Chapter Text
Rainier Lyon stood on his tiptoes as he combed his hair, looking in the bathroom mirror. He needed to tame every last frizzy auburn lock into submission. Today was a very important day. A new resident would be arriving at Peter Orphanage. Rainier had preemptively selected the new boy to become his best friend.
For all of elementary school, Rainier had been the last one picked for kickball games. During group projects, he sat at his desk alone until the teacher went around asking if anyone would take him in. The seats next to him at lunch were always empty. Making friends seemed to come easily to other children and characters in his books. Rainier had never quite been able to figure it out. But today would be different! Today Rainier would get in on the ground floor of friendship. This would be a fresh start with someone who hadn’t yet heard any of his unfortunate nicknames. He would swoop in before anyone else had the chance and be the most loyal and supportive friend ever.
Rainier winked at his own reflection, then skipped to the stairwell. A dozen other boys had already lined up at the railing, eager for a glimpse of the newcomer. Rainier slid into the very last space before the wall. Nervously, he nibbled on his nails.
Indecipherable words drifted from outside, between the social worker and Finn Peter, the orphan keeper. Then Finn walked in with a suitcase in one hand and the other on the back of a young boy.
Rainier gasped. While eavesdropping outside Finn’s office, he’d learned the new boy had been found starved and locked up in a basement, and no one even knew his name because he hadn’t spoken a word. At the time, Rainier had thought it sounded like an incredibly cool main character backstory. Seeing the aftereffects wiped away all the intrigue. The boy’s cheeks looked sunken and his arms like sticks. He had skin as dark as human pigment could get and white curly hair fluffing out like a cloud. His big eyes, such a dark brown as to nearly be black, stared off into nothing. Even in his bedraggled condition, he had an ethereal quality, as if he’d stepped through a fairy gate from another world.
Very strong main character energy, Rainier decided. And he was totally ready to play plucky sidekick if he could only get a chance.
Finn cleared his throat. “Meet the new boy,” he said gruffly. “He hasn’t given us a name yet, but his vocal cords seem to be working, so we’ll give him a few weeks before we slap one on him.”
From the crowd, someone shouted, “Why is his hair white?”
“Not sure.” Finn shrugged. “Stress or a vitamin deficiency, probably. Who’s going to volunteer to show him around?”
“Ooooooo!” Rainier waved his hand in the air as high as it would go.
Finn’s gaze shot over. “Rainier, your room has a free bed. He’ll be your new roommate. You’re in charge of him.”
Rainier nodded, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. Everything was going according to plan.
The new boy did not have any belongings, but the social worker had given him a suitcase with some essentials. Rainier lugged it down the hallway, chattering the whole way. “Hi! My name is Rainier Lyon. That’s Ray-neh-yeh.” He drew out the pronunciation of his foreign name because the unusualness of it made him feel special. “I like reading and watching TV. Double Helix is my favorite band. I don’t like sports, I keep getting hit with the ball. Don’t tell anyone, but I might be either the heir to a fairy kingdom or a super spy empire. I haven’t decided which is cooler yet. Hey, you don’t have parents either, so you could totally take whatever heirdom I don’t get. Actually, I’ll let you have first pick if you want.”
Rainier paused talking to push open the door. The room had two small single beds with green yarn blankets on top and two end tables. “I made your bed this morning because I thought you might be with me. We have to share a closet. I’ve got a couple Spy Seven action figures that I’ll let you play with. We’ll be sharing a lot of stuff from now on! I think that has some real friend energy. Maybe even best friends?” He paused hopefully.
The boy stared straight through him. Perhaps it had been too soon.
“It’s okay if you don’t talk! I’ll talk enough for both of us.” Rainier patted the boy on the back.
Over the next week, Rainier did everything for the new boy: coaxed him to dress in the morning, guided him to breakfast, filled up his plate with food, made sure he took the medication the social worker had left, walked him to school, showed him around the school, did his homework for him, and readied him for bed at night.
