Diamond Heart

by M. A. Hinkle

  “Am I seriously the only person who’s never heard of this guy?”

  “Well, he’s pretty underground, but he’s a super big deal here. Me seeing one of his concerts is the only cool thing about me.” Felix bit his lip. “So—will you ask him? ’Cause if we’re gonna make it, we’re gonna have to beat feet right after rehearsal. Well. Not literally. Sarah’s got a car. But still.”

  “I’ll ask him, but I’m gonna be honest with you—the chances are between zero and none, which is a positive estimate.” Sure, Morgan had said otherwise, but did I believe him? Well, put it this way. I wasn’t cashing in any lottery tickets, and not because I couldn’t buy them yet.

  “All you can do is ask. Thanks.” Felix’s phone buzzed. “Oh, crud, I should go. My dad’s picking me up today. Did you need a ride?”

  “Go.” I pointed down the hallway. “Before I tell you how dumb of a question that is.”

  Felix shrugged. “See you tomorrow!”

  It wasn’t even sarcastic.

  I’D MISSED DINNER, so I grabbed something from the pantry and went upstairs. Morgan was doing his history homework. I should have started mine, but instead, I put his violin case down and flopped on my bed.

  “You took a long time,” said Morgan, turning to face me. “Did you get lost?”

  I shook my head, keeping my eyes away. For once, I wasn’t worried I’d say something mean. Nah. I was afraid I’d tell him the truth. “I took the scenic route. Thought I’d catch up with the graffiti. Don’t worry, I was nice to your baby.”

  “I know you were,” said Morgan, even as he went to undo the latches and check on his violin. “I can’t believe I forgot it.”

  “Just goes to show you’re trying something new and exciting.” I managed to sound—nice, even though all these new things about him were confusing me.

  And. You know. I couldn’t get the image of Felix’s face as he sang out of my head.

  Morgan set his case over by his desk, out of range. “Did something happen? You told me you wouldn’t pick any fights.”

  “I was a good boy. I promise. Or as good as I am capable of being.” I put my hands behind my head. “Felix invited us to a concert. In other words, he invited you, and I am invited by proxy.”

  I didn’t have to see him to know Morgan had flinched at concert. “What kind?”

  “The Cameron James kind.”

  Morgan sucked in a breath, which confirmed he was, in fact, a fan of this guy. How had I missed the boat? Then again, as far as I was aware, Morgan’s top hits were all written in the 1700s. If it didn’t feature an extended harpsichord solo, it wasn’t his thing.

  Morgan walked over and peered down into my face. I stuck my tongue out at him, but he ignored me. “You’re being serious.” He groaned, pressing his hands against his face. “Why am I so awkward?”

  He was talking to himself, but I pushed myself up on my elbows anyway. “I told him you wouldn’t be interested.”

  “But I am interested.” He wasn’t looking at me, so he missed my disbelief. “Cameron James’s shows play in locations you can’t find except by word of mouth. By all accounts, his concerts are amazing.” Morgan sighed. “Not to mention I know this is the sort of thing I am supposed to relish as a seventeen-year-old. I should be capable of going to hear a singer I love with some people who are nice and enjoy myself, not have a panic attack just thinking about it.”

  He wasn’t actually having a panic attack, for the record. I’d witnessed Morgan have real panic attacks three times. They were scary, and I always had to find somewhere quiet to recover when he was done.

  At least his angst covered up the things I didn’t want to think about. “Look, Morgan, you’re already doing a lot. You shouldn’t be mad at yourself. And you shouldn’t push yourself too hard either. There’ll be another show.”

  Morgan shook his head, but he wasn’t disagreeing. “I want to push myself.” He got to his feet. “You know as well as I do how I’ve never had to try at anything. I’m…” He sat again, quickly. “I’m bored, Gar. And I’m… God, I’m so tired of telling myself no even though I know it’s the right answer. I don’t know why I always feel so wrong.” He pushed a hand up through his hair, staring at his feet.

  After a minute, I went to sit next to him. We weren’t usually the touchy-feely type—by which I meant I wasn’t the touchy-feely type. But still. I put a hand on his back, and he sighed.

