You’re a monster, Augustus. Monsters don’t deserve friends.
“Okay," I breathed out. "Cool.”
“Got any art you can show me?” she asked before taking another bite of her apple.
I glanced down at my school bag and pulled out my visual arts book. It was already filled with unfinished work, most of it completed on the bus ride to and from school. “Yeah…some.”
“Can I see?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I slid the book across the desk and watched as she flicked through, expression unreadable. She lingered on some pages longer than others, bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes took in every inch.
Feeling vulnerable?
I bit back a retort and busied myself with my lunch. It didn’t matter what Ava, or the Devil, oranyonethought. If she hated it, that meant nothing.
Liar. You long for approval like a dog longs for a bone.
“Who’s this?” Ava’s question broke through my thoughts, holding up an artwork I had completely forgotten about. I tried to snatch it back, but she pulled it close to her chest at the last second.
“Why is she on fire? And what’s in her hand?”
It was a crucifix, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I made one last attempt to retrieve my book and when I succeeded, I shoved it into my bag.
“Looked like something out of a horror movie,” she commented after a brief, tense pause.
“It was,” I lied. “Just something I…I saw.”
Ava nodded, though the way her eyes drifted toward my school bag told me she didn’t quite believe me.
She knows.
No, she doesn’t.
She knows. She knows. She knows.
The bell summoned us to our next class where Ava, to my astonishment, sat next to me. We didn’t discuss the artwork. We didn’t discuss anything at all. The silence was comfortable. And for the first time in my twelve years, I thought someone might actually be my friend.
***
A year had passed and October painted Aunt Vera’s garden an array of red, orange and yellow as leaves scattered across the yard, some swimming in the bird bath and the fishpond.
In a maroon knitted sweater and plain black trousers, I sat with Auden on a red and white picnic rug, a basket of biscuits, cheese, and fruit prepared by Mrs Brighton shared between us. Auden was in a matching maroon sweater, though whilst mine was plain, his was stitched with Winnie the Pooh and Piglet catching autumn leaves with a net.
We had spent the morning feeding the fish, playing board games and counting how many leaves fell from the tree above us.
Auden wanted to explore Aunt Vera’s maze, but I was weary. Years ago, I would have jumped at the chance. I would have made a quest out of it. But at this moment…the thought of getting lost in the hedges condemned my stomach to sickening nausea. Who knew what trick the Devil would play in there? How long before the tall hedges began closing in?
“Please, Guses!” Auden pouted. He crawled toward me and threw himself onto my stomach, trusting that I would catch him in my arms.
“But why?” I laughed to hide the anxiety soaring through my veins. “What do you think is in there?”
“Treasure!” Auden answered without hesitation.
“Treasure?” I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of treasure?”
Auden sat up and adjusted his new black-framed glasses before beaming, “Mumma!”
Everything inside of me shut down at those words. All traces of joy fled, leaving an emotionless ghost in its wake. Auden and I didn’t speak of our mother. We simply didn’t. I thought we had put her behind us.
