me.

  Do you have my violin?

  Relatively measured and calm, but he was freaking out. I’ve got it.

  After sending, I glanced up. “Wait, you thought we were fighting?” I said, squinting at Felix.

  “Well. Uh. You were swearing at him and stuff.”

  “I swear at everything. And, anyway, swearing doesn’t mean fighting. I just have a poor vocabulary.” My phone buzzed again: a single thumbs-up from Morgan. I thought about texting him to say I wasn’t going to smash it, but I knew better than to joke about it. “There, Morgan knows I have it, so your mission is complete. Hurry back home before your friends think I ate you.”

  “That is not what I wanted to talk to you about. Ugh, I’m so all over the place today.” He let out a forceful breath through his nose. “The point is—you really aren’t going to do the play?”

  “What, you’re going to complain? I thought you’d be skipping.”

  “For one thing, Miss Copeland will give Oberon to Evie, and she’s so cool I cannot talk to her. For another—” He fidgeted. I was beginning to understand this meant he wanted to say something but was too embarrassed.

  “For another, you want to make nice with my brother, and you have no idea how when he’s not playing your husband.”

  Felix rubbed his ear but didn’t disagree with me. “Well—I mean—you can make friends. The triplets minus one are all in the play, and Sarah’s the stage manager because she’s good at corralling people. And Miss Copeland is nice. And—” He tipped his head back. “There are other reasons, but I’m bad at thinking of things under pressure.”

  I crossed my arms, frowning at the senior portraits on the far wall so I wouldn’t glare at him.

  “Anyway, I don’t know. I kind of thought you enjoyed it. Because I had a good time. Although it doesn’t mean much because I always have a good time, but—”

  “Are you still talking?” I glanced back at him. He didn’t jump, so I assumed I wasn’t glaring. Much. Between him and Morgan, I was running out of excuses. I wanted this. Goddammit.

  Felix hunched up his shoulders. “Sorry, I babble when I’m nervous. Actually, I babble all the time.”

  “I noticed.” He didn’t know the whole story. Maybe he’d agree if he did. “Look, here’s the thing. I have a hard enough time not getting myself suspended during eight hours in school, including lunch and study hall. Adding another couple hours isn’t the brightest plan.”

  “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. Anyway, I said I’d help you with your brother, and it’s a lot easier when we’re in the same room. I’m not good at interrupting conflict, but I am pretty good at interrupting in general, so I think it’ll work out. I guess I think everything’s going to work out, but—this thing in particular. It’s gonna be great.”

  I tipped my head back, glaring at the ceiling now because it wasn’t covered in forty-year-old photographs featuring high schoolers with identical creepy grins.

  Really, it didn’t matter what he or Morgan said. As usual, I was the one holding myself back.

  “I’ll go through with it. But it’s your fault, you know.”

  Felix screwed up his face, as if trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.

  “For coming up with the dance idea. I’m good at dancing. But you’re going to need a lot of work to do it on stage.”

  Felix’s face lit up. I’d always thought it was an expression, but nope. When Felix smiled, birds sang, rainbows spread across the sky, unicorns farted. “Awesome!”

  If I kept my eyes on his smile, I was going to say something dumb to force him to stop. “I’d better go. Having this around makes me nervous.” I picked up Morgan’s violin.

  Felix took a small step back. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

  I made it halfway down the hallway before Felix came tearing after me. “Hey, wait, I had one more thing.”

  I didn’t stop walking, though I did turn to face him.

  “Uh—so the triplets minus one were telling me there’s a ninety-nine percent chance of a Cameron James concert after the first rehearsal, and they’re pretty sure they know where it’s gonna be. Did you and your brother want to come?”

  “Who’s Cameron James?”

  Felix stopped short and almost fell over. “Cameron James Jackson? Only
he goes by Cameron James? You cannot be serious.”

  “Felix, I have never heard what kind of music you listen to, but I can already tell you our tastes do not overlap.”

  “Everyone loves Cameron James.” Felix’s jaw dropped. “Everyone. Just—just wait.” He pulled out his phone and flipped through it. “I wish this was at my house because I have actual speakers. But he’s amazing, and just—listen. This is the greatest thing in the history of ever.”

  Before I could point out how wrong he was, Felix hit play. The song started with a guitar riff I could only describe as astounding, and then the singer came in with a range that should not have been physically possible.

  And. Yeah. It was the best thing ever, even over tinny phone speakers in a high school hallway.

  Felix was enraptured. He had his eyes closed and his head tipped back. Then he started singing along. Felix and Cameron James sounded nothing alike; Felix’s voice was higher and less forceful. But they sounded so good together.

  I wanted to say something stupid and ruin the moment. I really did. But for once in my life, I was speechless.

  Felix didn’t open his eyes until the song finished, so I had time to pick my jaw up off the floor. “Sorry, I know it’s annoying when I sing along. But it’s the best.”

  I shook my head, trying not to admit I wanted him to sing the entire thing again a cappella. How had I thought his voice was nothing special?

  Because then I’d hit rock bottom but hadn’t started digging.

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, it’s good, but there’s one big problem.” Felix blinked; he was still caught up in the music, which might have been charming if I wasn’t determined not to be charmed. “Morgan would die at a concert. Have you not noticed people are not his strong point?”

  “Well, but—” Felix rocked back on his heels. “This is music. It’s different. I don’t appreciate being in large crowds of people either ’cause then I get pushed around, but I actually moshed at a Cameron James concert. Someone kicked me in the face, and it was amazing. And this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—his gigs are a big secret, and there’s no guessing where he’ll come up next. Also, Morgan told me he loves Cameron James.”