Misdirection (Borealis: Without a Compass, #2)

by Gregory Ashe

“That’s elbow-macaroni Emery Hazard,” Shaw said. “He’s my best friend.” North pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not the elbow-macaroni version. He’s not a real person. I know that.” “Now,” North muttered. “After fifteen conversations.” “I mean the real Emery Hazard. He’s basically my best friend in the whole universe. He’s got a boyfriend who’s really sweet, and his name is John-Henry, and I was going to make an oatmeal-cream-pie John-Henry because, well, Emery is so stiff and prickly, and John-Henry is so sweet and gooey, but North told me I couldn’t. North is always telling me what I can and can’t do. But I just go along with it. I thought it’d be really nice to give elbow-macaroni Emery Hazard a boyfriend, but North said no, and I always do what North tells me to—” “For fuck’s sake, you said you were going to, quote, ‘cream-pie John-Henry,’ and when I said absolutely not, because God help me if I understood what you actually meant, you sulked for three days and then made the damn oatmeal cream pie anyway. And then you ate it.”