Chapter Three
Scattered
It was a cool space if you didn’t mind the clutter. There were models and bright colors and lots of art from past students that hadn’t been taken down from the walls. Hilary was looking at one of the posters, a cubist piece of what he thought might be an old arcade, when Aspen said, “Hilary.”
The necklace was broken. Not just the clasp, but entirely, the pearls scattered over the tarp, taking up part of the floor.
Hilary knew before he even asked his next question. It was something about how Varda’s face had been back at her house. It hadn’t just been the lack of surprise. There had been more there. Hilary turned to Aspen. “How did you know to come here?”
It was quiet, and he was forced to begin again. “How did you—”
“They always come here,” she blurted. “Since freshman year.”
Hilary had wondered a little about it. Why the most popular girl in school, so pretty and smart and well-off, was single. The answer was obvious now. She hadn’t been.
It was Trenton his anger went to. “Why didn’t you just tell me that? Instead of stupid cryptic shit.”
But Trenton was only the black sheep, the one no one ever spoke to except to make those stupid whale sounds whenever he passed. The boy looked shocked, his eyes wide. He hadn’t known.
And then suddenly Hilary was sick to death of it.
He didn’t care to ask who the guy was, or even if it was a guy.
It could have been an alien for all he knew.
Or a real mermaid-vampire. He knelt and began to collect them, the pearls smooth and a little cold, shining a little. Luminescent. He began to laugh.
The other two were kneeling as well, collecting up the pearls.
There were too few of them. Hilary couldn’t know that for sure.
It wasn’t like he’d ever counted the things, but there just seemed too few.
Not a full necklace’s worth. But what did that matter?
It was ruined now. His mother’s favorite thing.
“I just didn’t want them to do it again.
” Hilary’s words came on their own, falling from him like those scattering pearls.
“Hilarina Ballerina. It was supposed to be safer if I wasn’t alone.
” Pathetic. That’s what it was. So pathetic he could die.
And it was all so obvious in retrospect, too.
Of course, it had turned out like this. When you were a weenie who grabbed onto people for such a desperate reason. Naturally, it would turn into a joke.
“Give them to me,” Trenton said, his voice flat as always.
And what a relief it was to have the boy be the same. To be entirely unaffected. For a moment, Trenton was Hilary’s favorite person in the world. Separate. A pariah. A laughingstock even more than he was.
“The pearls,” Trenton said, his hand out for them. “Give them to me.”
Hilary didn’t think to question it. Just gave them over. “I think some are missing.”
Trenton said nothing about that, just took the pearls from Aspen as well, who was looking uncomfortable and trying not to show it.
Hilary stood and took a breath. Oddly, he felt good. Better than he had at the start of the evening, anyway. It was almost a comfort that it had all gone so badly. Like a justification of all the worrying he’d done.
They moved the tarp and found a couple more pearls, but even then there still seemed too few.
“Do you want to check the hall?” Aspen asked.
It was possible some had rolled away or been kicked out.
But if that were the case, they could be anywhere.
Down the stairs. Scattered in classrooms. A couple might have been with Varda too, caught in her dress, and Hilary realized he’d rather choke down his own liver than ask her to check.
“It’s late,” he said instead. “You need to lock up.”
She’d probably be in trouble already for how late they’d pushed it, but still Aspen hesitated. “I’d rather we found the missing ones first. If it was your mother’s…”
And then he knew Trenton had been right. That Aspen was the person he ought to have dated. Instead, he’d chosen what he hoped would make him liked, and now he was being punished for it. “No, I don’t think—I need to get home. My parents are probably worried I’m still out.”
They headed out together, and Hilary walked Aspen to her car, but the only other one in the lot was his. He turned to Trenton. “How did you get here?”
The boy pointed toward the school where a lonely bicycle was chained to the signpost marking the teachers’ spaces.
“Put it in the trunk,” Hilary said. “I’ll drive you back.”
But the bicycle didn’t fit in the trunk, and he could tell without having to measure. Trenton knew it too. “I’ll come early tomorrow,” the boy said, throwing a foot over the bike. “We can search again.” He’d already turned to go.
