Velli

Fate’s choice of dream to torture me with is always something special, at least in his eyes. Its purpose is to bring up old wounds or to remind me how the world sees me. The scene he sets now is another reminder of why I must not fail to get powers.

It was our fourth “field trip,” our stupid name for our volunteer vigilantism. Our group of friends captured a monster of a man that was torturing a neighborhood full of the powerless and Cursed. A wicked thing with the ability to appear from letters on any surface and pull its victim to its nest, a tattered paperback book.

I laid the plan for it, of course. A risky, low-probability-of-survival escapade that almost cost four of us our lives, including mine. And it worked. We won. When Amelia tossed the indestructible book into a portal leading to the Pacific Ocean and the portal closed, we looked at one another in disbelief. This was big—not only the defeat of the Man Made of Letters, but we had no casualties, everyone put in a great amount of work, and the level of detail it took to accomplish it was incredible. We all buzzed weightlessly, like a gust of wind tickled us on a summer day and took away every problem we would ever have in life.

Life was good, and our victory over the Man Made of Letters was just a pregame. We had to party for real. We gathered in a circle around the rubble to see what we should do next. Keep the party going was the consensus. We moved like a flock to Major’s house. Like a pack of—I guess, what we were—kids who’d found their purpose in life and loved it. We screamed, laughed, and recounted every event from our fight. Lots of:

“Did you see when I…?”

“I thought he was going to kill you!”

“I knew he wasn’t getting past you!”

We rushed into Major’s place and took to exploring as soon as he said words one should never say to adrenaline-filled teenagers—“Make yourselves at home.” We ran through every inch of the house, exploring and giving funny critiques that only friends could make. Like noting Major’s affinity for putting posters of his favorite singers from his favorite band in every room.

Eventually, we made it to his backyard. We found this inflatable swimming pool he hadn’t used in years. It had a couple of holes in it, and we got to work. In what felt like five minutes but could have been an hour, we patched the thing up and enjoyed the hot summer day, playing chicken in the pool.

Shells and I were a team. Shells was a tiny guy, just cracking five feet, with literal button eyes, skin made of silk, and a shocking amount of self believe. He sat on my shoulders in the pool as he wrestled any and all pairings of competitors. Four wins straight, we were impossible to beat, and it felt like it. Shells told me he needed a break, and I let my winner’s high lead me to seek out another victory. I swam to the other side of the pool. Just outside the water, a pretty Black girl sat under a tree by herself. The leaves kept the sun off her and masked her in shadow so she looked like a forgotten character in a stage play. But I had my eyes on her the whole time. As far as I was concerned, she was in the spotlight. Every chance I got, I looked over at Dream to make sure she was watching. She was.

Dream was an active member of our group, and yet no one knew her that well. Initially, Dream lacked the presence and wit she had in our online chats. She much more resembled her TV personality when she was interviewed and asked about Rose—pleasant, quiet, and standoffish. The others assumed it was because she thought she was better than us. I had a good gauge on Dream, though—she didn’t think she was better than anybody. Quite the opposite, and that was why she was so shy.

I leaped out of the pool and roamed over to Dream. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Oh, um.” She pointed to the sky.

“The stars? But they’re not out yet.”

“Yeah, but, um, they will be soon. And, uh, I just like the stars.”

“You can watch those later.” I pulled her up by her hand and informed her she was going to be my next chicken partner and to not let me down because I hadn’t lost a fight.

I have no idea how many games we played, won, or lost. I got lost in the laughs just between us. And the rush from every inconsequential touch took me to another world. Dream would later describe that day as the first time she felt accepted. That’s big. My guess is that it was even bigger than I thought.

The games didn’t stop after chicken. As a group, we made up our own, like Rock Slam. Which was just making a small pebble-sized hole in the ground then tossing a pebble in the air and trying to get it into the hole using anything but your hands. They enjoyed it. Personally, I think we’ve had better ideas as a group. Thankfully, the game ended soon after, when a rabbit hopped into the backyard—a rare sight outside of pet shops since most Drowned Predators made quick work of small animals.

Amelia announced that we should adopt the rabbit and make it our mascot. I noticed she paused as she said mascot. Amelia, being a pink-furred giant of a woman, was self-conscious of her looks, and I imagined she feared someone would make the obvious joke, “We already have one. It’s you.” I’m glad no one did. I am so glad we were able to give her that moment, considering what I know about her now.

Unlike everywhere else in Division’s Hand, there was no real competition between us. No need to prove ourselves by tearing down another. Maybe it was that moment I let my guard down and opened my heart, a mistake.

Regardless, I cosigned the idea to chase the rabbit because it was more fun than Rock Slam. Most of us tried to lure the rabbit closer with random vegetables from Major’s kitchen or just chased it. I pulled Samuel back from joining the group. The Afroed kid was one of my best friends, I guess, because we contrasted each other so much. He was tall, lanky, and he didn’t worry too much about anything.

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“Yo, Samuel. I think I’ve got a chance with Dream.”

Samuel’s eyes sparkled, happy at my possible romantic luck. “Which girl is that?”

My jaw dropped. “Samuel, what do you mean which girl? She’s the one who’s literally royalty.”

Samuel shrugged. One other thing I loved and hated about Samuel was that he was one of the most go-with-the-flow types of guys. That meant he did not care much about big details—or little details, for that matter. “I don’t know her. What’s she wearing?”

I was careful to whisper and not turn my head toward Dream. “The girl in the green shirt.”

Samuel, for some reason, yelled, “Green shirt!”

Dream looked back at us exactly like one would look at people discussing them. We both stared back, guilty as thieves. The rabbit ran across Dream’s foot, and she went back to chasing it.

