Let Them Talk

(Eight)

I'm starting to understand why they decided on the morning, why they decided on before dawn, rather than later in the day. It's like another time— a thousand years removed from real life.

Here, we are undefined— we are not people, but wisps of ideas and suggestions of personality.

It's storming, and rain batters at our faces, droplets freezing on our coats and in our eyelashes. Water sloshes over the sides of the pier, coating most of the surface with a half frozen salty spray.

"We really should meet outside of...whatever this is," I say to Blaze, huddled next to him inside half of his coat. "Like, maybe sometime warmer?"

"I...what do you have in mind?"

"Not—" I shift my feet. "We should meet, without everyone else."

"Oh, yeah. After school, before school, just come over." He leans. "It's not the setting, it's the characters, yeah?"

"Mm."

Lennon sips something out of a furiously steaming Starbucks cup, scowling.

Staring at us from a few feet away is Rhine, ice in her eyebrows and her hair a mess— but she's watching me lean on Blaze's shoulder like there's a sun inside.

"Homecoming is Friday," Lennon says, over the sound of Blaze's teeth chattering. "So I think we have our theme, for the painting."

"It's going on the field?"

"Of course— as long as they won't have a chance to clean it up beforehand."

I shake my head. "They won't have time— they'll barely notice the morning after, and by then it'll be too late."

Rhine rubs her hands together. "Beautiful. And our subjects are either Mr. Lancaster or...your principal, Joss."

"Or that Institute quarterback with the Beyonce tattoo on his—"

Their eyes narrow in unison. "How do you know about Bryonce?"

"Uh, that's not important. Is it a school secret or something?"

Rhine nods solemnly. "Very secret. Every institute student carries the shame." She shakes her head. "We can't do that— it'd let them know it was us. Or at least, it'd confirm that it was us."

"So it's down to the principals, then?"

"Yes."

"This is the biggest game of the season," I start, carefully.

"Also yes."

"Tensions are high, both sexual and otherwise."

"I like where this is going, continue."

"Just speaking theoretically, but what about Principal Huckett grinding on Principal Lancaster?"

Rhine slams her hands on the concrete, then fights back a wince of pain. "I. Love. It."

"Aren't we being, like, really homophobic? And sexist?" Lennon interjects, looking nauseous. "Can't we pick something else this time—"

"It's homoerotic, Lennon, stop being a hater. We can call it 'The Principal's Secret Desire.'"

Lennon groans and kneads at his eyes with one hand.

Blaze turns and whispers to me, "It seems like we're kind of obsessed with gay old men. Which, phrased like that, is even creepier than it sounded in my head."

"Blame it on Rhine," I whisper back, and then I'm glowing inside because I can feel him trying not to laugh.

Rhine clicks her tongue at me. "Joss, you can come, right? Your 'input' or whatever is very valuable." She glances from me to Blaze and back again. "Very valuable."