  “Anyway,” he said, “you’re not being a jerk, which means I should try and not be such a mess.”

  Sometimes, I wished I was capable of real human connection. Then I could have told Morgan the truth about Felix—the whole truth.

  But…to be honest, I was pushing myself pretty far out of my own comfort zone. He had limits and so did I, and I couldn’t tell him to respect his without respecting mine. Even if they were bad limits. “Look, we haven’t even gotten through the first rehearsal yet. Let’s survive it, and then we’ll see how you feel, okay?”

  Morgan nodded. “You’re right. I keep telling myself I am not going to spend the entire rehearsal in the bathroom, but who knows.”

  “To be fair, the bathrooms are really nice.”

  Morgan shook his head, but not at me. “One thing at a time.”

  Act Three: Love Looks Not With the Eyes, but With the Mind, So I Need to Schedule a Lobotomy

  FIXING MY RELATIONSHIP with Morgan started with avoiding Felix. Morgan had violin practice during our library period now, so I figured Felix would stay at the table by himself.

  Also, I was getting comfortable with the lonely books. I could sit however I wanted with no side-eye from the librarians—say, flopped on my back with my lines on my stomach. I had trig homework, but I wanted to make sure I knew my part without practicing in front of other people. Appearing disaffected was a difficult calculus.

  I had just gotten comfortable when Felix approached. “Can I sit with you?” He didn’t wait for me to reply before sitting—near enough to talk without raising our voices, but not close friend distance. He sprawled all over the floor and propped his chin in his hands.

  “I keep telling you it’s a free library. My attempts to establish a Dewey decimal dictatorship have thus far failed.” Crud. Too friendly. Almost as if we were talking shit together, instead of me aiming bullshit out into the universe. “I will inform you this is a kingdom of one, however. You’re an interloper, and I do not take challenges lightly.”

  Felix shrugged. He produced a leather-bound book from his messenger bag and flipped through it, his tongue between his teeth. “I’m not gonna bug you, promise. I’m just stealing your good idea because music helps me concentrate.” He popped his earbuds in as proof and turned his attention to the text.

  I told myself I wasn’t curious. Then I peeked anyway. It was a fancy copy of Midsummer Night’s Dream, and the pages were written all over and highlighted in cramped handwriting I couldn’t make out upside down.

  Felix took out one of his earbuds. “It was my mom’s.”

  I returned my gaze to the ceiling, but I couldn’t not say something. “I heard. It sucks.”

  “Yeah.” Apparently this was the one topic he wasn’t going to give an oral report on.

  Fair enough. I hadn’t told anyone the truth about my mom. Even most of our relatives thought it was an accident. I held my paper up, skimming the lines.

  Felix popped his earbud out again. “Oh—I almost forgot. Did you get a chance to ask Morgan about the concert?”

  He was getting fresh with me now we were going to be married onstage. “I mentioned it. He said he has to survive the rehearsal first.”

  “Yeah, I guess it makes sense.” Felix bit his lip. Better. “Did you want to come? Without him, I mean. The concert’s going to be amazing either way, and I’m not gonna tell you no if you loved the music. Because I thought you did.”

  “It was okay,” I said in a bland tone, to hide how I’d spent the last few days getting my little gay heart ripped out by Cameron James’s music
.

  I had no idea if Cameron James was gay. I’d tried Googling him, but Morgan was right—total mystery. All the fan pictures were blurry and hard to make out; the better ones had been copyright claimed. But his songs were genderless, so I could picture whoever I wanted.

  I put my hands behind my head. “We’ll see. If Morgan doesn’t want to go to the concert, rehearsal fucked him up, and then I should go home with him and make sure he eats instead of puking his guts up all night from stress.”

  Felix fidgeted.

  “I’m starting to wonder why you don’t just talk. You’re loud even when you’re quiet.” I directed my comments to the ceiling tiles, painted with portraits of famous literary figures.

  Felix blushed, hiding his face. “I know. I’m not subtle. I tell myself I am trying to be better, but I get really excited about everything, and then it’s hard to sit still. But…would he do that? If he gets freaked out.”

