Page 128 of Ruby Malice

He nods toward me. “For you. It’s a… a present.”

“Oh, Ilya. You don’t have to do that. You can keep it. You worked hard on it.”

He nods. “Friends give gifts.”

I smile shyly. “Am I your friend, Ilya?”

In response, he presses the build into my hands. “Rayne is nice. The most nice person I know.”

Tears burn at the backs of my eyes, but I fight them with some vigorous blinking. “Thank you so much, Ilya. You’re nice, too. The nicest.”

What Kirill said last night about people thinking Ilya is a monster or being afraid of him… I simply can’t understand it. Even the day I met him when he was in the midst of a breakdown, it was clear to me he was a sweet person going through a hard time.

It’s easy to understand why Kirill cares so deeply for him. It’s not just that they’re related; it’s that Ilya is a genuinely lovely soul.

His chest puffs up with pride at my compliment. Then he points to the window. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?” I ask, setting the Lego kit next to my bag to take home. I’m going to set it on top of my dresser.

“Swimming.”

“Oh, I didn’t think we were—You weren’t sure about that last week. And that wasn’t part of the plan for today,” I tell him. “Maybe we could read together instead. Or try those no-bake cookies in the kitchen.”

Sonya will be annoyed that we’re going to make a mess of the kitchen again, seeing as how she just got it cleaned up from breakfast’s banana pancake escapade. As far as I can tell, Ilya hasn’t made anything more complicated than cereal or toast in years, but he loves to cook. And just like the Legos, he has really taken to it. It’s good to see him stretch himself.

“Swimming,” Ilya insists. He takes a deep breath, which usually precedes one of his speeches. He doesn’t give them often, but as I get to know him, they’re becoming more and more common. “Kirill takes me. The beach is scary without him. I’m ready to go… with you.”

“Why is the beach scary without Kirill?” I ask.

“Everything is scary.”

My heart cracks open. How cruel has the world been to him that he’s scared of everything? That the beach right outside his window seems like a threat?”

“Lots of things aren’t scary, Ilya. I mean, you didn’t know me a few weeks ago. But now, you do and we’re friends. Was that scary?”

“Rayne is different,” he says firmly.

I shake my head. “I’m really not, Ilya. People all over are nice. Especially in this house. You can trust your family.”

Ilya’s brow furrows. He draws away from me, and I can see the anxiety building up inside of him. When you’re paying close attention, he gives plenty of warning signs.

I step forward and squeeze his hand. Just like we practiced, Ilya taps his finger against the back of my hand three times and then the back of his own three times. He does that twice more, turning my hand over in his large one until I start to feel him relax again.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Not Rayne. The monster,” he says. “He’s not nice.”

“There’s a monster?”

“With a hole in his face,” Ilya intones. “He’s not nice. And he’s in the house.”

As he talks, his voice grows higher. More childlike. And as it does, I can feel him slipping away from me a bit. Almost like a veil is sliding between us.

“Hey.” I squeeze his hand, trying to draw him back into the moment. “We can go swimming.”

Ilya blinks and the fog clears. His eyes are bright and his smile is wide again. He’s back. “We can?”

Kirill will hate this; I know that already. But maybe this is what I need to do to prove to him that Ilya can handle more than Kirill thinks. He’s capable. And so am I.

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