Finn Peter treated the orphanage he ran like a business. The children were kept in good condition, treated with equal indifference, and kicked out the day they turned eighteen years old. The first time the other boys had hit Rainier, Finn had stepped in strongly with harsh punishments and arranged for Rainier to get a separate room. But he’d made it clear that he didn’t care if they insulted or ostracized Rainier. The livestock only needed to be in good physical condition. The newest resident came with a larger government stipend because of his special needs. Finn had been perfectly happy to leave all of the new boy’s care to Rainier.
It was hard work, but Rainier felt rewarded by finally having someone to listen to all his stories. Sometimes Rainier read books to the new boy. Sometimes he told his own stories. Rainier loved to make up tales about his unknown parents. He’d been on a fantasy kick for a while, until recently he’d decided his parents had left him at the hospital as a baby because of their dangerous lives as spies. His father was a cool secret agent with a gadget in every pocket and a fake eye that shot lasers. His mother was the head of the evil enemy organization, with poisoned nails and a thousand secrets in her cybernetic implant. It was a star-crossed romance.
The boy sat on the side of the bed while Rainier combed his hair. The curls were beautiful and so thick that Rainier had already broken one comb. He worked carefully, holding each lock to avoid causing pain, as he chattered. “Did I ever tell you about the time my mom nearly conquered the world?”
There was no response. The boy sat so still, he might have been a life-sized doll.
No answer meant it was fine to keep talking, right? “It all started when my mother genetically engineered an army of genius shark-dolphin hybrids. They were as big as trucks with teeth on their fins.”
Rainier flinched. His nose wrinkled. He hated the smell of the new laundry detergent the orphanage had started using lately. Finn had told him to suck it up and deal because the new stuff was cheaper. The intense earthy aroma gave Rainier a headache. His clothing itched more, too. He scratched at his arms. Rainier hated bright lights, and the sun shining through the window was becoming too much. Between the smell and the light, it felt like he was being scraped all over his skin with pointy acrylic nails.
The comb slipped from his grip. Tears poured down his cheeks. Hands over his eyes, Rainier rocked back and forth, gasping. Air…he couldn’t breathe…he needed air…
Two warm hands placed on either side of his head. The boy said, “Breathe in, breathe out. Can you breathe alongside me?” He demonstrated. “One, two, three, breathe in. One, two, three, breathe out.”
Rainier felt so surprised about his roommate talking, it shocked him out of the sensory overload. He gulped in deep breaths of air, then whispered, “Thanks.” What a terrible impression to make on his prospective friend. He hung his head, scared of being called a baby again.
Instead, the boy pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking his hair.
“You can talk?” Rainier asked with a squeak.
“Of course I can talk. I was just figuring out the situation before I revealed anything.”
Rainier nodded. He didn’t understand, but that sounded like something a cool spy would say. He pulled back to meet the other boy’s gaze. “What’s your name?”
“No one ever gave me one.”
“That’s awful,” Rainier said. Names were very important, how could you ever get carried off by fairies to have adventures without one? “Can I give you a name?”
The boy regarded him with assessing eyes. “Depends on what name you come up with.”
Now that the pressure was on, Rainier’s mind went blank. The name needed to be something cool and fitting. It should have star quality. Looking at the boy’s beautiful white hair, he tried, “Blanchard?”
“Hmm. Blanchard.” The boy rolled the name around on his tongue as if tasting every syllable. “It sounds like a leader’s name. I like it. What about a last name?”
That was even harder. Rainier didn’t know any last names that didn’t belong to other people or fictional characters. Vaguely he recalled that Blanchard could also be a last name, but no one wanted to be Blanchard Blanchard. It did not have main character energy, just stupid energy. He didn’t feel right about gifting someone else’s family name. Who was he to create a tie like that, even to a fictional character? Could any character be cool enough to be worthy? In the end, Rainier decided that the only last name he had the right to give away was his own. “What about Blanchard Lyon?”
