And if either of them preferred not to open up in the moment, all they had to do was answer out loud.
“I hope you haven’t finalized your plans for the summer,” said Will, out loud.
“My dad’s trying to book me a gig on a cruise ship. Is that depressing enough for you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Wait, it gets worse. Playing seventies cocktail lounge easy-listening top forty for vacationing upper-middle-class baby boomers. They’re retired, put out to pasture, watching the glaciers melt from a lame cruise ship like it’s some kind of halftime show, and this freakin’ generation still refuses to believe they’re not the center of the universe.”
Will grimaced at the thought. “You’re not seriously considering this.”
“Nah, I told him I’m holding out for a better offer,” she said, playing some dissonant chords. “Mucking out the stables of hell.”
“Don’t you have other options?”
“Sure. Teaching music to day camp first graders in Seattle for a fraction of the cruise ship scratch. During the course of which I might even learn the top ten ways to remove snot from a flutophone.” She played an off-key child’s ditty with one hand. “Or I could just drown myself in a swamp.”
“What if you just stayed here?” asked Will, trying to sound offhand.
“At the Center? And pay for it how? My parents can barely afford the regular year, let alone summer school—” She stopped playing, turned to him, on alert, and sent a thought request: Why are you asking?
Will moved closer, as if someone else might overhear his thoughts, and sent her a compressed mental download of their conversation with Nepsted about Hobbes, the Paladins, and the old photograph. Her eyes closed as she processed it, and when she opened them they lit up.
“This … is … a game changer,” she said, as close to awed as Will had ever heard her.
“We’re on the same page about that,” said Will.
“So what’s the plan, Stan?”
“We’re staying on campus. Nepsted gave us a lead on the key to his cage, in the tunnels below the Crag. If we find it, he says he’ll tell us everything he knows about the Knights and the Prophecy—and he knows a crap-ton.”
Elise gripped his arms and got right in Will’s face, her etched eyebrows arched high with excitement. “Listen. I will waitress at a Waffle House or sing happy hour show tunes at a trailer park rest home, but I promise you I will figure out some way to bank staying here, because you knuckleheads are not going down there this time without me.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” said Will with a grin.
“I’ve been waiting since Christmas for this,” she said.
Elise leaned in, grabbed Will’s face, and kissed him, then leaned back a few inches to gauge his reaction with a sly smile.
“Waiting for what?” asked Will. “To kiss me?”
“For us to get off our butts and put the hurt on these weasels. But you’re our leader, right? We figured you needed time to grieve, right, so none of us wanted to push you. But if you’re ready, if you’re really ready, then we are with you all the way.”
“That’s so great,” said Will, still holding on to her, their faces inches from each other.
“And, yes, I’ve been waiting to kiss you, bozo, since you always seemed too paralyzed to bust the first move. “
Will cleared his throat, trying his best not to look or sound awkward. “Okay, then. Uh, so what about Brooke?”
“Really, West? You’re going to ask me about Brooke right now? During this intimate thing we’re having here?”
“Well, no. First I was going to do this,” he said, and kissed her back.
Elise cleared her throat and held up a finger. Her forehead wrinkled, as if slightly puzzled; then she finally opened her eyes.
“Okay, then,” she said, and then smiled brightly, as if her short-term memory had been wiped clean. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Do you think Brooke will stick around this summer and help
“I hope you haven’t finalized your plans for the summer,” said Will, out loud.
“My dad’s trying to book me a gig on a cruise ship. Is that depressing enough for you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Wait, it gets worse. Playing seventies cocktail lounge easy-listening top forty for vacationing upper-middle-class baby boomers. They’re retired, put out to pasture, watching the glaciers melt from a lame cruise ship like it’s some kind of halftime show, and this freakin’ generation still refuses to believe they’re not the center of the universe.”
Will grimaced at the thought. “You’re not seriously considering this.”
“Nah, I told him I’m holding out for a better offer,” she said, playing some dissonant chords. “Mucking out the stables of hell.”
“Don’t you have other options?”
“Sure. Teaching music to day camp first graders in Seattle for a fraction of the cruise ship scratch. During the course of which I might even learn the top ten ways to remove snot from a flutophone.” She played an off-key child’s ditty with one hand. “Or I could just drown myself in a swamp.”
“What if you just stayed here?” asked Will, trying to sound offhand.
“At the Center? And pay for it how? My parents can barely afford the regular year, let alone summer school—” She stopped playing, turned to him, on alert, and sent a thought request: Why are you asking?
Will moved closer, as if someone else might overhear his thoughts, and sent her a compressed mental download of their conversation with Nepsted about Hobbes, the Paladins, and the old photograph. Her eyes closed as she processed it, and when she opened them they lit up.
“This … is … a game changer,” she said, as close to awed as Will had ever heard her.
“We’re on the same page about that,” said Will.
“So what’s the plan, Stan?”
“We’re staying on campus. Nepsted gave us a lead on the key to his cage, in the tunnels below the Crag. If we find it, he says he’ll tell us everything he knows about the Knights and the Prophecy—and he knows a crap-ton.”
Elise gripped his arms and got right in Will’s face, her etched eyebrows arched high with excitement. “Listen. I will waitress at a Waffle House or sing happy hour show tunes at a trailer park rest home, but I promise you I will figure out some way to bank staying here, because you knuckleheads are not going down there this time without me.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” said Will with a grin.
“I’ve been waiting since Christmas for this,” she said.
Elise leaned in, grabbed Will’s face, and kissed him, then leaned back a few inches to gauge his reaction with a sly smile.
“Waiting for what?” asked Will. “To kiss me?”
“For us to get off our butts and put the hurt on these weasels. But you’re our leader, right? We figured you needed time to grieve, right, so none of us wanted to push you. But if you’re ready, if you’re really ready, then we are with you all the way.”
“That’s so great,” said Will, still holding on to her, their faces inches from each other.
“And, yes, I’ve been waiting to kiss you, bozo, since you always seemed too paralyzed to bust the first move. “
Will cleared his throat, trying his best not to look or sound awkward. “Okay, then. Uh, so what about Brooke?”
“Really, West? You’re going to ask me about Brooke right now? During this intimate thing we’re having here?”
“Well, no. First I was going to do this,” he said, and kissed her back.
Elise cleared her throat and held up a finger. Her forehead wrinkled, as if slightly puzzled; then she finally opened her eyes.
“Okay, then,” she said, and then smiled brightly, as if her short-term memory had been wiped clean. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Do you think Brooke will stick around this summer and help
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