ADDI THE BADDI
Three hundred and seventy million fireworks explode in my chest but my mind is blank. I don't know what to think. I don't know what to do. "You're not kidding, right?"
"Of course not, Addi." He sets two firm hands on my shoulder and forced my wandering eyes onto his. They are depthless tonight, and oh so intense. "Would I lie to you?"
No. But you would.
I get it, Siri. I'm a BADDI.
No. Baddi describes badass Addi, not morally bad Addi. Look him in the eyes, you coward.
I force my eyes upward only to be engulfed in a hug. Awkwardly I bend my arms and pat Ben on the back. Something claws its way up my throat. I turn into his shoulder, sighing deeply.
And at the perfect time, someone enters the tent. Yanking my hands back I shove Ben backwards. Ignoring his cry, I immediately come to meet a pair of blue eyes. Two little pools of confusion. Blink. Embarrassment. Blink. Confusion again. Blink. Smile. "Hey, guys."
"Where's Fred?" I ask. "We're not supposed to see him for two days—"
"Oh," Tom says, distinctly disappointed. "I was just dropping by."
I open and shut my hands a few times as though trying to get a handle on the right words. "Tom, you can't just 'drop by'. People are already suspicious that you and Fred are here all the time."
It takes a moment before he swallows, alleviating his frown. "Of course. I'm sorry. How could I forget?" He's slowly backing out of the tent. "I'll see you then."
I turn to Ben laughing a little, but surprisingly, he is studying me with immense confusion in his mind. "What?"
"You're not serious."
"I'm not serious about what?"
He slaps himself in the forehead so hard the rest of his face is turning red. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times like a fish before pacing towards me. He's chuckling as he says, "Adelaide Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, you are truly an idiot."
"That's not even my real name, genius."
He stops short, placing a step awkwardly. "You lied to me? When I specifically asked you not to?"
I've never been stabbed before, but I imagine it feels like this: first, a flare of adrenaline or something bitey like that, followed by pointed pain and the desire to regurgitate a scream. I persist nonetheless.
"It was a joke," I mumble. "Plus, you told me to tell you something real about me."
"And you still lied."
"But in some roundabout way, I did show you something real about me."
Please stop talking Addi. Please stop. I'm going to hurl. You're killing me. I feel like ripping the skin off my body. I feel like picking off my fingers and blending them up.
He massages his temples. "I don't understand."
"Well, in telling you a white lie, I showed you—"
"I don't understand you, Adelaide—if that's even your real name."
"Of course that's my name," I pant. It feels as if I've just been punched exactly where I was stabbed. Somewhere between my ribs, a little to the left. Nausea typically makes up for any emotions I've ever felt. "It's not a big deal," I say, an attempt to reassure the both of us.
Ben stops. His brain implodes as a realisation descends upon him. "Not a big deal," he repeats hollowly. His words echo through the stillness of my mind. Then, almost inaudibly, "Sorry, I thought—well, you probably don't care for what I'm thinking. That was such a Hufflepuff thing for me to assume."
Do you ever feel so clueless that you start speculating whether you got your medial lobes removed? And on a completely unrelated note, did I have brain surgery at any point in my life?
When I finally stop searching the tent for my answers, I meet Ben. He reads my expression and shakes his head, turning on his heel to walk out of the tent.
I chase after him.
You chase after him?
I catch his bicep as he's reaching for the flap.
You catch his bicep??
I open my mouth to ask all fifty-seven questions at once.
You open your mouth???
My words are an avalanche cartwheeling down a mountain. And thankfully, Ben is a yeti who can stop avalanches with just one hand atop mine. "Addi— Adelaide— whatever your name may be, I get it now. You don't have to pretend anymore. I got the message. I'm sorry it took so long."
"What message?"
Ben shakes his head, a sorrowful laugh filling the short distance between us. Beautifully melodic, cascading minor chords that remind me of the opening to a Beethoven piece. "Can I give you a little advice? Don't do this to Tom. Push me around all you'd like, but please, don't do this to Tom because he misses you too much for your coldness."
He squeezes my hand. Then, he is really gone.
