24. Hotaru
We’re stuck in this weird holding pattern. Have been for months now. We sit by each other in the great hall, we sit next to each other in classes, we work out together, but we don’t talk about anything important. The most interesting thing we do is work on our new languages together. In the evenings, we stay in our respective rooms, doing what the fuck ever, until the next day when we do all this nothing together all over again.
Unless he has a nightmare.
Only then do I sneak into his room, tell him how much I love him, how much he means to me, and how I’ll always be here for him. Some nights, he wakes and thanks me. Other nights, he simply settles into a peaceful sleep. I don’t know which I like better. When he doesn’t wake, I get to watch him for longer than I should.
One night, I fell asleep in the chair next to his bed. Luckily, I woke before he did and scurried back to my room.
It’s better than nothing. But something has to give.
Last week, I decided what that thing was. This week, I have to follow through with it.
I’ve told him how I feel.
Tonight, I’ll show him.
Only two months are left until summer break, so I can’t put this off any longer.
I pull the black jumper over my head and situate it on my body. It matches the black pants and shoes I’ve worn since lights out three hours ago.
Not a peep seeps from the hallway. Out my window, I saw the last light in the professors’ dorm, a fresh form of hell on earth, turn off one hour and twenty-three minutes ago.
Pushing back into the darkness of my room, I grab the duffel bag with the tools we need, slide the strap over my head, and secure it across my chest. I snatch the other pile of dark clothes from my bed and head to Arlo’s room.
He sleeps soundly tonight, and I wish more than anything that he could stay that way. That I could go alone and spare him what’s to come. I know he’d never forgive me for it.
“Iku jikandesu. It’s time to go.” I keep my voice low but firm.
His sorrowful eyes meet mine in an instant. One brow quirks in question.
“Put these on.” I toss him the clothes. “Then meet me in my room.”
“Wh…What?” He sits up and looks at the clothes and shoes in his lap and then at me. “Where are we going?” He speaks quietly.
I place my palms flat on the edge of his bed and level my eyes with his. “To do a job we should have done before the last school break.”
“Hota.” He pushes the hair back from his eyes. “You can’t?—”
“If you waste one minute telling me I can’t, I’ll go by myself and show you that I fucking can.” I snarl at him in a way I haven’t done before. Not with him. “In fact, I’d prefer it.”
Arlo tosses the covers back, shucks his shirt, and pulls on the black jumper in seconds. I straighten and leave him shoving his feet into the black pants while simultaneously trying to maneuver a black sock onto his other foot.
I open my window and poke my head out. There isn’t a hint of movement outside except for the gentle breeze rustling the leaves.
My suitemate comes skittering into the room with one shoe on and the other in his hand.
“You don’t have a cell phone I don’t know about, right?”
“No.” He frantically laces up one shoe. The one that’s on him.
“Good. I’m leaving mine. I don’t have any identification either.”
He pats the pockets of the pants I gave him. “Me neither.”
“Good.” I tilt my head toward the door. “Mine’s locked.”
“Mine too.” He nods.
“Great.” I sling my leg out the window.
“Wait!” Arlo whisper-screams.
“No, I’ve done this six times in the past week. No one has caught me. Not even you.” I grab onto the thick pipe that runs up the side of the building and swing myself out of the window. “After you come out, close the window.”
The latch is so old, there’s no chance of it accidentally locking us out. It took me hours to get it moving the first time I opened the damn thing.
I don’t wait for him to respond. I shimmy down the three stories and crouch behind the hedges that line our building. I scan the area for any lights, people, or movement and find none.
Arlo is next to me almost immediately. I motion him to follow and slink down the side of the building, keeping behind the bushes. At the corner, I wait for a full minute before walking toward the back of campus.
My suitemate is right beside me. His gaze roves the area around us.
The shed comes into sight, and I can’t help but sprint to it. Of course, Arlo stays with me. Once safely in the shadows, I skirt to the back of the small structure and slip inside the door.
When Arlo is inside, he closes it, and we’re in absolute darkness. I pull the small penlight from my pocket and aim it at the ground before flipping it on.
Wide eyes meet mine. His jaw is taut, and his shoulders are high.
“I’m going to ask you this once. Your answer dictates our night from here.”
He nods.
“Do you want to kill your uncle?”
His shoulders settle, and he sucks a deep breath. His chin lifts, and I know his answer before he gives it. “Yes.”
