Page 20 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
“It’s more than that, though. Don’t you think?” I ask.
“It is.” He nods. “Well, okay, so I can’t explain why I think I can share stuff with you in confidence, but I was dating a guy a few years ago,” he starts.
I almost trip over a root. I don’t go through life assuming that everyone is straight, but I hadn’t thought about Justice’s sexuality. Now, as he talks, I’m picturing him kissing some guy, and I don’t like that image one bit.
I clench my teeth.
Then I take a deep breath.What the hell, Kalle? Are you homophobic?
No, I know I’m not.
Whatever guy Justice is talking about—at least he’s referring to the man in the past tense—he wasn’t good enough for Justice. I’ve only just met Justice, but I know that he deserves to date the best.
Justice is still talking as my thoughts enter the next realm. I pull them back and listen. “He came here—to, what do you call it, regular Oregon, or whatever?—and he asked me about all my possessions, like books I owned or postcards I had received that I’d hung up around a mirror in my room. It seemed like he was searching for something. We eventually ran out of stuff for him to ask about, because I don’t own much—I try to be a minimalist. But one day I discovered some of my letters were missing, and I never saw him again. My mother thought he was fae, and he had stolen a memory from me along with the letters. Ever since, I’ve been searching for their realm to get it back.”
A rock settles in the pit of my stomach. The fae had no right. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry he did that.” I want to ask if he at least knows the subject matter of the memory—it’s clearly something that matters to him if he’s devoting this much effort to recovering it. But instead I ask, “Why are you a minimalist?”
Justice picks up a long stick and starts scraping it along the ground. “It suits me.”
“So you own nothing?”
“I try not to own more than I need. Like, I own one pair of jeans. These.” He gestures. “But they are $200 selvedge jeans from Japan, and I got them when I was there on a trip. I rarely wash them.”
Quirky. “You just rewear them?”
“Basically. I put them in the freezer if they get stinky, to kill any bacteria.”
“What do you wear while they’re freezing?”
“I have other clothes. I just try to think before I buy. For example, I have more than one shirt, but the wool ones are made by companies that raise their own sheep. When you buy the shirt, they tell you which sheep the wool came from.”
“I like that. Okay. This is fascinating to me,” I admit. “You wouldn’t like the excess of Huckleberry Castle.” I pause, considering. “Although it is made almost entirely of materials found nearby, so maybe it would be okay.”
He shrugs. “I’d like to see it. My choices don’t mean I can’t enjoy what exists. But I want to have a smaller footprint on the earth.” He gestures at a metal cup hanging off his day pack. “I use this one cup for everything. I don’t shame the patrons at the café who want their drinks to go, but I never use paper cups myself.”
“I like it.” He’s fascinating.
Hazel gives me a reproachful look, reminding me we should keep moving. But I want to talk with Justice. Still, she’s right, and we start walking down the hill to the meadow. The forest changes to be more shaded and wet, and we hear the song of a stream to the side. “What do you do when you’re not searching for the Fae Realm or making coffee?” I ask.
Justice tosses his stick into the underbrush. “Art. Cooking. And I skateboard.”
“What kind of art?” I ask. I should have him go back and tell me more about this hunt to get his memory back, but he’s said too many interesting things since then. I must know all about him.
“Pixel art.” His cheeks redden slightly. Is he embarrassed?
“What is that?” I frown.
“It’s like making a picture out of blocks. The rectangles or squares, all in one color each, create an image. And I use as few blocks as possible.”
“I’d love to see your art,” I say, heat radiating through my chest.
“Then come by my place sometime,” Justice says. “I’ll show you.”
I try not to sound too eager when I say, “I’d like that.”
We end up on the other side of the ridge, overlooking the neighboring realm of Icedonia. The perpetual snowcaps are glistening white despite the warmer, breezy, early summer air.
“How come you’re here?” Justice asks. “I mean, how come you’re staying at the Renversé Hotel? And yes, I know I’m changing the subject.”
