by Frankie Rose
“A. S. S. Triple word score.”
“You can’t have ass as a word,” Tess declared. She picked up my tiles and thrust them back into my hand. “You’re forgetting the rules. You’re supposed to put down words that you know relate to Oliver. Like hockey. Or six pack.”
I pulled a face.
“Unless you’re commenting on the fact that he has a really great ass, in which case ewww, but okay.”
I threw my tiles back into the bag and shook it hard. “You are so remorselessly gross, you know that?”
“I’m not the one who thinks her brother has a great ass.”
“I did not mean that. I meant he has asses for friends. He goes to Whiteacre, remember?”
“That’s too tenuous.”
“I remember Whiteacre,” Oliver broke in. He sat cross-legged with me and Tess on the sheepskin rug, staring down at the most unconventional game of Scrabble ever played. There was a wistful gleam in his eyes. “I remember the sun, too. And football fields, where you could actually play football. I seem to recall there was this thing called the ocean…”
“You don’t have to stay down here, you know,” I told him. He gave me a look that said, yes, of course he did. It was ridiculous really. He was the one supposed to become like Elliot. He was the one supposed to undergo his rites and become a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. And yet it was me who wasn’t allowed out of anyone’s sight, much less go home and pretend like none of this had ever happened. It was pretty obvious why no one was concerned about Oliver, though. He was an unadulteratedly good-natured and all-round nice guy.
That was one of the words related to him that I had put on the board: nice. Oliver had sucked his teeth like it was an insult. Meanwhile, his words for me ranged from smart (Tess declared I was, and refused to be told otherwise), and black (my hair), to odd (because I was). Neither of us had improved upon his five-letter word as of yet.
I swapped out my tiles and rearranged them on the stand, but could only make one word out of them, which was mucus. I couldn’t really think of a way that I could associate mucus with Oliver without being rude. I rolled my eyes. “You’ve made this game way too hard,” I told Tess.
“That’s so untrue. You’re just not trying. How else are you two going to get to know each other?”
“Hmm…” I tapped my chin with an index finger. “Maybe by talking to each other like normal people.”
“She’s right,” Oliver agreed. “I can hold up the end of a conversation like you wouldn’t believe. And it really helps when you can communicate without the need of a vowel because all you have are consonants.”
“You too?” I asked.
He gave me a wise nod. “Oh wait. I can make a word that relates to you. I’ll just use a vowel on the board.” He plucked up two tiles and deftly slid a D and an N into place on either side of the A in black. The word sat there on the board like an accusation: a name, or part of one, anyway.
I cleared my throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Oliver gave me an uncertain look and then glanced at Tess. “Sorry, I thought…”
“Don’t worry, baby,” Tess said. “Just because my best friend here hasn’t told me that she is completely in love with a certain missing person named Daniel doesn’t mean it’s not true. Fess up, traitor, or I’ll be forced to take action.”
I gripped hold of my Scrabble tiles until the edges started to cut into my palms. I hadn’t had chance to talk to Tess alone since the night Daniel left, and honestly I really didn’t want to talk about him, full stop. The pain in my gut whenever I remembered our last encounter was too sharp to bear. The thought of trying to explain that conversation to Tess, who believed romance solved all the world’s hurts, was something I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
“Well?”
“Well, nothing. He’s a friend.”
“A friend? He looked like he wanted to kill you back when you were leaning out of that car with a gun in your hand. There’s only one reason someone would look at you like that. It’s because he’s insanely protective over you and thought you were going to get yourself killed. Or I guess he could actually just hate you. So there are two reasons. Which is it? Soul mate or psycho killer? Does he really hate you?”
I gave her a wry smile. “I used to think so.”
“And now?”
“Now… not so much.”
Tess broke out into a beaming grin. “I knew it! Perfect. We can double date.”
A bottomless hollow inside my chest ached. How could life ever be that simple for us? Saturday night, ordering pizza and catching a movie? Even the concept of going on a regular date with Daniel was a dream I’d never afforded myself. It just wasn’t going to happen. “You might be waiting a while.”
