Page 9 of Quiet
“Ryan felt that if we’re doing a steampunk version ofMuch Ado About Nothing, we might as well own it.” Isa rubbed the bridge of his nose and left a streak of copper across it. The color enhanced the boy’s light gray eyes, and the effect made Briar think of starlight. “I know they’re ridiculous, but I also think it’s kind of fun. Like, what could a mechanical bush do? Fight off intruders? Keep dogs off your lawn?”
Explode and burn your house down . . .Briar thought.
Isa chuckled softly and continued to fill in the outline of the smaller gears supporting the base of the bush.
This.
This was why Briar couldn’t bring himself to go. It could have been a coincidence—Isa guessing what Briar was thinking. The prop they were working on was outlandish enough to inspire conversation about its purpose, but they’d been working together silently for half an hour before Isa spoke just now. As if he’d been answering Briar’s thoughts.
Briar would have brushed it off if it had been the first time it had happened, or the second, but it was the eighth time in less than three hours. Briar had known people for years who’d never done it once.
Also, Isa’s voice wasn’t itchy. Nor did it add to the static and clutter the world kept constantly trying to shove into Briar’s head. Instead, it was soothing.
Isa’s friends were . . . okay. A bit clingy and codependent, but most artists Briar knew were extra in one way or another. Briar himself was no exception.
He also liked that Isa and his friends didn’t ask for Briar’s story. Didn’t act like they were entitled to an explanation for why Briar presented as someone outside social norms. That was also soothing.
Briar’s world was small, but it was also very rich. He didn’t need a lot of people in his life. He had his mom and aunt—both of them were easy to talk to. His brother Cedar was less so but still someone important in Briar’s life. He also had all his housemates—especially Alex and Bea. Both were imminently tolerable and very chill about Briar’s differences.
As soon as Alex had met him, he’d started learning ASL so they could communicate better. It had taken a while before his friend realized signing was only slightly less difficult for Briar than talking. But since Alex had made an effort, Briar had too.
As he’d gotten to know the couple, Briar was able to communicate with them almost as well as he could with his brother.
Briar had a family. He had friends. And he had art.
So, why did he feel like he was on the verge of discovering something important?
Briar’s pocket buzzed and he pulled out his phone.
Alex:What happened, man? Did you get kidnapped by the fae?
Briar:Helping Isa so he’ll be free tomorrow
Alex:…You’re still with Isa?!
Briar:Yes
Alex:You made a new friend! Does this make up for when I hit you with a wrench earlier?
Briar:No
Alex:I’m going to have to get you cake aren’t I?
Briar:Yes
With sprinkles.
Alex:Obviously. I have known you for more than 5 minutes
Briar snorted and put his phone away. Today was a good day. They finally found the right model, Briar got to see Protest Boy again—something he hadn’t realized he’d even wanted until he saw him standing in the hallway, staring at Briar’s latest piece—and when he got back to his house, he was getting cake.
Briar shifted and scooted over so he could work on shading the copper gears Isa just finished outlining. But the tired boy next to him was sprawled out, taking up all the space, so Briar took Isa’s outstretched leg, lifted it and tucked it next to the boy’s other leg so it would be out of his way.
Isa dropped his paintbrush.
Briar picked it up and handed it to him, then began shading the stupidest bush in the world.
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