Page 22 of The Other Side of Together

I tiptoe-run to his desk beside the window and drop into the chair. When the door opens, I spin to face him, the room streaking around me before solidifying into lean, bare arms and shoulders in a tank top on a Marcus who closes the door behind him.

“Whoa,” he whispers, leaning his head back against the door, clutching a bundle of clothes and closing his eyes. He crosses to the hamper and tosses in the bundle. “Rescued your jacket. No evidence,” he whispers, “but I’ll wash it ‘cause I had to hide it in my hoodie and now it smells like fear. That was way too close.” He runs his hands through his hair.

“Am I not supposed to be here?”

“So…about that…” He lets out a long breath before pulling a fresh shirt out of his drawer and yanking it over his head. It feels like I’m watching him dress, so I shoot off the chair, eyes on the chalkboard wall. My ears stay behind to listen to every rustle he makes, my tattoo throbbing.

The floorboards creak as Marcus steps beside me, his arm brushing against mine. “To answer your question…” he whispers, “my dad doesn’t want girls here. Or anywhere near me.” His words land heavily on my head, then drop like rocks on my shoulders.

“Did something happen or…?”

“Yeah.” He nods and stares at the chalkboard wall. “My mom. She wrecked him and he’s…” Marcus pops his knuckles and rolls his neck. “He’s trying to protect me.”

“From girls.”

“Yep. My meemaw and my aunt are the only two girls allowed near me or in The Clubhouse.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble, so I’m going to leave.” Don’t want myself and my family in trouble, either.

“One big, fat problem,” he whispers. “There’s only one way out and Dad’s right by it. We’re in here until he goes tobed which could be awhile. He’s used to late nights. Plus…” He looks down at me. “I don’t want you to go.”

I think I swallowed a sparkler.

Pulling out my phone, I text Lin:

Mei: Cover for me.

I don’t have to wait for her reply to know she will. I move to Marcus’s closet, facing it to muffle my voice before dialing Mama’s number, and she answers on the third ring.

“Wéi?”

“May I have a later curfew? Lin and I are working on our final chemistry project that’s due tomorrow.” The lie pours out of me, pushed out by the thought of hanging out with Marcus a bit longer.

There’s a shuffle on the other side, a door clicks shut, and when Mama speaks again, her voice is hushed. “That is fine but be quiet when you get home. Understand?”

“Yes. Thank you.” I end the call and turn to Marcus. “I can stay for a bit.”

He grins. “Guess I’ll give you a very quiet tour of my world, then. This eye language thing is gonna come in handy, I think.”

He looks back to the chalkboard wall. “You should probably know that I draw on everything. Arms, legs…walls.” He motions toward the chalkboard. “My dad installed this after I drew all over the wall with Sharpie in Kindergarten,” he whispers.

I smile at the pie charts and diagrams scrawled across it, my pulse thumping in my neck. “What was your specialty?” I whisper back.

“Army guys. Koalas in hot-air balloons.”

“Wait—it’s on my bucket list to see a koala in a hot-air balloon, and you’re telling me there’s one just behind thischalkboard?” I frown-smile up at him, then look back to the board. “All I see is math.”

He smiles at the wall and rubs the back of his neck. “Probability.”

I point to a blank space. “Are you saving that for a really big koala?”

He tilts his head, squinting at the wall, then down at me. “I was,” he whispers, “but I’ve got a better idea.” Stepping to his nightstand, he pulls out a piece of chalk, then points to the empty space. “You should stand right there. And wave.”

I hesitate, then turn and press my back to it and hold my hand up. “Like this?”

His smile shoots light at me. “Exactly like that.”

He squats in front of me, tracing around my left foot, up the side of my leg which tenses, tingling when his hand brushes it. The chalk pauses at my hips before moving up my torso, but he hesitates at my chest and catches my eye.

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