Page 8 of Miserable Marionette

He smiles, breaking the undercurrent of tension, shaking his head. “Even so, Gideon needs to help me with a new client.”

I groan. “Can I at least—"

“Not today, Audrey.”

My heart stills when I turn to say goodbye to Gideon. His dark black hair is sticking to the sweat on his brow; he looks so… upset. Will he tell his dad? The school will be calling tonight surely… “Gideon?”

I smile at him as his fingers clasp a strand of my hair, running it between them before giving it a sharp tug as he leans in, whispering to me softly. “Our place tonight?”

I almost fail to suppress my nod and eager grin before I wave bye to his dad, bounding out the door.

When midnight hits, I’m already halfway through my upstairs window, clambering down the lattice on the side of the house, careful not to upset Mom’s ivy. The dry grass crunching beneath my feet might as well be drums, as loud as it sounds in the stillness of the night. Not even the crickets and frogs keeping up their songs to help disguise my sneaking around. It’s been a dry summer, unseasonably hot; Mom's tomato plants are one missed watering from death. Even in mid-August, fall looming ahead and in the dead of night, it’s at least every bit of eighty degrees outside. I dash for the wood line, Krissy in my arms. Even after all these years, the woods still scare me, like I’m starring in my own horror flick unless Gideon is with me.

Our grove can’t come soon enough, and the second I hit it, a squeal rips from my lungs as strong arms band around me. My head goes light as he spins me, laughing.

Gideon… laughing.

I decide it’s my favorite sound as it carries through the dark woods again. “Audrey!”

We spin until the woods wobble around us and we collapse on the ground, my smaller frame slamming into his as he cushions my fall, finally cutting off my laughter. It’s only then I notice how sweaty he is. “Ew! You’re gross!” I squeal, trying to shove away, but only barely.

He laughs again, and for a second, I pause over him, again shaken by the sound. The look of his empty ocean eyes filled with light. Not the fleeting sliver I’m used to but overflowing. Like something deep inside him has finally come to life. The strands of my hair dance over his flushed cheeks. His chest heaves, brushing mine and suddenly I’m aware of our closeness in a way I’ve never been before. Aware of how warm he feels, how nice it is. How right it feels. Like when I sneak into the bed with Mom and Dad during thunderstorms. It’s a warm safety you feel from the top of your head and spreads down to your toes. But different… sharper, softer.

Gideon looks at me like I’m the only thing he’s ever seen as he reaches up, tugging his fingers through my hair. I don’t miss the slight tremble to them. “I just… I think everything will be okay now.”

I blink dumbly, his words breaking me out of my staring. He slams air into his lungs like he can’t get enough of it, sitting up so abruptly I'm forced to retreat so that our heads don’t knock together, making me fall back onto my butt between his bent legs. “Well, what happened?”

“I got to work with my dad, like really work with him!”

I frown, our flashlights barely illuminating where Krissy had landed as I reach for her, dry grass crunching underneath, narrating each tiny movement. “You’re this excited over embalming people?”

He shakes his head, his moppy black hair shifting wildly. The action seeming to directly conflict with his words. “Yes! Well, I mean not quite, it's just… you wouldn’t understand, Audrey.”

My frown deepens, the light feeling stripped from my chest so quickly I wonder if I’d imagined it. That’s his go to, you wouldn’t understand. “I want to understand. If you’d just—”

“No,” he snaps, making me flinch. All the humor gone from his eyes, snuffed out like someone slammed a lid on a candle. I suppose that someone is me; it only makes the bitterness rise in my chest. Gideon is firmly back in place, removing any ounce of whoever he was moments ago.

I did that, made him cold again. Ruined his happy moment. I want to reach through time and snatch it back, to just be quiet and let him ramble but I can’t. The words dripping from my mouth like a leaky faucet. “Well, maybe I could—"

“Audrey, you can’t be a part of this. I don’t want you to.”

Embarrassment floods my chest as I jerk to stand. I don’t know why my feelings are so… unbearable lately. I just know if I was excitable as a kid, I can’t fathom what they’d call me now. Everything feels like it’s happening to me, but times a thousand. I’m angry and I cry a lot. Over things that don’t even make sense to cry about, and that just makes me cry more. Like right now, when I should try to listen to understand, I can’t think past the hurt I’m not even sure I have any right to feel. That I just want to be the thing that makes Gideon light up, and I… I can’t even be a freaking part of it.

That he wants to do it without me.

With that single wayward thought, the heat in my chest gets the best of me. “Why?! You get to help him. You’re only two years older than me!”

Do I want to help his dad cut people up and pump them full of gross stuff? No, the thought makes me want to vomit, but my heart hurts more at the idea of not being a part of whatever makes Gideon actually happy. Him telling me he doesn’t want me to do it with him is icing on the world’s worst cake. What kind of best friend says crap like that, anyway?

He stands gripping my shoulders while I glare up at him. My grip tight on Krissy. “You just can’t, Audrey. Pretend I never said anything.”

“NO!”

“Audrey…”

“Why should I?” I know I'm acting babyish, but I don’t care. If he can help his dad, so can I. I want to be with him always. Gideon is where I’m happiest, despite him possibly being the least happy person on the planet. It made him… laugh.

I’ve never made him laugh.