  I thought about saying something hyperbolic, but he wouldn’t understand I was joking. Or how it hurt too much to tell the truth. “Look, there’s social anxiety, and then there’s my brother, okay? He’s perfect at everything, so he’s got to have one flaw. And his flaw is other people terrify him. Even his friends.” I thought of what Morgan had said about our old school. “Especially his friends. And before you ask, no, it’s not my fault. I am the way I am to keep him safe.”

  I rewound what I’d said and glared at Ceiling Tolstoy to make it clear this topic was not up for discussion.

  Felix either didn’t notice or my glare didn’t work. “I figured that out. It sucks you guys fight all the time, and you swear a lot, and I am not equipped to cope with it. But at the same time, I can tell you’d murder anyone who was mean to him, and it’s sweet. In a terrifying way, but still.”

  I bristled. “Never say anything involving me and sweet in the same sentence again, or I’ll murder you.”

  And the little bastard didn’t even bat an eye. “You’re not as scary as I thought you were. I thought you didn’t care, but I could tell you loved the music the other day, and it’s cool. Although I’ve never met anybody who doesn’t.”

  I let out a disgusted sigh. “You really enjoy pushing your luck, don’t you?”

  He grinned. “It is the meaning of my name. I can’t do much else.”

  I thought about trying to reestablish my dick-bag credentials, but nothing would work, so I picked up my paper and stuck it in front of my face.

  Felix got the hint and put his earbud back in. I would have to find another place to sit if he kept this up.

  WHEN THE BELL rang, I shoved my lines back into my bag. Felix had somehow spread his stuff everywhere I could step, so I couldn’t leave, and he hadn’t heard the bell. I thought about tugging on his hair. But. No. Bad idea. He had nice hair. The kind you could dig your fingers into, and not in a sexy way. So you could stroke it away from his face or something.

  Motherfucker.

  I settled for nudging his free hand with my foot. I had to do it twice before he noticed. “Oh, crud, did I miss the bell?”

  I nodded, indicating with my eyes that I would set fire to his stuff if he didn’t move it.

  He pulled his earbuds out. “Sorry. Sarah tells me I have no sense of personal space. But then she hugs me anyway, so I tell her she’s sending me mixed signals.” He paused, carefully marking his place in his mother’s book. “And then she smacks me and lectures me about how gay she is. And that’s how I know Sarah loves me. That’s also my roundabout way of saying don’t hit on Sarah, because she’ll hit you.”

  I stared at him, although I wasn’t surprised. This happened every. Freaking. Time.

  “What?”

  “You’re seriously going to tell me we’ve spent a good third of our conversations talking about your big gay crush on Morgan, and you have not noticed. Do I have to put a goddamn sign on my forehead?” I gestured at myself.

  Felix’s expression brightened. “Oh, are you queer too? Zach was telling me he thought you were gay, but I have no gaydar. At all.”

  “Why was he talking about me?” I realized Felix and I were walking out of the stacks like—well, like we’d sat together on purpose. Good thing the library was already empty.

  “Because he’s gay too,” said Felix, not as though I should have known. “And it’s good he is because Alex is ace, so he never notices anything. Sarah notices, but she thinks it’s crass to speculate. And I’m oblivious, I guess. We make a full set. Hence why we named our band the LGBT Whatevers. Even though we don’t have a trans person. But as far as we know, no one in school is out as trans, so. We’ll get there. In the meantime, we focus on being as respectful as possible to the trans community.”

  “How do you get these things out in one go?” I wanted to say something crasser, but listening to him tired me out. It was more work than speed-reading War and Peace.

  “I have breath training. It’s not hard. I’m glad Zach wasn’t here to hear me, though. He always makes dirty jokes.”

  His comment snapped me back to reality. Felix was so easy to spend time with; I kept forgetting I wasn’t supposed to be his friend. “I should go meet Morgan. He’s probably debating whether it’s safe to come out of his practice room.”

  Felix’s eyes widened, as if I had mentioned I was going to Hogwarts.

  I bit back a sigh. “Did you want to come?”

  He nodded, as if I’d extended him a welcome letter to said school of witchcraft and wizardry. “He’s really talented. I dropped my flute the other day because Mr. Richards had the strings practicing their part for one song and. Just. Wow.”