“I’ll drive you.” Hilary heard the thread of panic in the words and wondered if the others heard it there too.
The offer wasn’t selflessness. It wasn’t gratitude either, though it should have been. Hilary just didn’t want to be alone. He knew he’d think some really pathetic things if he were alone.
“Alright,” Trenton said with his reliable flatness.
Aspen said goodnight. Then she offered an apology.
“For what?” Hilary asked.
But Aspen said nothing, and Hilary knew why. She was sorry for not telling him about Varda. For letting the new kid just walk around the school like that, the loser being cheated on. But it wasn’t her fault he was in this mess.
“It wasn’t like that,” he said, feeling guilty about her guilt. “We weren’t—I was using her too.”
Trenton sniffed at the air once they were in the car together. The boy didn’t make it obvious, but Hilary had done the same things too many times himself to mistake it for what it was.
“Like an ashtray, right?” he said. “That’s one thing I won’t miss.”
Trenton said nothing to that. Just sat, oddly prim, his hands in his lap.
It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t.
Trenton didn’t speak enough for Hilary to find the lack of it weird.
Maybe that was also why his headache had faded, though it could also have been because he’d stopped clenching his teeth.
They might have ridden in silence the whole way, but he ended up breaking it himself.
“Have you tried stopping them?” Hilary asked. “The idiots with the Whale thing.”
Again, Trenton said nothing. But the silence felt different. The boy was considering how to answer him. “No,” he finally said.
“Why not?”
But Trenton was ready with a counter. “Did fighting it help you with Hilarina?”
It was weird hearing that name in the boy’s mouth.
“I guess not.”
That brought the quiet again, though when they came to a red light, Hilary had another question.
“You recommended Aspen to me. If she’s so great, why not date her yourself?”
Trenton only looked at him. Right. Aspen was a lesbian.
“I guess you’ll have to leave some of the limelight to me now,” Hilary said. “Any tips for a fellow pariah?”
“You’re not a pariah.” And there was a flicker of something in Trenton’s voice as he said it, but not enough of a something to identify.
“What would you call it then?” Hilary asked. “All of my so-called ‘friends’ were in Varda’s group. Not that losing them is such a loss. Honestly, they were probably worse than being Hilarina.”
When Trenton didn’t answer, Hilary thought that was the end of it, but as the light turned green and they went through the intersection, Trenton said, “I’ll protect you.”
The car juddered a little as Hilary’s foot on the gas pedal faltered, but a moment later they were going smoothly again.
“Protect me?”
“From them.”
Hilary laughed, surprised and also a little embarrassed. “I thought you said stopping them wasn’t an option.”
“I can’t stop it,” Trenton admitted. “But I can be there with you. Like earlier, with the math.”
Hilary had nearly forgotten about the tutoring. It already seemed too long ago, like it had happened some other night.
It brought the embarrassment again and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. “What’s your home address?” It was what he ought to have asked the moment they first climbed into the car. For all Hilary knew, they were driving in the complete opposite direction.
But Trenton wouldn’t give him the address. “We’ll go to your place first.”
Hilary wasn’t sure what to make of that. “But then—”
“Your place,” Trenton said again. “So we can tell her together.”
And then Hilary understood. The boy meant the confession about the necklace.
The offer flustered Hilary, or maybe it was more correct to say it confused him, and to the extent he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Relieved? Annoyed? Is this what the boy meant by protection?
The lights were on when he got back—no surprise there.
There had been several missed calls when Hilary was leaving the school.
He’d shot back a text saying he was on his way home, but clearly it hadn’t been enough.
His mother met them at the door. “I had no idea you’d be back this late.
Do schools usually hold parties until one in the morning?
Your father was ready to drive down there. I don’t think—” She paused. “Hilary?”
No good. It was no good. He couldn’t do it.
And then Trenton stepped forward. “I broke your necklace.”
The words, or maybe the delivery of them, made the boy seem bigger than before, though he’d already been hulking.
Annette blinked. “Trenton.”
