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December 31, 2018 - January 1, 2019
“I’m legal.” And then I immediately felt stupid. There was a long pause. “No,” Max said. “You’re dangerous.”
He’s the other thing I like about Anna. Wherever she goes, he follows.
“Sorry, did you want it? It might balance out your collection.”
“I live here. Not here-here, but there-here.”
“Good. Because that guy demands observation.” And she marches inside.
“When it’s right, it’s simple,” he says to my unasked question. “Unlike your hair.”
There’s something deeply spiritual about her pale glow, her cratered surface, her waxing and waning. She wears a new dress every evening, yet she’s always herself.
“Second hurts.” He stares at me for a moment before lowering his head back to the pumpkins.
“I’m better now.” He sets the apple beside me. “At kissing. Just so you know.”
I get the strangest sense he’s thanking someone.
“That means you’re in a stage of confusion or trouble. But with me living here, we didn’t need leaves to tell us that.
St. Clair grins. “Are you…sure this is his room?” “Oh, I’m quite sure.”
“Grasshopper. Centipede. Praying Mantis.”
“Damn right, I’m right.” A pause. “Wait. Right about what?”
“The front door, Cricket. Out the front door.”
“I just want you to know that we didn’t do anything but talk and sleep – sleep sleep,” he quickly adds. “Like with eyes closed and hands to oneself and dreaming. Innocent dreams. I would never do anything behind your back. I mean, never anything dishonourable. I mean—”
“But I’ll take out an opponent’s kneecap if I have to.”
“Lola, Cricket wants to show you his thing, too-oo!”
“Honey,” he shouts to Nathan. “You’d better get in here. Lola is using new words.”
“I am trying really hard not to use the word ‘fabulous’ right now,” Andy says.
And if I’m the stars, Cricket Bell is entire galaxies.
hand in hand
with the boy who gave me the moon and the stars.
