“Then make it up to me.” The muscle along his jaw ticked as he fought for composure. “If you’re going to go around advertising that I’m your best friend, then be my best friend. I get your crusade. I don’t agree with it, but I can see that it’s important to you. But you haven’t even been to my house to help me pick which photo I should submit for the Winter Showcase. Just know that I’m not a fan of being an understudy in your life.”
I fought through a fresh wave of guilt. “I will. How about movies on Friday at your house? I’ll bring everything, come to you, and that way your dad can see that I’m still alive and haven’t abandoned you. We can look through your top options, and I’ll tell you which is the best of the best.”
Gideon gave me a smug look, which meant that he accepted, and turned to go to class.
“Better move your ass. You’re going to be late!” I called after him.
He shook said ass at me.
* * *
After school ended and the halls emptied, I pulled a Jack of Spades from the deck in my locker to write Mia a little note. Last year, Mia’s best friend had a serious boyfriend and was pulling away from her. Fortunately for Mia, the Red Court had the resources to make sure that relationship met an untimely end. What could I have her do so that fact never came to light? Probably anything. The thought was chilling. If knowledge was power, then secrets were its currency; the Red Court had both in spades.
I moved down to Mia’s locker and, channeling my best Haley, I wrote a note in stark black lines. It was as unlike my handwriting as I could manage.
Your job is to do what we say, not improvise.
Secrets only stay secrets if you play along.
Try again.
I pulled the skeleton key from my bag and jimmied her locker open. I looked over my note again and smiled. The cards made sense now. There was something personal in the delivery, something of mine carrying the weight of the Red Court behind it. I kissed the Jack and placed it on the top shelf.
Sealed with a kiss. You’ve been outmatched, Mia.
CHAPTER 14
“EMBER!” GIDEON’S DAD called out delightedly as he opened the door. “Gideon said you were coming by. Come in, come in! It’s been so quiet without you around.”
If Gideon was my mother’s favorite person, I was his dad’s surrogate child. We used to joke that we could just move into each other’s rooms and our parents would probably send the rest of our things in boxes to follow.
“Hi, Brent,” I said and gave him a hug. He was a fast-forwarded version of Gideon, with the same shock of dark hair. Brent’s had a silver streak shot through one side that made him look quite dashing for a dad, even in an old Cal tee from his days at Berkeley. From what Gideon said, Brent’s Match.com profile was the talk of the single ladies in their neighborhood.
When you met his dad, Gideon made even less sense. How could such a soft-spoken, kind person make a Gideon? He was raised by his well-adjusted dad in a supportive environment. Granted, Gideon’s mom was out of the picture, but not in a bad way. Gideon’s parents met in college, and she was a free spirit who had decided shortly after Gideon was born that a quiet life in the suburbs wasn’t for her. Gideon’s dad preferred stability for their son, so they parted ways. I liked to joke that even though he didn’t have her hair, he sure acted like a fiery redhead. She kept in good contact, had never missed a birthday or Christmas, and came to visit whenever her travels brought her through town. She was a pretty cool lady, and Gideon agreed.
The abnormality of Gideon’s good relationships with both of his parents, ones built on trust and honesty, only added to the mystery of it all. Regardless, I couldn’t help but be grateful for whatever strange alchemy shaped the truest friend I’d ever had, snarky attitude and all.
“I’m upstairs,” Gideon called from his room.
I slipped off my sneakers and placed them in the spot of the shoe rack reserved just for me.
“Stop by before you head out and we can catch up. I have some leftover bulgogi you can take home. You need to fill me in on everything that’s been going on,” Brent said as I started up the stairs.
“Excuse me?” Surely Gideon wouldn’t have told his dad about the Red Court, right? That was the kind of thing parents frowned on. Mafia-like hits and blackmail weren’t polite dinner conversation.
Brent stared at me for a beat, also confused. “School? Track? Debate? You have to let me know how things are going.”
Sagging with relief, I said, “Sure. Will do!”
I pivoted back toward the stairs and bounded up the flight to Gideon’s room.
“Finally,” he said when I dropped onto his couch next to him.
Gideon’s room was like a thesis in Gideon. Posters, framed photographs, and sculptures in varying shades of gray were all strategically placed, and all had special meaning. Gideon didn’t buy anything, make anything, or accept any decor as gifts without heavy consideration. The things he selected were an extension of some part of himself, something he loved.
“Please,” I said. “I’m right on time. As always.”
I set my stuff to the side and scooted forward to examine the prints he’d laid out. “Which is your favorite?”
They were arranged in a row so we could look at all five side by side.
He squinted one eye in consideration. “I’m not sure yet. The theme for photos is ‘Past, Present, and Future’ and I think these are the best options.”
Each shot was beautiful, even to my untrained eye. The way Gideon caught the edge of a building to give the main subject a better sense of place without taking away from the shot’s focus was brilliant.
After a few minutes, he nudged the corner of one of the prints. “This one fits the theme, but I don’t want to pick it if it’s not my best.”
I considered the photo, seeing what he meant. The image captured a small abandoned auto-repair shop with the windows boarded up. It was cast in the shadow of a new office building under construction, and behind them was Downtown Denver. He’d managed to capture a sense of change and uncertainty. It was stunning. “That’s the one.”
A flash of a smile was gone almost before I registered it. “Thought so. Submissions are due in a couple of weeks, but I think this is ready to turn in on Monday.”
I grinned and unloaded my bag of goodies, handing Gideon his. Mine were a bit more sensible, but his tended toward junk food.
“What else did you bring?”
I’d downloaded two movies to my laptop to mirror onto his TV. One I hoped he would pick, and one I knew we’d end up watching.