  I didn’t roll my eyes at him because “just wow” summed it up. “Yeah, he’s good. But I don’t know much about music. I carry his stuff and hold the bucket when he pukes from stress.”

  Felix chewed on his lower lip. He might as well have yelled I have things to say. “You really don’t do—art things?”

  At this point, I should have mentioned I enjoyed dancing, but I was doing my best not to dig myself any deeper into this particular Felix-shaped pit. “Morgan’s the talented one, I told you. I’m just a dick.”

  Felix wrinkled his nose.

  “If you’ve got something to say, say it. Otherwise, I might have to shake you like a vending machine, and I won’t be happy with whatever pops out. Then I’d have to call the complaint line, and the good people at customer service don’t deserve my wrath.”

  “I’m trying to be tactful, but okay.” Felix slipped around in front of me, blocking my way, and put his hands on his hips. Again. Not intimidating. Think gamboling kittens. “Saying you’re a jerk does not excuse you being a jerk. It makes you feel better without doing anything to fix it.”

  I blinked at him. “Are you going to lecture me on everything?”

  “Yes! If you want to make up with your brother, you need to get rid of your bad habits. This one is especially egregious.”

  I blinked again. “Did you seriously say egregious?”

  “My mom is—was a classics professor. I have an excellent vocabulary.”

  He wasn’t wrong, which was the problem. I covered my face with my hands. “Let’s just go get my brother, okay? He’s starting to gnaw off his own limbs from terror right about now, and if I try to engage with what you said both of us will regret it.”

  “Sorry. But I had to say it. It was bugging me.” He fell back into step beside me, although he took three steps for each of my one. “You know, you’re right. I should say what’s on my mind. I think that’s why I babble so much—I have to make up for all the times I try to keep my mouth shut.”

  I was beat by the time we got to Morgan’s practice room. As I expected, Morgan had already packed up his things and was sitting on the single chair in the practice room, trying to make it seem he was doing it on purpose and not because he didn’t want to leave the room. “Oh—hi, Felix.” He almost made eye contact. Almost.

  “I have a shadow now, apparently,” I said, laying on the disgust.
>
  Felix blushed. “We were in the library together, so. Um.”

  “We had to walk in the same direction, yes. Let’s go, before your friends decide I stole you away to my underground labyrinth.” I shooed the two of them ahead of me.

  To my surprise, Morgan asked Felix about his day. Felix answered as though Morgan had offered him an all-expenses paid trip to Disneyworld, complete with shining eyes and a huge smile. Morgan smiled back, only a little bit like a body snatcher clumsily manipulating his human skin.

  It was as cute as it sounded. I gave them a good head start so I wouldn’t ruin it.

  FELIX’S FRIENDS WERE already there. When Zach spotted us, he patted the seat next to him. Today, his nametag said Dean Thomas, and Alex’s said Kingsley Shacklebolt. Felix glanced at Morgan, as though for permission, and Morgan managed something that might have been a nod if you were generous. Which Felix was. He ran forward and leaped over the chair to sit in it.

  Miss Copeland glanced up at the noise and saw Morgan and me. “Oh, good, I wanted to talk to you two.”

  Morgan turned into a block of wood. He always assumed the worst whenever a teacher approached us. At our old school, teachers couldn’t tell us apart, and he got yelled at in my place.

  But Miss Copeland was about as scary as a wheezing pug. “I wanted to say I enjoyed the direction you both took things at the audition. I went home and redesigned everything—I want to use choreography to tell the story as much as the dialogue. We won’t start blocking for another week or two, depending on how the readings go, but if you have time, I’d love to hear any ideas you have.”

  Morgan took a step back. “Dancing’s his thing. I was never very good at it, to be honest.”

  I was too shocked by this betrayal to defend myself.

  Miss Copeland didn’t seem to notice. “Wonderful. As I said, no pressure. I’m sure both of you are very busy—I know how stressful school can be, and memorizing Shakespeare isn’t a breeze. But if you have anything for me, I’d love to hear it.” Another group of kids entered, so she went to burble at them.