I pull the keys from the hook by the door and toss them to Arlo. “I open the garage door, you put it in neutral, I’ll give you a shove, and you coast as far as you can. Should be about ten yards beyond the gate. I’ll cut across the yard to catch up with you, and then we turn on the engine and go.” I grab the front of his jumper before he turns away. “If you leave me behind, if you even think about it, I’ll have your uncle in custody before you get there. We do this together or not at all, understand?”
He nods.
“Your words,” I demand.
“Yes, I understand.”
I release him and head for the large wooden door. The rusty old hinges received their first oiling in probably ten years last week. Still, I grit my teeth and brace for any wretched noise.
It whispers and opens like a sweet lover. “Yes, baby.”
Rushing to the back of the narrow black car, I wait for a signal from Arlo. At his nod, I heave with all my might. The car takes off, going faster than it did the one time I got brave enough to try. I smooth out our shoe prints in the hard-packed dirt floor, close the garage, and sprint through the small tree line toward the car.
The passenger door opens before I get there, and I dive inside.
Arlo starts the engine, and we’re off.
Our huffed breaths are the only sound besides the rumbling of the engine for several minutes. We settle into a stilted silence. That is until Arlo takes a turn too sharply.
I grab the door and the seat, bracing myself for the slight skid of the tires. “Fuck!”
“Sorry.” He hisses between his teeth, settling the car back between the lanes.
The road straightens, and I glance back to assess the seat belt situation in this relic.
“Um, this probably isn’t the best time to tell you, but I don’t know how to drive.”
Whether it’s fear, nerves, or the stress of planning a murder, I huff a laugh so loud and absurd it hurts my ears. I double over and clench my side, searching for air. “Nope.” I cackle. “The best time”— breath —“would have been”— laugh —“before we left the garage.”
“Yeah.” He laughs but concentrates too hard on the road to give it his all. That’s when I realize the fucking headlights are still off.
My laughter dies a quicker death than his uncle will. I barely manage to keep from screaming a string of expletives. It will only scare him more.
I’m choking on my heart. Each beat constricts my airway more.
With trembling hands, I lean close to Arlo. “I’m going to turn on the headlights.”
“Headlights.” He nods. “Yeah, that’d be helpful.”
“You think?”
It takes me a few switches to finally find the right one, and the world in all its green glory opens up around us. It's not far around us, but it's more than we had.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.” I straighten in my seat and wipe the tears from my eyes. “Want to pull over and let me drive?”
“You know how?”
I nod and then realize he can’t see me. “Yep, my mom taught me when I was twelve.”
“Twelve?” Shock laces his voice.
“She got anxious on the road. She didn’t like to drive. So when my father was out of town one day, she taught me.”
“Please tell me it took more than one day?” Arlo says, gripping the wheel as though it might fly away from him.
“A couple.” I shrug. “I’m a fast learner.”
“I forgot how humble you are.”
I want to bite back about why he’s forgotten. Instead, I point at a clearing just off the road. “Go ahead and take your foot off the gas. We’re going to pull over right there. Now, gently apply the brake. More.” He follows instructions beautifully. “Good. Now, aim your wheel with a quarter turn. More brake.” We stop. “Perfect. Put it in park.”
When he’s sure the car isn’t going anywhere, he peels his hands off the wheel and turns to me. His smile is brighter than the car’s headlights.
“I’m happy to be your first…driving lesson.” I smile back for just a second.
He swallows so hard, I see his Adam’s apple bob.
I smack the seat. “Slide over.” He does, and I lift myself across his lap, careful not to touch him. “Buckle up.” I do the same, and we’re back on the road, moving faster and more surefooted than before.
We ride in silence for a long time, weaving through backroads that I’ve never seen in person but memorized from a map.
“I was going to go in a few weeks.”
I don’t tell him that I know.
“I was going to walk there. It would have taken me all weekend to get there and back.”
Again, I don’t tell him I know. I hacked his computer and deleted all his search history, trash folders, and caches.
I also refrain from telling him how shoddy that part of his plan was. How he would have been seen by fifty people while walking. How he could have easily been identified.
“Thank you, Hota.”
“Thank me when we’re back and all this is behind us.”
“I will.”
There’s conviction in his voice. It reassures me that what we’re about to do will liberate Arlo in a way that nothing else can. For me, that’s enough of a reason to press on the gas and get us there a little faster.