“You’re giving me your last name?” Blanchard’s eyes widened. “Do you know what that means?”
“Does it mean we’re friends?” Rainier asked hopefully.
“It means you have to stay with me forever, you have to do what I say, and you’re mine.”
Even Rainier, with his inexperience in friendship, thought this sounded odd. But it felt nice to be wanted. Rainier had given up on being adopted long ago. Whenever prospective parents visited the orphanage, they first inquired after the health of the children. No one wanted a difficult child. Rainier had “high-functioning autism” stamped on his file like a scarlet A. He’d grown older than parents usually preferred, too. Even the other kids didn’t like him. If no one wanted him, then why not accept the only person who did?
Rainier nodded. “Okay!”
Blanchard grinned, wild and fierce and with too much teeth. Imperially, he held out his palm and ordered as if to a dog, “Hand.”
Rainier offered his hand. Blanchard smiled even wider at being obeyed and shook. “I’ll look after you from now on,” he promised. “I used to look after that woman, but she still left me in the end. Even though I was the one who had to turn her sideways so she didn’t choke on her vomit and hide the coins so we could buy food. You won’t leave me, will you?”
A very deep pain lurked behind those few sentences. Rainier teared up. “I won’t! I promise!” He hinted, “Friends never abandon each other, that’s what they say on TV.”
“Good,” Blanchard said, his anger fading.
Rainier’s heart soared, because his claim at being friends hadn’t been denied. The friendship plan had been a smashing success.
Finn easily accepted and recorded Blanchard’s new name. He either thought it was a coincidence that the two boys rooming together had the same last name, or more likely, he didn’t care as long as he had something to put on the paperwork.
Once Blanchard started talking, it was as if a light switch had flicked on. Suddenly he tackled his studies with desperate intensity to catch up. His teachers were happy to help, and he knew just what to say to make them like him. Perhaps there had been a purpose to his silent research. The other kids liked Blanchard too. No, that wasn’t the right word. The other kids seemed scared of offending Blanchard. Rainier was enjoying the time of his life, since he finally got included in group projects and sports games. Everyone wanted Blanchard, which meant Rainier got to tag along.
As Blanchard sat at the dining room table and read through an entire textbook at an astonishing speed, Rainier peered over his shoulder and asked, “Isn’t that boring?” Secretly he wanted to go outside and play, but could not abandon his friend. Literally could not— Blanchard had tied their wrists together with some twine last time Rainier had tried to wander off. Rainier had decided this was a game and was working on getting the knots loose, but there sure were a lot of them.
Blanchard glanced up. “Standardized tests are pointless, but they will affect my ability to get into college later. I need to pick the right college in order to obtain political connections.”
“You want to become a politician?”
“It’s necessary to become a politician,” Blanchard corrected. “Money is important, but power is even more important. If you don’t have power then someone can take everything away from you in a flash. I might try for president. I can’t settle for anything less than senator.”
“Can I be vice-president?” Rainier asked hopefully, bouncing on his toes.
“I assumed you’d stay at home. You’re my person, so there’s no need for you to work. Someday, we’re going to have a beautiful house surrounded by guards.”
“That would be boring!” Rainier protested. “If you won’t let me be vice-president, then I’m going to become a super cool spy with loads of gadgets.” He bounced higher. “I’m gonna have an invisible car that can sprout a helicopter propellor on top and fly—”
The faucet in the kitchen turned on, probably someone getting a glass of water. That boy shouted, “Ugh, would you stop with the babbling, you retard?”
Rainier shut his mouth and sat down, hanging his head. He didn’t dare look at Blanchard for fear his only friend had gotten equally annoyed with him. Instead he gnawed on his nails as quietly as he could. When he finally dared raise his head, he saw Blanchard staring at the kitchen door with a very cold expression.