I yelled at Samuel more than he deserved. Little tears formed in his eyes by the end of it. Man, I regret that now. We made up the next day, but that was just wasted time. Time I wasted being mean just to be mean, to hurt him because I felt he’d hurt my chances with Dream. If I’d known he would die a few months later, I would have let it go. I would let everything go because none of it even mattered, and it didn’t make me feel better.

It wasn’t even his fault—it was me. Though I said Dream liked me, I didn’t believe it. That was why I didn’t want her to know I was talking about her. I thought if I hid my affection from her well enough, we might have a chance later down the line. I was a fearful fool.

We caught the rabbit and made it our mascot… for a time. Enough of us felt bad keeping a wild animal trapped. As the day progressed into night, we headed inside to play board games and take pictures. I avoided eye contact with Dream the rest of the night, and in the brief moments we did talk, I went stiff and tried to play it cool. One by one, we grew tired and hopped into random beds and couches to crash at Major’s. The need to sleep came for me, and I examined the room, looking for a place to end the night. I found Dream standing in front of me, staring at me.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, starving,” I lied.

“Want to stay up and cook something with me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” I said, and we were off to the kitchen.

It was my lucky day. We found a frozen pizza in the fridge. It’s always pizza. It took us thirty minutes just to get the pizza out of the fridge because we kept talking to each other about anything and everything, as if the last couple of hours not talking to each other were too intense, and the words came bursting out like water from a broken dam. We never addressed the awkwardness of earlier, though. Dream’s too personable for awkwardness to last, at least with me.

Once we put the pizza in the oven, we were silent. Our momentum paused. I scanned my thoughts for something else, something more personal to say to her.

Mark and Shells woke to the pizza’s fragrance and asked for some, practically floating into the room, the smell as strong as any magnet. They were the youngest of the group, both in middle school, so it was a pleasure to spoil them—most of the time. They knew and embraced the fact that we would give them whatever they wanted. Not whatever, I guess. I wish I had given them the chance to make it to high school. The thought of them dying so young makes me sick.

We gave them food that night. I was annoyed because they broke my moment with Dream, but I could wait for them to fall back asleep. When I looked at Dream, she seemed annoyed too. I took that as a good sign. No need to worry. I could stay up until the next morning if it meant I got to talk to Dream one-on-one again. Once Mark and Shells finished gorging on their slices and went back to their respective corners to sleep, I asked Dream if she wanted to watch a movie. Major hadn’t fallen asleep in his bed, and I knew he had a TV in there.

Dream replied yes, and so did Amelia, who got woken up by Mark and Shells. Amelia, the biggest cinephile in the world with the worst taste in movies. So Amelia, Dream, and I went to Major’s bed together and put on some movie Amelia picked. I thought the night was done until I remembered one of the first things Dream said to me earlier. I just like the stars.

I got up to head out of the room and whispered in her ear to stay awake. Then I rushed downstairs to shake Major and demand any extra blankets he might have.

“Man, what?” he asked, half asleep. “It’s too hot. You don’t want one.”

“C’mon, man, it’s an emergency.”

He waved a sleepy arm toward his basement door and passed back out.

I grabbed blankets from the basement and took them outside then tied enough together to make a makeshift hammock. I begged Division to ensure the hammock held.

By the end of the movie, Amelia was asleep. Dream was fading. Her eyelids fluttered, and she was close to collapsing in the bed.

“Hey,” I said, and her eyes opened. “Race you to see the stars.”

And we did race, tiptoeing downstairs and leaping soundlessly over our friends’ sleeping bodies.

In the hammock, the night’s summer wind rocked us rhythmically. Fireflies danced around us, and sweat cooled us. Once we noticed we were sweating, we tried to avoid touching one another, but the hammock was too small, making it a useless effort. Embracing one another’s sweat, we let our shoulders rest against each other.

We watched the stars until both our eyes found something more appealing—one another. Then we found ourselves speaking about everything all at once again. She gave me her life story, concluding with her fear of always staying in her sister’s shadow. I comforted her because that was all I could do, and I felt compelled to tell her about me.

I keep most people in my life at a distance. People knowing me and hurting me with what they know is one of my biggest fears, if I’m honest. I don’t tell people my victories. I don’t tell people my fears. I don’t tell people what makes me smile. I don’t tell people my problems. I don’t tell people my goals. I don’t tell people I have a man inside my head that hurts me.

I did that night.

Dream was the first and last person to hear about Fate, including my own mom. I’m not sure what I expected, but the words came out rough, full of stuttering and mumbling, and it ended with a hug and an apology from her.

“Why are you saying sorry?” I asked.

“Because you had to go through it alone. That sucks.” The hug grew tighter.

At one point, we fell asleep.

Morning came, and I woke to her laugh. I didn’t move. I stayed to enjoy the moment and opened my eyes to see her face. She wasn’t in front of me.

“Yeah, no, no, no one is mistreating me. I had a really good time. Everyone here is kind,” Dream said.

The words came from behind me, and no one responded, so I assumed she was on the phone.

Then she uttered the name of the person she spoke to. “Yes, Rose. Yes.”

Initially unfazed, I had a neutral opinion about the Heirs at the time. I stayed in the hammock, curious.

“Yeah, um.”

She gave a long pause, and I felt her eyes on me.

“There’s a guy named Velli,” she whispered. “He’s smart, great, and—”

That “and” weighed more than a moon, and I wish Rose had let her finish what she was going to say.

“No, well, he doesn’t have powers. Yeah, um, he might have a Weakness.” The strength drained from her voice. “Yeah, um, has a Weakness. No, Rose. You’re right. He’s Cursed, right? That’s gross.”

Cackling issued from the phone. Dream joined in the laughter. That was the first time in my life I felt betrayed. The laughter felt physical, thick, and cruel. I stayed still until she got off the phone. Dream and I have never been as close as we were that night.