finger: thorn, ash, oak, red. This ward would have to stay just words until I figured out what the hell an ash tree looked like.
I stepped away from the door and moved toward the end of the portico that had the least water on the bricks. Crap. Double crap. So much for being alone.
A small, dark form crouched against the wall of the dorm, arms huddled around body, hood pulled up. I would’ve turned and gone back inside, but the way the hand was turned against the hidden face looked a lot like crying, and something about the shape of the body indicated femininity. Not something we saw a lot of here in Seward, the guy dorm.
The girl didn’t look up as I approached, but I recognized the shoes as I got closer. Scuffed black Doc Martens. I crouched beside her and lifted the edge of her hood with one finger. Dee looked up at me and dropped her hand. There were no tears on her face, but they’d left evidence of themselves in her red eyes.
“Psycho babe,” I said softly, “What are you doing here in this fearful country that is the men’s dorm?”
Dee reached up to her eye again, as if to stop a tear that I couldn’t see. She rubbed it and held out her index finger to me. “Want an eyelash?”
I looked at the lonely little eyelash that stuck to the end of her fingertip. “I read that you only have a finite number of eyelashes. If you pull them all out now, you won’t have any more.”
She frowned at the eyelash. “I think you made that up.”
I shuffled around to put my back to the wall and settled next to her, wrapping my arms around my legs. The bricks were cold on my butt. “If I was going to make something up, it’d be a hell of a lot more interesting than that. They were all like ‘teen girls are pulling out their eyelashes to relieve stress and now they’re hideously bald.’ I wouldn’t make that up.”
“I’ll put it back, if it makes you feel better,” Dee offered. She poked at her eye, reminding me again of its redness. I hated that she’d been crying. “My harp teacher is an ogre. How is your piping person?”
“I killed and ate him. They’re making me learn piano to punish me for it.”
Dee’s eyebrows pulled together in her cute worried way. “I can’t picture you playing the piano.”
I thought of earlier that day, Nuala’s fingers on mine and the piano keys beneath. “I can’t picture a harp teacher as an ogre. I thought all you harpists were supposed to be, I dunno, ephemeral .”
“Forty-point word.”
“At least fifty. Have you ever tried spelling it?”
Dee shook her head. “But she is an ogre. She keeps on telling me to hold my elbows out and I don’t want to and she goes on and on about how I’m doing everything all wrong and that I’ve learned from idiot folk musicians. What if I don’t want to play classical? What if I just want to play Irish stuff? I don’t think you have to hold your elbows out to be a good harpist.” Her mouth made a terrible shape, very close to tears. But there was no way something like a jerk teacher would send Dee to tears—she was a lot stronger than she looked. There had to be something else bothering her.
Dee bit her lower lip, as if to straighten her mouth out. “And the stupid dorms are so awful when it rains, you know? There’s no place to get away.”
I couldn’t ask her what was really wrong. Funny, now that I thought about it, I’d never really been able to—so I just sighed and stretched one of my arms over her head, an invitation. She didn’t even hesitate before edging closer and resting her cheek against my chest. I heard her sigh, deeper than mine, weightier. I wrapped my arms around her shoulder and leaned my head back against the wall. Dee in my arms was warm, substantial, surreal. It felt like it had been a thousand years since I’d hugged her.
I closed my eyes and thought about what someone would think if they came out onto the portico and saw us. That we were boyfriend and girlfriend? That Dee loved me and
I stepped away from the door and moved toward the end of the portico that had the least water on the bricks. Crap. Double crap. So much for being alone.
A small, dark form crouched against the wall of the dorm, arms huddled around body, hood pulled up. I would’ve turned and gone back inside, but the way the hand was turned against the hidden face looked a lot like crying, and something about the shape of the body indicated femininity. Not something we saw a lot of here in Seward, the guy dorm.
The girl didn’t look up as I approached, but I recognized the shoes as I got closer. Scuffed black Doc Martens. I crouched beside her and lifted the edge of her hood with one finger. Dee looked up at me and dropped her hand. There were no tears on her face, but they’d left evidence of themselves in her red eyes.
“Psycho babe,” I said softly, “What are you doing here in this fearful country that is the men’s dorm?”
Dee reached up to her eye again, as if to stop a tear that I couldn’t see. She rubbed it and held out her index finger to me. “Want an eyelash?”
I looked at the lonely little eyelash that stuck to the end of her fingertip. “I read that you only have a finite number of eyelashes. If you pull them all out now, you won’t have any more.”
She frowned at the eyelash. “I think you made that up.”
I shuffled around to put my back to the wall and settled next to her, wrapping my arms around my legs. The bricks were cold on my butt. “If I was going to make something up, it’d be a hell of a lot more interesting than that. They were all like ‘teen girls are pulling out their eyelashes to relieve stress and now they’re hideously bald.’ I wouldn’t make that up.”
“I’ll put it back, if it makes you feel better,” Dee offered. She poked at her eye, reminding me again of its redness. I hated that she’d been crying. “My harp teacher is an ogre. How is your piping person?”
“I killed and ate him. They’re making me learn piano to punish me for it.”
Dee’s eyebrows pulled together in her cute worried way. “I can’t picture you playing the piano.”
I thought of earlier that day, Nuala’s fingers on mine and the piano keys beneath. “I can’t picture a harp teacher as an ogre. I thought all you harpists were supposed to be, I dunno, ephemeral .”
“Forty-point word.”
“At least fifty. Have you ever tried spelling it?”
Dee shook her head. “But she is an ogre. She keeps on telling me to hold my elbows out and I don’t want to and she goes on and on about how I’m doing everything all wrong and that I’ve learned from idiot folk musicians. What if I don’t want to play classical? What if I just want to play Irish stuff? I don’t think you have to hold your elbows out to be a good harpist.” Her mouth made a terrible shape, very close to tears. But there was no way something like a jerk teacher would send Dee to tears—she was a lot stronger than she looked. There had to be something else bothering her.
Dee bit her lower lip, as if to straighten her mouth out. “And the stupid dorms are so awful when it rains, you know? There’s no place to get away.”
I couldn’t ask her what was really wrong. Funny, now that I thought about it, I’d never really been able to—so I just sighed and stretched one of my arms over her head, an invitation. She didn’t even hesitate before edging closer and resting her cheek against my chest. I heard her sigh, deeper than mine, weightier. I wrapped my arms around her shoulder and leaned my head back against the wall. Dee in my arms was warm, substantial, surreal. It felt like it had been a thousand years since I’d hugged her.
I closed my eyes and thought about what someone would think if they came out onto the portico and saw us. That we were boyfriend and girlfriend? That Dee loved me and
Similar Books