That evening, over dinner, one of the boys choked on his meal. Eyes streaming, he guzzled an entire glass of water, then his neighbor’s water too, then grabbed the pitcher.
There had been hot sauce in his sandwich. The prank didn’t rise to the level of Finn caring about it. Rainier had been pretty certain he’d recognized the voice of the boy who’d insulted him.
He turned to look at Blanchard, who gazed at the scene with a cool amusement.
When they were safely back in their room, Rainier asked, “Did you spike the sandwich with hot sauce?”
Blanchard shrugged. “A swollen tongue will make him think more about what he says.”
“You didn’t have to do that. People say stuff all the time. I just ignore them.”
“That will only make them think you’re weak. If someone hits me, then I hit them back twice as hard. And if someone hits my friend, then I hit them three times as hard.”
Rainier smiled. In spite of his token protest, it felt good to have someone defend him. “Thanks.”
“I promised to protect you.” Blanchard scooted over on the bed and commanded, “Hand.”
Rainier held out his hand.
Blanchard took both hands with his own. Very seriously, he said, “This is my vow to you. I will always stay by your side: for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. Even if you go to the depths of hell, I will follow you. Nothing can separate us.”
Rainier blinked, trying to figure out what game they were playing.
Blanchard prodded, “Your turn.”
“Um…I will always stay by your side, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer…” Rainier couldn’t remember the last part. “I will follow you into the depths of hell.”
Blanchard smiled and kissed his forehead. “It’s done.”
Rainier smiled too, because he liked make-believe games and because it felt nice to have someone look at him like that, as if he was the center of the universe.
Days turned into weeks, then months, then years. The first year of high school had brought a new uniform, a longer bus commute, and an earlier morning start. One thing hadn’t changed: Rainier’s bullies.
Rainier watched from the doorway as Teigan poured dirt across his desk. He debated if he should come in when Teigan started dumping the dirt inside too. It wasn’t yet worth it. Textbooks could be replaced or even just cleaned off.
When Teigan dropped the box of dirt on his own shoes, Rainier laughed.
Teigan looked up with a curse on his lips. For a brief moment, he seemed nervous about being caught, then he saw it was only Rainier and his face relaxed. He stormed over. “What are you looking at?”
“Three out of ten bullying,” Rainier said. “The damage to my books is entirely superficial—you didn’t even rub the dirt into the pages. I could wipe it off easily. I demand a higher quality of bullying than this.”
Teigan scrunched up his forehead. “Listen, freak—”
“Ah, freak, I’ve never heard that one before.” Rainier pantomimed slapping his forehead. “Wait, sorry, that’s the insult I’ve been hearing since elementary school. Two out of ten.”
“Shut up, uggo!”
“That’s a little more original, but I can’t go higher than a two point five, and that’s a generous score because at least you tried. Have you considered getting personal with your insults? For example, call me something that couldn’t be applied to yourself too.”
Words having failed him, Teigan raised his fist. Rainier leaned slightly, so the fist would hopefully hit him in the eye, a beautiful shiner that would look tragic in a photograph.
Unfortunately, right before the fist could connect, Blanchard smashed out of the closet and kicked Teagan in the head.
Rainier sighed. Alas, Blanchard was always too overprotective. It would have been a perfect opportunity. Oh, well, they had enough evidence already.
After years of nutritious if not delicious food, Blanchard had shot up into the tallest kid in class. His basketball and martial arts training had developed his muscles. He had a naturally beautiful face: large eyes, pronounced cheekbones, flawless skin, and plump lips. But no real angel had such darkness lurking in his eyes.
Even as Teigan smacked into the floor, Blanchard kicked him again, then stepped on his head, pinning him to the ground.
“What the hell are you doing?” Teigan cried.
“Beating you?” Blanchard ground his foot down. “Did hitting a few younger kids make you mistakenly think that you’re a good fighter? Tch. You’re pathetic.”
