females. But Taj and Shadus? Never. Never once have they held a patra over me.”
“S-So? So what? That doesn’t mean shit,” My voice cracks.
“It means something very interesting is brewing, Victoria,” Raine smiles crookedly. “Shototh be praised. This place was getting so boring.”
***
I finally get why the Gutters freaked out about the patra that night . But now that I get it, I just wanna dig a hole in the ground and die. But then I stop myself – why am I ashamed? Why am I embarrassed at all? These are Gutters we’re talking about. They’ve got weird traditions and even weirder logic. Taj and Shadus would never fight over a creepy, depressing, mean bag of bones like me. There’s probably another reason, or tradition, or rule. Something. Anything.
The Halloween fair tries to make us forget about the angry protestors. The security is as tight as ever, but we’re allowed to roam around the lawn in costumes and bob for apples and drink cider at the booths the faculty’s set up. It’s like they’re trying their best to ease the tension from the inside and the outside, but candy corn and fake blood packets only go so far. Students are laughing though, and the Gutters look equal parts excited and bewildered at all the strange, giant carved gourds and witch hats.
The corridors flood with humans wearing costumes and face paint. Even Mr. Weylan’s taken the time to put on Frankenstein make-up. People laugh and call to one another. Mr. Targe, dressed like a football player, yells at students for running in the halls. Candy apples wave in sticky hands, candy corn necklaces rattling and goblin masks hiding the truth behind plastic. Orange glitter coats the floor like the insides of a gutted pumpkin. The janitor and the groundskeepers pile wood into a stone-rimmed pit for the bonfire. The sky slowly deepens from chilly ice-blue to a sable navy dusk.
Mr. Targe lights the bonfire’s tinder. The flames feast eagerly, cracking logs with red-hot tongues. The bonfire gives off heat I feel even from my place on the hill. The teachers and EVEs stand close to the fire, talking. The Gutters seem unsure of what to do, hanging back at the edges as though giant fires aren’t their thing. Shadus stands close to the bonfire, the frigid October wind mussing his hair around.
He doesn’t see me walk up. I clear my throat.
“ Ya’an nhilir sid’hamorovan. Kuna ele’an mej .”
Shadus turns. He takes me in for a second, as if not really believing I just said that.
“My face is a what?”
“Did I say it wrong?” I start eagerly. “Because I swear I had that last particle down pat like, two hours ago.”
“You said my face was the butt of a horse, and that smiling would improve it.”
“Oh, I did say it right then.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“I got Ms. Gianca to teach it to me.”
He raises a brow.
“With…some adjustments on my part,” I add. His grimace blossoms into a wane smile. But it’s still a smile. There’s a pause.
“You were right,” I say. “We probably shouldn’t be friends. That’d be dangerous. But, I mean. We can be not-friends.”
“Not-friends?” He looks up. I struggle for words.
“Like, acquaintances. You know, talking partners. People who converse with each other sometimes. I mean, I like talking. Not in general. But. Uh. With you, it’s interesting. And I learn stuff. And contrary to what Taj says, you aren’t completely humorless. Just mostly.”
I hear Shadus snort, and under my bangs I glance his way. Our eyes meet, and I instantly look away.
“Friends are impossible for me, Victoria. It never works out. They think they want to be my friend, but then they see the real me. The ‘humorless’ me. The boring me. The nasty, cruel, terrifying me. And they leave, because it’s not worth sticking around. So. I’ll mostly ignore you. You mostly ignore me. It’ll be easier that way. It always is.”
The tone of his voice scoops my
“S-So? So what? That doesn’t mean shit,” My voice cracks.
“It means something very interesting is brewing, Victoria,” Raine smiles crookedly. “Shototh be praised. This place was getting so boring.”
***
I finally get why the Gutters freaked out about the patra that night . But now that I get it, I just wanna dig a hole in the ground and die. But then I stop myself – why am I ashamed? Why am I embarrassed at all? These are Gutters we’re talking about. They’ve got weird traditions and even weirder logic. Taj and Shadus would never fight over a creepy, depressing, mean bag of bones like me. There’s probably another reason, or tradition, or rule. Something. Anything.
The Halloween fair tries to make us forget about the angry protestors. The security is as tight as ever, but we’re allowed to roam around the lawn in costumes and bob for apples and drink cider at the booths the faculty’s set up. It’s like they’re trying their best to ease the tension from the inside and the outside, but candy corn and fake blood packets only go so far. Students are laughing though, and the Gutters look equal parts excited and bewildered at all the strange, giant carved gourds and witch hats.
The corridors flood with humans wearing costumes and face paint. Even Mr. Weylan’s taken the time to put on Frankenstein make-up. People laugh and call to one another. Mr. Targe, dressed like a football player, yells at students for running in the halls. Candy apples wave in sticky hands, candy corn necklaces rattling and goblin masks hiding the truth behind plastic. Orange glitter coats the floor like the insides of a gutted pumpkin. The janitor and the groundskeepers pile wood into a stone-rimmed pit for the bonfire. The sky slowly deepens from chilly ice-blue to a sable navy dusk.
Mr. Targe lights the bonfire’s tinder. The flames feast eagerly, cracking logs with red-hot tongues. The bonfire gives off heat I feel even from my place on the hill. The teachers and EVEs stand close to the fire, talking. The Gutters seem unsure of what to do, hanging back at the edges as though giant fires aren’t their thing. Shadus stands close to the bonfire, the frigid October wind mussing his hair around.
He doesn’t see me walk up. I clear my throat.
“ Ya’an nhilir sid’hamorovan. Kuna ele’an mej .”
Shadus turns. He takes me in for a second, as if not really believing I just said that.
“My face is a what?”
“Did I say it wrong?” I start eagerly. “Because I swear I had that last particle down pat like, two hours ago.”
“You said my face was the butt of a horse, and that smiling would improve it.”
“Oh, I did say it right then.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“I got Ms. Gianca to teach it to me.”
He raises a brow.
“With…some adjustments on my part,” I add. His grimace blossoms into a wane smile. But it’s still a smile. There’s a pause.
“You were right,” I say. “We probably shouldn’t be friends. That’d be dangerous. But, I mean. We can be not-friends.”
“Not-friends?” He looks up. I struggle for words.
“Like, acquaintances. You know, talking partners. People who converse with each other sometimes. I mean, I like talking. Not in general. But. Uh. With you, it’s interesting. And I learn stuff. And contrary to what Taj says, you aren’t completely humorless. Just mostly.”
I hear Shadus snort, and under my bangs I glance his way. Our eyes meet, and I instantly look away.
“Friends are impossible for me, Victoria. It never works out. They think they want to be my friend, but then they see the real me. The ‘humorless’ me. The boring me. The nasty, cruel, terrifying me. And they leave, because it’s not worth sticking around. So. I’ll mostly ignore you. You mostly ignore me. It’ll be easier that way. It always is.”
The tone of his voice scoops my
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