Rules for Orion

chapter twenty-nine

Twenty-nine: Logan
October 6, 7:20 PM. Cobalt, VA.

"You've made it all worse, you know," Devi says. We're prowling the alleys of Cobalt, looking for some disturbances that keep flashing across our maps—just Devi's, actually. The grid on mine is still broken, and we haven't gotten around to repairing it.
The disturbance is nothing big, nothing dangerous, but fast. We're hoping we can catch it off guard, if not to just find out exactly what it is. I waited until the last moment to text her and decide a time and place to meet up. I've been avoiding her for the last couple days; I won't deny that. I was just hoping she wouldn't bring it up.
"Honestly," I say, "fuck off."
"I'm just making sure you know."
"I know. You know I know. I regret it. And I don't want to talk about it."
"You regret it?"
"God, yes—I don't know. Shut up. Seriously."
We're using the flashlight on my phone, dragging the white glow across the recesses and crannies of the alleyway. It's empty; Cobalt isn't exactly a county with tons of back room crime.
"Logan, you should—"
"—Shh." I reach out blindly to quiet her. "I saw something."
I really did see something. Green and luminescent, barely noticeable. Possibly false. Probably mundane.
"Where?"
"Going that way." I point. "Just past us." I start moving.
Devi keeps pace. "As I was saying"—I sigh—"you should break up with him. For real."
"Can't do that now."
"That's exactly why you need to do it. It's kind of like you're leading him on."
When I sigh this time, it's not about anything Devi's said (it's easier to be pissed at her, though)—Jay said almost the exact same thing to me yesterday:"He's just gonna get even more attached. Especially if—'cause I think you—have you guys...?"
I was quiet for a pretty long time. He said, "Sorry. If that's too personal."
Then I said, "No, whatever, it's not. Yeah. We have."
He sighed. "Well, then, I don't want to say this is your fault, but, at this point, it's pretty much all up to you to tell him you don't want anything to do with him."
But I do want something to do with him. (I want everything to do with him. I'm pretty sure I've ruined it, though.)
"Okay. Makes sense."
He shrugged. "No problem. Don't beat yourself up over it."
"Okay," I say to Devi. "Makes sense. I just don't—"
She starts to run forward, farther and farther away from me down the alley. Her shadow slips out of the edge of my flashlight's halo. "—I saw it!"

I call Devi during my walk to the theater on the chilled evening of October thirteenth.
I say, "Talk me out of this."
"What?"
"Talk me out of breaking it off with Avery."
"But I want you to do it."
"I know." I stop at the theater's grimy doors. I waited too long to call. "If you tell me not to do it, I'll do it."
"Uh, okay. Don't do it."
I open the door. "Why shouldn't I?"
Devi goes quiet for a few seconds as I cross the lobby. "He might be trustworthy," she says, "or going through a rough patch. Or he might just be fucking crazy."
"Right. That's stupid." I hang up before either she or I can say anything else.
I open one of the doors to the auditorium.

Step, step, step. I recognize every grain in the carpet against the soles of my shoes as I feel my way through the dark with my palm to the wall. There's the staircase. I've never been up there—to the light booth—before, but I know it's where he sleeps. The are more stairs than I thought.

It didn't occur to me that he might be asleep. He calls me late at night sometimes, and it's when he seems to get most of his 'work' done. It's only seven thirty.
But here he is, curled in on himself on a shabby paint-smeared mattress, one arm pushed up under his cheek.
There's paper everywhere. Looseleaf, plain, and scrap sheets litter almost every inch of exposed floor space. It takes some severe maneuvering for me to not step on any of them. I finally get to the center of the room and sit on the corner of the mattress. Avery might as well be dead.
I want to read the papers.
I don't read the papers.
I'm not a complete asshole.
I guess.
I shrug off my hoodie.
Avery doesn't look dangerous at all. He hasn't talked to me since he last stayed over—besides the fact that I don't know what that implies, it means I could just go home. Text him or something. Tell him I want to hang out. Think about that, Logan.
My phone buzzes. It's Devi:

I'm about to respond, to say I wouldn't have had time to do anything even if Avery was awake, when I check the time. Eight twelve. I've zoned out for forty minutes.
I don't text her back. Instead, I put my phone on the crumpled blob of my hoodie and pull my knees up to my chin. I can wait for him to wake up—it's the least I can do.
Who am I kidding?
It's not that big of a deal. We're not in love. I don't know why I'm freaking out so much. He's a homeless college student with a probable overshot oxycontin prescription; I'm a sixteen-year-old who can't think about his own lost virginity without feeling like a fourth grader who missed a health unit.
He's not even my boyfriend.
And I'm pretty sure most of what I think I know about him is bullshit.
I'll wait for him to wake up.