“Actually, we’ve been collecting evidence,” Rainier said. He pulled out his phone to flash through the photos: Teigan stealing his shoes, pissing on his gym clothing, ripping up his notebook, dumping a bucket of ice water on him from the second floor, and many other boring incidents. “We have two weeks of you bullying me in here. I also recorded some of your most politically incorrect insults. That could affect your ability to get into college.”
Blood streaming from his face, Teigan shouted, “I never hit you! You struck me first! My parents’ lawyers will see you and your pet freak expelled. Or better yet, in a juvenile detention facility.”
Alas, they had a weak self-defense case since they’d hit first. Rainier and Blanchard exchanged glances, the former conveying, You should have controlled yourself and the latter replying, Plan B is more fun, anyway.
Time for Plan Psycho. Rainier sighed. “Blanchard, gag him first.” It was after school and there was no one around except a janitor who always followed the same routine and would be on the other side of the building right now. Still, it paid to be careful.
Blanchard yanked off his headband and shoved it into Teigan’s mouth. He straddled the shorter boy, using his knees to pin down his arms.
Teigan still looked more angry than scared, struggling against the heavier weight pinning him. Rainier crouched down and smiled angelically. “Shall I let you in on a trade secret, you second-rate bully? There are two kinds of people you should never bully. First of all, people more powerful than you. Secondly, people with nothing to lose.”
Clearly baffled, Teigan glared.
Rainier continued, “I know what you’re thinking—you want so badly to bully the pathetic orphans who dared sneak into your fancy school on a scholarship. Tormenting people has been easy fun for you so far. But all your past victims, they had stuff to lose: they didn’t want their parents to find out, they tried to save their pride by laughing it off, they had other possessions they feared you might destroy next, they were scared of your rich mommy and daddy. But us? We’re gutter trash. We don’t care about punishment. Our lives would probably be more comfortable in a juvenile detention facility. That time you tripped me, Finn told me to just walk the bruises off. At least in jail I’d have access to medical services.”
Blanchard said, “Would you believe I found out our guardian has been receiving money to send me to therapy for years and never once did it? Finn just pocketed the money. You’d probably be doing me a favor sending me to juvie where I could finally get help. Maybe after the doctors fixed my brain, I would learn what guilt feels like and apologize to your grave.”
“I dunno, I like you how you are,” Rainier said. “Besides, I’m pretty sure a professional psychiatrist would only teach you how to better manipulate people.”
“He says the sweetest things,” Blanchard said to Teigan, who gaped at them both.
Rainier stood up. “Consequences mean nothing to people already at the rock bottom. If we’re going to get in trouble anyway, then it might as well be for something more fun than merely beating you up.”
At this point, Teigan started to sweat. He thrashed harder against the boy on top of him.
“I’ve always wanted to find out how many stabs it takes with a pen to remove someone’s eye. Yes, it’s a very strange dream, but we pitiful orphans must find ways to make our sad lives worth living.” Blanchard pulled a ballpoint pen out of his back pocket. As Teigan watched with wide eyes, he clicked the point. Then he brought the pen down in a savage motion—
“STOP!” Rainer shouted.
The pen stopped just a finger’s length away from Teigan’s pupil. The terrified bully burst into tears, no longer even trying to struggle, as boneless as a butchered chicken.
Rainer said, “That’s my pen. Do you think the bloodstains would ever come off? Use your own pen.”
“Oh, fine.” Blanchard handed over the pen and pulled out a mechanical pencil instead. “This will probably do. It might take a few more stabs.”
Teigan sobbed and screamed into the gag.
“Wait, I think he wants to say something,” Rainier said. “Let’s take out the gag.”
“Awww, spoilsport,” Blanchard said. Glaring down at Teigan, he said, “If you scream after I remove the gag, then I’ll give you something worse to scream about.”
Blanchard was a little too good at playing the part of the psycho. Rainier was only acting, with no intention of going through with it. He suspected his friend would enjoy doing it.