Only then did Hilary remember that his mom already knew his classmate from her ballet lessons.
Trenton took Annette’s hand and bowed his head over it. “I heard it was a family heirloom.” The words came out with gravity and texture, not the usual flatness. “It was an accident, but I should have been more careful.”
Annette was flustered too, like how Hilary had felt in the car. Maybe that was just the effect Trenton had on people—being too strange to classify.
Trenton released her hand and bowed again. “I’ll have it fixed as quickly as I can. I’m sorry you have to go without it for now.”
Again, like her son, Annette didn’t seem to know what to say—and that never happened to her. After a few moments, she rallied. “Accidents happen. I’m just glad you’re both alright.”
“Can I stay here tonight?” Trenton was giving neither of them any time to recover. “It would be bad for Hilary to drive again when it’s already this late.”
“It’s alright,” Hilary tried to say, finally putting his mouth to use. “I can—”
“It’s not a problem.” Annette said, her expression changing. “We have spare toothbrushes, though no guest room, I’m afraid. Are you alright with an air mattress? We also have the couch if you prefer that.”
Trenton didn’t care. “Whatever’s easiest.”
Annette waved her hand, a more normal mood already returning. “Don’t say that. This is the first time Hilary’s had a friend over. Do you boys want a snack?”
“I want a snack.” Albert had appeared from nowhere and was somehow behind Hilary, in the bathrobe with the ducks on it. “Hilary, you smell like smoke again.”
“Take it up with my ex-girlfriend, the chimney.”
Annette froze. “Ex?”
Albert didn’t bother to hide his relief. “Good riddance,” was the cheery judgement. “And who’s this? Her replacement?”
Trenton stuck out his hand. “Trenton, sir.”
“Annette’s the ‘sir’ in this house,” Albert corrected. “Call me Al.”
The exchange earned the man a smack to the back of his head from Sir Annette. “Where’s your sensitivity?” she demanded.
“What sensitivity? Hilary didn’t even like her.”
“You don’t know that!”
It had Hilary thinking he ought to have saved the bombshell for the morning. He wasn’t ready to go into things now. Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Trenton released Albert’s hand, and said with more of that gravity, “Hilary’s tired. We should get to bed.”
Albert ignored that to sniff at the air again. “It’s not just smoke. Were you digging through the garbage all night?”
Trenton was right. It was definitely time for bed. “I’ll be in the shower if you need me.”
When Hilary came out, the three stooges were sitting around the kitchen table drinking chrysanthemum tea.
It was what his mother served to important guests.
Why Trenton fell into that category, Hilary didn’t know, but if they wanted to have a tea party, good on them.
He was going to sleep. Though when he got to his room, he found Trenton was behind him.
“Christ.” The boy moved too quietly, and Hilary’s soul had all but left his body to discover him there. “We should put a bell on you.”
“Your father said he’ll drive me in the morning,” Trenton said. “So you should sleep in.”
“Why would you—”
“I need to be up early anyway for work.”
“You work?”
“At the bookstore on Clement.”
Was there a bookstore on Clement? The town wasn’t large, but Hilary still didn’t know it well. “It’s my responsibility to drive you, so I will. What time do you need to be there? I’ll set an alarm.”
Trenton’s mouth squashed down into a line—the first show of defiance he’d seen. “Forget it. I’ll just get a cab.”
“You’re not getting a cab. You’re only here because I insisted on driving. You’d be home already if I’d let you take your bike.”
They stared each other down, and Hilary remembered about the necklace and about how Trenton had carefully sealed the pearls into a packet of paper and put them into his pocket. “Why’d you take the blame for it?” he demanded.
“I thought it would be easiest that way,” Trenton said.
“Easiest for who?”
Trenton smiled. It didn’t look like one. His mouth only went up at the corner, and only for a moment, almost like blinking his mouth, but Hilary was pretty sure that’s what it was—a smile.
“Goodnight, Hilary.”
Hilary didn’t know why that annoyed him so much. “The couch is shit on your back,” he called out after the boy, but Trenton only raised a hand, already halfway down the hall.