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Authors: Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Matt Stawicki
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beyond the lamplight into the darkness of the trees; closer to the lake. “You’ve got to stop doing that,” I said, sitting us down on a low maple branch. Her face and arms were paler than the leaf-shadowed darkness. She was warm beside me.
“Doing what,” she said in a toneless voice.
“Making me do stuff without asking.” I had said it out loud. I couldn’t think of any other explanation for what had happened. I’d go with this one until something knocked it out of the running. It might not make logical sense, but it made internal sense.
Besides, I could sort of almost remember a few times Mom had stared into my eyes and then shared her heartbeat with me. I couldn’t remember why.
“What are you talking about.” Willow sounded like a robot.
“Willow!” I gave her a little shake. “I’ll teach you to dance. I’ll write down a list. Just ask.”
“What,” she said. She stared straight ahead, though I was beside her.
I pressed fingers against the pulse at her wrist, trying to feel her heartbeat again, trying to feel mine, relieved that the heat had died, wanting the connection. Had it hurt her to break it? “Look, I liked being hooked to you, but it was making me breathe funny,” I said.
“What?” She sounded a little more awake.
“And I don’t really understand it,” I said. “Maybe if I knew more about it, it wouldn’t scare me.”
“Nick?” she said after a moment.
“What?”
“I’m not supposed to do things like that. That’s why my parents sent me away. I’m not supposed to kilianish , to fetchkva —to hook to—I’m not—especially not with—they’re going to lock me up. I’m sorry, Nick. I’m really sorry.”
She was going to get grounded? For reasons that didn’t make much sense to me—what had happened was between us, wasn’t it? “Look, it’s not like I’m going to tell anybody. What would I say?” I focused on the pulse at her wrist. Her heart was still beating too fast.
“I’m not supposed to do it. I’m not supposed to own boys, even though I have a special, secret reason for it. Mom and Dad explained to me that it’s wrong, even though my cousins at home kept doing it, even though our teacher told us to do it. Uncle Bennet and Aunt Elissa explained it to me. That’s why Mom and Dad sent me to them. Uncle Bennet and Aunt Elissa think it’s awful to own other people. I even understand that it is. I’m not supposed to do it, and I don’t want to do it anymore, and I start to do it anyway.”
I swallowed. “Own boys?”
“Own people. It’s the best—it’s the most—it—” She shook her head. “That’s wrong. That’s wrong. Oh, Nick.”
“Own people ...” I said, thinking about my mother and my father. My mother had made me feel like I was a part of her. My father seemed to think I belonged to him. I wasn’t sure either of them was wrong.
“I ...” she said, “I need to learn not to want to.” Her pulse was slowing under my fingers. “Or unlearn how to do it. Some lessons I was just too good at.” She took my hand and stroked the rough callus on her thumb’s outer edge along my palm and down my fingers, one at a time. “Some urges are hard to fight. I am so totally tempted to own you, Nick.”
A sliver of ice zipped down my spine. Some part of me wondered: what would that be like? If I did what she wanted—danced when she wished, wrote when and what she wished, followed her and served her in ways pleasant and uncomfortable? “No,” I said, my shoulders twitching. Though really wouldn’t it be more interesting to do what Willow wanted than what my father wanted? The demands were sure to be different.
“Well, I won’t,” she said. She raised my hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss into my palm. “I won’t own you. If I even started the procedure that makes you mine, my aunt and uncle would release you and punish me. I’m trying not to do anything to you. But then I get scared, and I’m not sure how to not start
“Doing what,” she said in a toneless voice.
“Making me do stuff without asking.” I had said it out loud. I couldn’t think of any other explanation for what had happened. I’d go with this one until something knocked it out of the running. It might not make logical sense, but it made internal sense.
Besides, I could sort of almost remember a few times Mom had stared into my eyes and then shared her heartbeat with me. I couldn’t remember why.
“What are you talking about.” Willow sounded like a robot.
“Willow!” I gave her a little shake. “I’ll teach you to dance. I’ll write down a list. Just ask.”
“What,” she said. She stared straight ahead, though I was beside her.
I pressed fingers against the pulse at her wrist, trying to feel her heartbeat again, trying to feel mine, relieved that the heat had died, wanting the connection. Had it hurt her to break it? “Look, I liked being hooked to you, but it was making me breathe funny,” I said.
“What?” She sounded a little more awake.
“And I don’t really understand it,” I said. “Maybe if I knew more about it, it wouldn’t scare me.”
“Nick?” she said after a moment.
“What?”
“I’m not supposed to do things like that. That’s why my parents sent me away. I’m not supposed to kilianish , to fetchkva —to hook to—I’m not—especially not with—they’re going to lock me up. I’m sorry, Nick. I’m really sorry.”
She was going to get grounded? For reasons that didn’t make much sense to me—what had happened was between us, wasn’t it? “Look, it’s not like I’m going to tell anybody. What would I say?” I focused on the pulse at her wrist. Her heart was still beating too fast.
“I’m not supposed to do it. I’m not supposed to own boys, even though I have a special, secret reason for it. Mom and Dad explained to me that it’s wrong, even though my cousins at home kept doing it, even though our teacher told us to do it. Uncle Bennet and Aunt Elissa explained it to me. That’s why Mom and Dad sent me to them. Uncle Bennet and Aunt Elissa think it’s awful to own other people. I even understand that it is. I’m not supposed to do it, and I don’t want to do it anymore, and I start to do it anyway.”
I swallowed. “Own boys?”
“Own people. It’s the best—it’s the most—it—” She shook her head. “That’s wrong. That’s wrong. Oh, Nick.”
“Own people ...” I said, thinking about my mother and my father. My mother had made me feel like I was a part of her. My father seemed to think I belonged to him. I wasn’t sure either of them was wrong.
“I ...” she said, “I need to learn not to want to.” Her pulse was slowing under my fingers. “Or unlearn how to do it. Some lessons I was just too good at.” She took my hand and stroked the rough callus on her thumb’s outer edge along my palm and down my fingers, one at a time. “Some urges are hard to fight. I am so totally tempted to own you, Nick.”
A sliver of ice zipped down my spine. Some part of me wondered: what would that be like? If I did what she wanted—danced when she wished, wrote when and what she wished, followed her and served her in ways pleasant and uncomfortable? “No,” I said, my shoulders twitching. Though really wouldn’t it be more interesting to do what Willow wanted than what my father wanted? The demands were sure to be different.
“Well, I won’t,” she said. She raised my hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss into my palm. “I won’t own you. If I even started the procedure that makes you mine, my aunt and uncle would release you and punish me. I’m trying not to do anything to you. But then I get scared, and I’m not sure how to not start
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