“Why? Once this is all over with, we’ll have all the time in the world.”
The words stung. They were the words I had wanted so desperately to hear coming from Daniel’s mouth, but instead he had told me he was going to die. I was probably never going to see him again. I could almost feel the color draining from my face. My hands shook when I set down the tiles.
Tess apparently noticed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “I’m just sick of being stuck down here.”
“Come on, Farley. Look on the bright side. Your subterranean incarceration is the perfect opportunity to get to know Oliver. Am I the only one who thinks you guys being brother and sister is the best thing that’s ever happened?”
Oliver groaned. I joined him. “We’re not saying we’re not happy about the whole thing,” I said. “It’s just easy for you to accept. You’re dating your best friend’s brother. It’s perfect for you. But you know and love both of us, and we don’t really know each other at all. It’s just going to take some time.”
Oliver nodded. “Exactly what she said.”
Tess scowled and threw herself back onto the rug so that her uncontainable curls tangled into the weft of the soft sheepskin rug. She hitched the neck of her sweatshirt up over her eyes and growled into the fabric.
“D’you think she’s annoyed?” Oliver asked.
“Undoubtedly. She probably thought you guys would get married and we’d instantly be one big happy family.”
Oliver did something completely unexpected at that point and blushed. It was bizarre seeing a guy react so obviously to something.
“I’m joking, of course!” I told him.
“I can hear you, traitor,” came Tess’ muffled voice from beneath her shirt. “Stop trying to scare my boyfriend, or I’ll tell Daniel about a few of your most embarrassing moments. I’ve been present for them all, remember.”
She had, too. I needed to change the subject. If not in an attempt to distract Tess from imparting all the horrific moments of my childhood, then because she kept saying Daniel’s name.
“Is she dead?” It was Beatty. For such a large man, he moved with surprising stealth. He stood at the back of the sofa, quirking a curious eye at Tess, who was still submerged in her sweatshirt.
“No. Just melodramatic,” I told him.
He gave me a bemused nod and raised his eyebrows. “Are you ready for your training?”
“No.”
“Good. See you this afternoon.” With that he stalked off towards the small area close to Daniel’s wrecking ground that we used for training and started pummeling the punching bag strung from the rafters. The sound of his fists’ thudding impact was nothing compared to the grunts of exertion he let out. They sounded like the final death throes of some tortured animal. Tess slowly inched her shirt down so that her eyes were visible and gave me and Oliver a worried look.
“Is that normal?”
I pulled a face. “For him? Yes.”
“I vote we abandon Scrabble and find somewhere else to be,” Oliver said. He was already on his feet. Somewhere else to be was an entertaining thought. Between the hangar and our bedrooms, there really wasn’t anywhere else. A sad, profound feeling worked its way up my c
hest. If Aldan were alive, we could have gone and visited him. We could have gone anywhere in the world provided the old man had been there before at some point. Not for the first time, I felt the overwhelming gravity of loss over Aldan’s death. He had provided comfort and escape whenever I really needed it, and I’d cared for him more than I’d realized. Until it was too late, anyway. He’d been a father to Daniel nearly his whole life. If I felt this bad, having only known him for a matter of a few short weeks, then how must he be feeling right now? Agatha, too.
Agatha was coping, at least. Organizing. Researching. Cooking. Reading through dusty old books. She was never still. I suspected that if she sat down for just a moment, her stoic veneer would crack and crumble into a thousand tiny pieces and there would be no putting her back together again. It was better that she had purpose.
Daniel was obviously doing the same thing, but he wasn’t the organizing or researching type. He was probably out killing things. I bit my lip and got to my feet.
“Why don’t you two hang out together? I kinda just…” want to be alone. The words were left unspoken, but they were understood all the same. Tess gave me a quick hug and I left them to clean up the board game. They would probably be playing X-rated Scrabble in Tess’ room for the rest of the day knowing my friend. There were only so many three- and four-letter words I knew related to that topic, and the idea of being present for that game was too hideous to contemplate.