As soon as he could speak, Teigan whimpered, “Please, I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.”
Rainier rolled his eyes. “You think we want apologies?”
Blanchard made the universal money symbol, rubbing his thumb against his finger. “Settle this how rich people always settle it. With money.”
“We’ve calculated everything you owe us for destroying my belongings.” Rainier held up his calculator, then added, “With additional emotional damages.” The figure increased by an order of magnitude. “We’ll accept payments in installments.”
“He’ll accept installments,” Blanchard said. “If you take longer than a few weeks, I’m likely to add the price of ruining my pencil with your bleeding, putrid eye.” He clicked the mechanical pencil around his victim’s face, each sound eliciting a flinch. “Here’s the shorter version of Rainier’s speech: don’t try to bully someone more psycho than you.”
Teigan could not take his eyes off the pencil. “I-I’ll have the money tomorrow. A-anything you want.”
“I suppose you’re probably thinking about running to the teachers as soon as we let you go,” Rainier said. “Go on. Try it. I’ve never been good at getting along with other kids, but adults like me.” He burst into tears and said in a high-pitched voice, “T-Teigan has been bullying me all year, I’ve been too scared to tell anyone. I…I don’t know why he’d lie about me. Maybe it’s a new game. Please help me, I don’t know what to do.”
With amusement, Blanchard said, “Rainier can cry on command. Good luck convincing the teachers that the class angel threatened you. Especially when they’ve already noticed the other kids you bullied. No one is doing anything about it until they’re forced to confront the issue.”
Rainier said, “I’m sure in the long run, you’d win. Rich parents with expensive lawyers and all that. But it would take time. All the pictures and evidence are on our side. While the case is being decided, we’d be free to do whatever we want. And unlike us, you have so much to lose. Your eyes, your face, your life, your sanity. A beautiful white house with your parents, your little sister, and your dog. I find that the homes of rich and poor people burn at the same temperature.”
Teigan ended the conversation by fainting.
As they walked home, Rainier complained, “It would have been a lot easier and less risky if we’d just stuck to blackmailing him with the photos as we originally planned. You should have let him hit me.”
“You should have ducked.” Blanchard snorted. “You getting beaten up wasn’t part of my plan.”
“I’ll duck next time,” Rainier acknowledged. He knew his friend’s limits.
Though they weren’t planning a next time, it seemed likely to happen anyway. Rainier didn’t try to attract bullies. They just happened. It was some quality of his that he’d never been able to fix, even though he’d gotten better at interacting with his classmates over the years. It could have been the autism. It could have been the nails bitten to a stub and the acne. It could have been because he was too poor to afford the right clothes or accessories. After discovering that the process of gathering evidence and reporting a bully, including all the people asking what he’d done to deserve it, was more onerous than the bullying itself, Rainier had figured out how to turn it into a money-making opportunity. He’d rather have the cash than punishment.
Blanchard didn’t like using Rainier as the bait. But no one was stupid enough to ever try to bully Blanchard. Although, Rainier suspected at least half of his bullies had been people with crushes on his friend who resented how Blanchard only ever paid attention to one person.
Saying the two of them had nothing to lose had been a lie. They’d worked hard for their scholarships. The money they’d been collecting was for college expenses. Blanchard still had his carefully planned political ambitions. Rainier had been only bluffing—he didn’t even know how to commit arson. They analyzed their targets carefully, making sure to only blackmail cowards who would buckle with a few threats. The one bully they’d deemed a real problem had gotten expelled for cheating without the two of them ever revealing their involvement.
Blanchard didn’t have any strong concerns even if they did get in trouble. He said that a criminal record was easy to get sealed at their age, and besides he could spin a stint in juvie as a tragic backstory. Rainier would have been willing to keep his head down and tolerate the bullying to avoid risk, but he knew he had to stop it from escalating or his best friend might actually stab out someone’s eye.
