Page 65

Arlo ran at him, face blazing.

Three four.

Bren’s hands found his hip as he lunged, carrying the momentum of the attack up and back.

One two.

Arlo soared through the air, limbs flailing with practice instead of reflex.

Three Four.

Arlo landed as they’d planned, caught by his feet, then rolled onto his back with his head lolled to the side in faux defeat.

One two.

Bren stomped forwards, ready to stare down in vicious triumph.

Three fo—

Arlo was laying in the mud, his eye a swollen mess in the center of a blackened crater.

Three—

He had a pulse, but was he breathing? Mam was on the way, but did she know how to get here?

He was so cold.

“Arlo!”

Arlo’s eyes snapped open as Bren’s voice crashed above the music.

Bren blinked. His boyfriend was lying on the scuffed black wood of the stage in the Peacock auditorium, not broken in the Glenbridge woods.

Airbrushed spots, not bruises. Eyes wide and shining with questions he couldn’t ask.

His head whipped right, and Bren remembered the hundreds of people watching them beyond the searing stage lights.

Somewhere Bren couldn’t see, Mr. Greene urged the orchestra to tread water as Bren’s heart beat hard in his chest.

In time with a dramatic sting from the horns, Arlo popped up from feigned defeat and, a second out of sync, Bren flung himself back like he’d been struck down.

The orchestra struggled to find its place as they exchanged a final round of improvised blows before, recognizing the notes of defeat, Bren slipped off stage.

“What the heck was that?” Yu whispered. He was at his side the second Bren was swallowed by the wings. An earbud not unlike Arlo’s ran from his right ear down into the top of a black walkie talkie.

“Nothin’. I lost my balance.”

Yu’s hand moved to his back like he was going to steady him.

“Seriously, Bren. You’re shaking. Go sit down. I’ve got some Gatorade in my bag.”

Bren wanted to argue, but when he saw Arlo snatching a look his way every few seconds, he relented. He gave Arlo what he hoped was one of his usual grins and threw in a thumbs up for good measure.

His legs had carried him to the top step of the winding stairs that he’d climbed too many times to remember by now.

He didn’t want to think about what had happened, but there wasn’t much else to do in the darkened stairwell.

Glenbridge.