18
Art and Westook a few days before trekking back through the woods to their spot once again. Until Joseph had defiled it, they never would have imagined that log bringing them anything other than pleasure or serving as a reminder of the connection they had discovered with one another. Now Art saw it as a bitter reminder of the world they lived in, the one that had, through much of their lives, disapproved ofthem.
As they eventually found their way back to their space, if only to confront the demon that had been birthed in that place through such a malicious act, Art discovered that not only had Tony removed the offensive word, but in its place, carved in bold letters:LOVE.
It couldn’t remove the stain from Art’s memory, but like his own life experience, it reminded him of how such venomous hatred could be so easily replaced with kindness andunderstanding.
By then, news of the incident had circulated throughout the community. It had become the idle gossip the residents were eager to participate in, and with that, came Art’s agitation as he realized his and Wes’s relationship had turned into an unnecessary focal point for their peers. Art had spent much of his life trying to avoid attention, not become the center of it, which made the interest all the moreunsettling.
The Fabulous Fives’ training became an essential distraction, and as the weeks went by, Art found that like with so many other things in his life, the passage of time eased hishurt.
One day, Art was waiting for Wes in the main courtyard so they could head to the book club together when he saw Frances and Gabe in a rush, heading from the south entryway toward the north. They were in quite a hurry…so much so that Art found it suspicious how they bustled along, Gabe with a bag kept close at hisside.
“Frances! Gabe!” Art called out, figuring he would get to the bottom of whatever mischief they were up to. At the very least, he was eager to discover what gossip they had become aware of that had put such a passion in theirgait.
Frances and Gabe stopped together and turned to him, Frances’s eyes widening. Oh, she was truly tragic when it came to harboring secrets, particularly from him, who had known her long enough to pick up on the tells—the twitch of her right eyebrow and the way her tongue slid from her mouth, as though she was working hard to think on thespot.
Art’s gaze shifted to the brown bag Gabe carried, the strap over hisshoulder.
“How are you both doing this morning? I was on my way to the book club. Where are you off to?” He figured they would either surrender their plans or that their ruse would be uncovered through a bit ofchatting.
“To the rec center,” Frances said. “I’m working to get Gabe’s times down before FieldDay.”
“That doesn’t seem right. We were going to run our stats next week, I thought.” Art wasn’t being severe in pressing. Just thought it would work to pick apart her story. They had trained the same way for the past five years, after all, so he was sure he would know if a change in practicing their particular sports wasnecessary.
“Today’s a better day for it,” Francessaid.
Art glanced between the two of them. “I assume you’re both aware that I know you well enough to realize you’re up tosomething.”
Art had heard Frances’s laugh enough to know when it was staged, and she put on a performance of a lighthearted laugh just then that was about as good as the performances she put on in the community plays—forced, to be generous. “Oh, Art. What could we possibly be upto?”
“I’m not sure, but I guess I should inquire about the bag Gabe’scarrying.”
“Hey, what’s going on?” They all turned at once to Wes, who approached from theside.
“You’re just in time,” Art said. “Frances and Gabe were about to tell me where they were on their way to. Although, I think they’re trying to mislead me for a reason I can’t makeout.”
Frances sighed and took a quick glance around. “Okay, come here.” She led them through a gravel path that wrapped around a tree, into a small alcove in the corner of one of the mainshops.
“The enemy can still hear us here,” Gabeinsisted.
“Please tell me this is some sort of scavenger hunt,” Wes said with alaugh.
“Scavenger hunt, no. This is vengeance,” Francesexplained.
“Vengeance?”
“It’s a glitterbomb.”
Art couldn’t hide his shock. “What?”
“A bomb of glitter,” Gabe offered, as though Art was inquiring about the nature of thebomb.
“I know what it is,” Art said. “I can’t imagine why you would have one. Where are you going to useit?”
Frances raised a brow. “We’re going to put it in Joseph’s locker at thegym.”
“Why would you do that?” Wesasked.