In Rainier’s opinion, Blanchard was a little too blasé about the danger. He nudged his friend. “Remember, if you go to juvie, then I’d follow you there even if I had to stab someone with a broken bottle in public to convince our teachers that I’m criminal material.”
Blanchard chuckled and nudged back. “I know. Give me at least a few days to break out first.”
They arrived home in time for dinner: all the salad and leek casserole they could eat. Finn had long ago figured out that kids ate less when the meals didn’t taste good, thus lowering his costs. They’d also been using their blackmail money to supplement their food supply.
As soon as they reached their bedroom, they shoved the beds together and took out their snacks from various hiding places. They used to always leave their beds touching, because Blanchard had horrible nightmares about being all alone. It reassured him to wake up with Rainier sleeping next to him. Then a social worker during an inspection had labeled them as “co-dependent.” Finn didn’t care what the children did, but got upset if anyone noticed something wrong. After that, Blanchard had analyzed a lot of TV characters and imitated them until his behavior could pass as more normal. They’d stopped tying their hands together. They separated the beds in the morning. They at least talked to the other kids. The adults had seemed satisfied.
While they munched on potato chips and apples, they poured over their notebook of future house plans. It included several different designs and clippings of magazine furniture they’d liked. Rainier had recently added an awesome double-headed shower and a cedarwood dresser with a secret compartment that popped out the side. Spy furniture would be extremely cool.
“I still prefer the courtyard design.” Rainier pointed at the floor plan for a house with a square cut out in the middle, exposed to the sun. “Wouldn’t it be amazing to have our own private, secret garden? We could build glass walls around the courtyard to let in loads of natural sunlight, and we wouldn’t need curtains because no one can see into the middle of the house.”
“We’d lose space, but I’ll just make the house bigger. We’re going to be rich, after all,” Blanchard said. “I want a fountain in the courtyard.”
“And a hammock, of course.” Rainier flipped to the page with the plan for the master bedroom. “We’ll need two walk-in closets. I plan to own a lot of clothing.”
“Done. I know you always say that tall fences look ugly, but I found a new idea.” Blanchard held up a picture of a white fence with roses growing between the square holes. “Doesn’t it look pretty? It won’t block the light. If I make it an electric fence then it should be equally good at keeping people out.”
“You and your obsession with security,” Rainier said fondly. “Oh, fine.”
After they’d finished eating, Blanchard held out his hands. “It’s time for our oath.”
Rainier took both hands. Together, they recited, “I will always stay by your side: for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. Even if you go to the depths of hell, I will follow you. Nothing can separate us.”
Although Rainier did realize the game had gotten a bit odd at their age, it helped Blanchard sleep at night. It was an old tradition between them. So what if other people wouldn’t understand? They only needed each other. Just as Blanchard had always accepted Rainier’s strangeness, Rainier would accept anything in return.
“I have a gift for you.” Blanchard removed a silver ring from his pocket. It had a simple hammered finish and the names “Rainier & Blanchard Lyon” engraved inside.
Rainier gasped. “This looks like real silver! We can’t afford to take so much out of our college fund.”
“I didn’t take anything from our fund. I wouldn’t buy you a gift with money you earned yourself.”
“Then how did you make the money?”
“That’s a secret.” Blanchard slid the ring onto the fourth finger of Rainier’s left hand. “I know this isn’t a very expensive gift. Someday, I’m going to give you so much more than this.” He raised Rainier’s hand to his lips and kissed it, right on top of the ring. “I’m going to become rich, powerful, and important. Right now I have nearly nothing. As soon as I can, I’ll replace this ring with one covered in diamonds. When we’re grown up, I’m going to give you the entire world.”
“I don’t need the world. You don’t need money for me to stay by your side. In richer and poorer, remember?” Rainier seized Blanchard’s hand and kissed the back in return.
“I know.” Blanchard smiled. “But you deserve the world anyway.”
