“Hard to tell,” Ever says. “The state she’s in now, her expression seems to have mostly disappeared.”
Exactly.
“Any discolorations? Anything in particular about the color of her skin? Her lips? Her nails?”
While Ever shakes their head, I poke through the fabrics that make up the body. They’re fleece. Simple square pieces in different blues and greens, with one moss-green piece signifying her cloak. As my hands follow the curves, I can almost imagine a real body lying underneath the cloth.
“As you go through Councilwoman Yester’s clothes, you notice what fine quality the silk is. The stitching is exquisite. Her braided girdle, with a copper model of the council’s seal, lies limply to the side. She wears a simple golden necklace with a tiny cogwheel at the center.”
“Her pockets?” I ask.
They lean over me, and my breath hitches. “Her pockets are empty. It appears there are no clues to be found here.”
Only when Ever moves to the other players, do I breathe again.
Liva glances up at me. “You know, you could tell them how you feel.”
I tense my jaw. “Was there any particular reason why you think I’d value your opinion?”
It’s cruel, I know that.
Liva flinches. “Finn…”
I shake my head. Anger is so much safer than feeling. “Don’t pretend you care too much, Liva. We both know it’s a reach.”
Something like anger rushes over her face too. Hurt, but deeper than that. We used to be such good friends. It’s evident still in the way she designed my overcoat. Not just in terms of the design—comfortable with or without binder, with enough movement not to impede my crutches—but in the style as well. Compared to my usual wardrobe of thrift-store goth, the bright red overcoat is by far the most colorful thing I own. But it’s a bloody red, and it matches well with the crow skulls decorating my crutches, my pale skin, and my faded silver hair. There are leather straps on my back for my crutches. A long, black leather belt wraps around my waist several times, complementing the look. It lets me be the chaotic queer disaster I missed so terribly. It stands out. She did that, because she knows me.
And I thought I knew her too.
I always considered the possibility I’d get beaten up one day. It’s par for the course, isn’t it? Stardust High can be misconstrued as fairly modern, and even fairly liberal—especially by Arizona standards. But that doesn’t mean people like me—people like us—can fly under the radar. Most teachers and students are good about my name and pronouns, but I don’t pass as a cis guy yet, no matter how much I want to. No matter how much I thought I did, the first time I wore a binder. (I realized soon enough there was far more to it, but those first couple of days, I’d smile every time I saw my reflection. I finally found clothes that fit, and I found pieces of myself. Mrs. Akashi at the thrift store started putting shirts and coats aside for me, once she realized how much joy it gave me to be able to present the way I felt.)
Still, Ever and I were two of the only openly trans kids at school. And we weren’t just not cis enough, but also not wealthy enough—or abled enough. There were always a few people who thought it was edgy to taunt, and insult, and spit at us. Of course, by that same narrow-minded worldview, to those same people, we were at least white enough. We had Liva’s friendship. We never bore the brunt of the bullying.
But I never really thought it would progress past slurs and pushing us around.
In a way, it didn’t. They didn’t start the fight. I did. That’s the part only my therapist knows. I didn’t mind that they spat at me and shoved into me as I walked across the football field on my way home. I’d learned to ignore that. I snapped and started the fight because they said something awful about Ever. Irrational gallantry, maybe? I never asked for this type of masculinity, but there it was.
There were only three of them—two cis guys and a girl, all of them seniors too—and I’d seen Liva walk up to the sports field. I knew I wouldn’t be alone—
I thought I wouldn’t be alone.
Of course, that makes it sound like a far more considered decision than it was; it was anger, mostly. And protectiveness. And being worn down by the pain of a subluxated shoulder.
I should have been smarter.
I shouldn’t have trusted so foolishly.
I thought Liva was a friend. I thought she would have my back. That was the worst thing. When I think about that afternoon, I don’t think about the people who took my punches and then beat me up. I know they are mean-spirited and shortsighted, and I don’t want to give them the pleasure of having hurt me.
But I saw Liva from a distance. I saw her watch when they took my crutches and broke the cuffs off, which somehow hurt more than when they broke my wrist. I saw Liva stand there and stare. I saw her look away. She didn’t do anything.
That was the moment everything shattered. The wounds have healed, but the scars are still there. Perhaps it’s good this is all ending. Perhaps it’s good this’ll be the last time we are together like this, figuring out clues, eating the dinner that Liva laid out, not noticing as the hours slip by. Friendships aren’t meant to last forever, right?
Let me know if there’s anything you need. Physically. Emotionally.
* * *
As the night passes, I keep coming back to that moment. I’ll glance around the room and find Ever staring at me. The moment our eyes meet, they’ll blush and turn away, arms wrapped tightly around their chest.
The game progresses around me, and outside, the sun has set. The shadows in the room have lengthened and the fireplace is burning low. Between the dark corners and the yellow light, it almost looks like a magician’s tower. Next to Ever, Carter and Maddy are sitting around a puzzle box, trying to find more information. There are fragments of paper spread out on one of the tables. Carter’s fingers are wrapped around a mug.
“…from the letters, it’s clear that Councilwoman Yester had been in talks with the Leah Family, one of the ruling families of Gonfalon’s underbelly. Not a family a council member would usually be in contact with. More than that, most of the evidence seems to have been carefully burned to ashes.”
“We really need to open up this chest,” Maddy says.
“Wait, wasn’t the Leah Family behind that disappearance in the library?” Carter asks.
Liva walks toward them carrying a plate of cookies from the kitchen. “Oh yeah! That time when C almost lost his arm because he didn’t pay attention to traps. That was fun!”
Carter scowls. “You have a weird concept of fun.”
“Your arm got sucked into a stone wall. You should’ve seen yourself.” She offers him the plate.