Chapter 16
From my position by the fire exit, I watch the students leave the gymnasium.
Most are laughing, but some of the little ones are bleeding slightly.
I ignore them and focus on my nymph. From the moment I laid eyes on her, she’s taken up nearly all the room in my mind.
To anyone else, she should be far from enticing in this state,—sweat-stained and kneeling in vomit—but all I see is perfection, and the fact that she needs me.
I was made to protect her. The compulsion to do so throbs in every cell of my body.
And right now, the help I can give is comfortably within my wheelhouse. Will it frighten her if I approach? I scare a lot of people, especially the female students. And my face is full of injuries today, the bruises from the fight at Machete’s are in full bloom.
But my perfect nymph should not be on her knees cleaning.
She lets out a long sigh, and my feet are moving before I can contemplate the situation any longer. Nymph must sense my approach as she lifts her head and looks straight at me with those beautiful silver eyes.
I brace myself for her fear response, but it doesn’t come. “Hello again,” she says.
I like the sound of her voice; it’s a little husky. She smiles, and I drink in her face. I wish I could say hello back.
Wait. Could I smile back? It’s not something I often try, and my muscles are confused as I force the sides of my mouth into an upward curve. As soon as the almost-smile happens, I drop the expression, and I feel my natural frown reforming. Giving up on my face, I gesture for the rag.
“Oh no, I can do it, but thanks. It’s my puke after all.” She gives a slight grimace, then stands. “I’m Theo, by the way.” The Nymph puts out her hand, but instantly retracts it again. “Oh, shit, you don’t want to shake with me, I’m gross.”
I frown at that. She’ll never be gross.
“What’s your name?” she asks, giving me another beautiful smile. I don’t answer, I’m not sure if my voice still works. I haven’t used it since I left the circus, and even then, my vocal cords mainly produced screams. Tightness coils in my chest. Will she run away if I don’t speak?
But in her perfect way, she just waits, letting me formulate the answer for as long as I want. Eventually, I come up with a plan and push away the hair that hangs over my shoulder to reveal the name badge pinned to my coveralls.
“Ludo?” she says. My name on her lips sounds like music. “Ludo,” she repeats. “I like it. Huh. It’s a name that’s impossible to Boggle.”
I take hold of the mop handle and look at her, confused.
“I have a mental habit of anagramming words,” she tells me. “Or unscrambling them into separate words, like the game Boggle, you know?”
When I shake my head, she frowns. “For example, we could use the word clean. I try to find all the words it’s possible to make from C, L, E, A, and N.” I nod, and she continues. “There’s can, lane, lean, cane, lace, ace…um…”
There is a layer of dust on the side of the bucket. I lean down and write ‘CLAN’.
“Clan, nice one. So, going back to your name, Ludo. L U D O: I think it stands all alone as a word. It can’t be broken into pieces at all.”
Her words rock me, for I am a man who is only broken pieces.
She makes a humming noise in her throat, then smiles up at me. “Maybe I can get hold of an actual Boggle set, and we can play sometime?”
I stop squeezing the water from the spongy mop and try to deal with the rush of blood in my ears and the pounding of my temple. This beautiful creature wants to spend time with me?
I begin to clean the floor.
“Thanks,” she says. “But you really don’t have to.”
She’s wrong. I do have to. I have to do everything and anything for her, and this?
This is the very least of things. She begins to chatter, not concerned about getting verbal replies in return.
It’s unusual. People don’t make conversation with me; it makes most folk uncomfortable for talking to be one-directional.
“This class was too much for me,” she says. “I can’t keep up. Professor Feniks is making me run laps at six every morning for the next month. I hate the idea, but it’s true that I need to get stronger. I’m completely puny.” She looks at me and showcases her tiny bicep, giving a laugh.
I shake my head. My nymph is perfect as she is.
“Do you know where I can find some disinfectant?” she asks after all the mopping is done.
I put up one finger, signaling her to wait, then walk to the storage closet and retrieve a spray bottle and another rag.
Nymph snags the bottle from my hands and squirts the floor.
Putting up a hand, she says, “Rag, please.”
I frown and shake my head as I lower myself to wipe the floor.
“I don’t think so. Yoink!” Suddenly, the rag is pulled through my fingers. “Ta-da!”
She giggles as she finishes up the cleaning. I stand until she’s finished, then take the rag and bottle and hook them into my coverall loops. She grabs the mop and bucket, but I hold out my hand until she sighs and gives them over. A tingle of warmth runs through me at her submission.
“I’m only letting you put them away so you won’t be butt hurt,” she grins. “But this friendship isn’t going to work if you insist on cleaning up all my messes.”
This friendship? My heart does a strange gallop. No one has paid me attention in I truly don’t know how long.
When her eyes meet mine, there is no fear or judgment, just curiosity and pleasure in my company.
“OK, Ludo—I’d better split. I’ve already missed most of Intro to Divination, so I’m going to ditch it altogether.
She winks playfully. “Do you think the teacher saw that coming?” I try my sorta-smile again, it’s a little easier this time.
She gives a little wave and says, “See you soon, hopefully, we’ve got a Boggle-match ahead of us. ”
I watch as she walks through the doors of the girls' locker room. In the silence of the sports hall, I push my tongue behind my teeth and try to relax my throat.
“Th-th-th-” the sound is raspy and low, but almost. I need to practice. I’ll practice and then one day?
I’ll say her name.