Even after they prepared for bed and lay down, Rainier didn’t take off his ring. He kept glancing at it excitedly. A ring was a romantic gesture. He wasn’t stupid enough to miss that. What did that mean going forward?
Blanchard had been Rainier’s entire world since elementary school. As puberty had hit, Rainier had started to notice puberty had been very kind to his best friend. He had no idea what to do with these feelings. Sex-ed at the Peter Orphanage had been purely heterosexual with the message of “stay abstinent or you’ll die of an STD.” The internet was full of interesting information, but too overwhelming and more than he felt ready for.
It was inevitable that Rainier and Blanchard would end up together, like the moon rotating the earth or the tide coming in. No one else could ever possibly come between them. They had no space for a third person in their lives. Rainier had total confidence that even if they fumbled along their way to figuring it out, that would only be a temporary inconvenience. They never argued for longer than a day, always making up before their oath at night. The two of them belonged to each other. There would be all the time in the world for them to move to the next stage.
They feel asleep next to each other, still holding hands. Which resulted in a painful case of pins-and-needles the next morning.
Rainier had already decided that Blanchard needed a ring in return, but was in the throes of indecision about what to purchase. Although Blanchard would be thrilled with any cheap ring, Rainier would have felt extremely guilty about the inequity. However, Rainier was too pragmatic to run off and buy expensive jewelry out of their college fund, and he hadn’t been saving up money separately. Stealing would not be worth the risk of getting caught.
In the end, Rainier decided that only sentiment could outweigh money. He would buy a block of wood and a book on carving, then create his own ring. In his mind’s eye, he had already crafted a beautiful design with a dozen engraved wooden versions of diamonds running around the band. Although realistically he’d be lucky if he could make it symmetrical.
As Rainier stepped out of the store, a low-pitched whine pierced the evening air.
He glanced over, expecting to see a puppy. Instead, a mother and daughter had turned to look at him. They both held ice cream cones. The little girl, who couldn’t possibly be older than ten, had gripped hers so tightly the sticky liquid spilled over her fist. She didn’t seem to notice. Staring straight at him, she licked her fangs. Her eyes gleamed yellow.
Were they werewolves? Most werewolves stayed inside the compound around their embassy. They were more common downtown than in the suburbs were the orphanage was located. Rainier didn’t think he’d ever met one before, though he couldn’t automatically tell by looking. He glanced over his shoulder, but he did not see anyone behind him. The werewolves appeared to be staring straight at him.
Maybe he smelled bad. Maybe he’d accidentally been flapping his hands again and caught their eye. It felt silly to be concerned about a mother and child out for a treat. But they hadn’t blinked even once.
Rainier hailed a ride on his phone and paid extra for speedy arrival. He felt sorry for taking the money out of their joint account. But money was less important than survival. Both Rainier and Blanchard would agree on that.
The mother walked over. “What a pleasure to meet you.” Her smile looked normal except for the tendril of drool hanging from her mouth.
“Nice to meet you,” Rainier mumbled, gazing down the street in desperate hopes his car would arrive faster. He was sweating so hard even his human nose could smell it.
Instead, Rainier saw a man step around the curve of the road. Then two women appeared by the fire hydrant, so fast it was as if they’d materialized out of thin air. There was no reason to think any of these new people were werewolves. Except they had all fixed him with the same hungry gaze.
“You smell very good,” the little girl said. She jerked, as if about to lunge.
Her mother held out a hand to stop her. “We don’t say that about people,” she scolded, sounding all the world like a normal mother. Her smile was gentle, but it could not hide the predator in her eyes. “What’s your name, young man?”
More people had materialized as if cast by the rays of the setting sun, forming a circle around him bisected by the street. The low growl filling the air did not sound hostile. More…hungry.
Rainer leapt into his ride share car before it even stopped moving, slammed the door, and locked it. “I’ll tip you double your price if you step on the gas,” he pleaded.
He stared out the back window, but the strangers did not follow him. Nor did they take their eyes off the retreating car.