Page 6 of Miserable Marionette

I balk at the suggestion, a chill running up my spine at the thought of changing my clothes in the same room where they chop up people. “No chance.” I spin on my heel, gesturing to the only other doors in the room. When he walks over, opening it up, showing the washer and dryer next to a lengthy, narrow closet with dim lighting, it seems just as scary. My steps falter, his hoodie gripped harshly in my palms before I huff. “Just… turn around and close your eyes.”

I make quick work of changing, hissing when my long ponytail snags in the neckline of my dress, jerking about a hundred of my baby hairs at the same time. My eyes blow up like little moons when Gideon's head snaps around, his eyes widening on me as I cover myself. “Don’t look!”

“Don’t yell!” he hisses back, turning away and crossing his arms, his eyes on the basement stairs as if standing guard.

After I’m dressed in his black hoodie and cover shorts, my shiny slippers still properly in place, he tosses my dress and tights in the dryer, filling the room with the smell of dryer sheets and fresh linen instead of thick chemicals. He digs into the bulging back pocket of his jeans, all but thrusting the bundle of brown velvet and lace into my hands.

I can’t contain my excited gasp when it unravels. “A new dress for Krissy!” The fact that she’s at the party without me needles my chest for a moment, but she’s safe on the porch.

“Now you don’t have to freak out every time the white one gets dirty.”

I study the pretty dress, the pale blue lace bordering the neckline and sleeves in a pretty, dramatic collar. “This is so pretty, Gideon! Where did you get it?”

“I made it.”

My attention lifts from the doll dress. “All by yourself?!”

He nods. Those intense eyes studying mine. “I took her measurements when I was fixing her the last time.”

He barely catches me as I slam into him. Hugging him tightly, he smells like the woods, but not in a gross way, in the best way, actually. “You’re the best best friend ever, Gideon!” As soon as that leaves my lips, I feel the next question bubbling up. One I’ve avoided asking. “If you were in the woods, why didn’t you come to my party?”

He’s still holding me tightly, too tightly as I wiggle and try to pull away. Dad always says you can tell when someone is lying by looking at their eyes. Not that I think Gideon would ever lie to me, but still, I want to see.

“My mom told me I couldn’t go,” he answers.

I finally tug free and stare up at him. Taken again with how tall Gideon is, despite not being that much older than me, as he keeps a now loose hold on my waist. “She thinks I’m going to hurt you.” His face is blank as usual, unreadable. Cold, but warmer for me than it is for anyone else. Another thing about him that makes me feel special. More special than I’ve ever felt before in my whole entire life. Well, except when Uncle Rodney lived with us.

I let out a half-laugh, believing him immediately. Gideon isn’t a liar; never has been. “That’s silly. You would never hurt me! We don’t play rough or anything.” His mom is as weird as he is, which makes me laugh harder.

We stay like that until my laughter trickles out, locked in the moment like someone covered us in glue. I like the way Gideon stares, the way he doesn’t look away no matter what. I try to match it but always end up losing. The girls at school say it’s uncomfortable; they swear he doesn’t blink. Of course he blinks. Everyone blinks.

This time, though, he looks away first, leaving my belly swarming with a ticklish fluttering. His gaze lands on the double doors behind me, his pupils widening, eating up the blue as his eyes go unfocused. “She says there’s something wrong with me. I think she might be right.”

My brows furrow, an uneasy feeling settling in my gut, snuffing out the flutterflies. “Like you’re sick or something?”

I don’t want him to be sick. Mom said Uncle Rodney was sick, the type of sickness you can’t cure with a doctor.

He nods, making my stomach sink way down deep, lower and lower. “What if I did hurt you, Audrey? Sometimes my brain feels too heavy. I do things and I think about things all the time until it makes me—" He sighs, looking more tired than I’ve ever seen him. “Until it makes me sick. I don’t know why I can’t stop it. Then there are times I just… just get so angry. What if I got angry at you one day and you got hurt?”

I flash him a wide smile, ushering away the unease in my belly. “Then I’d forgive you! Everyone makes mistakes. You’d still be my best friend.”

His attention snaps back to me, and the look on his face makes my grin falter, as weak as it was. He’s staring at me again, but this time, it’s different. It’s like I just told him the biggest news of his life. Gideon is goofy like that sometimes; the weirdest things make him get all… well, weird. Weirder.

He clears his throat. “Aud—"

“Why in the hell is she down here?”

I startle as his mom all but jerks between us. Spinning on Gideon as she pulls me behind her, her filed nails prodding my arm painfully, even through his hoodie. “Where are her clothes?! Oh god, Gideon, so help me if you’ve—"

“She got them wet. I put them in the—"

“Where have you been all day? Huh?” her voice cracks, her long black hair greasy at the roots. “Were you at her house again!?”

I frown. At my house?

Gideon's mom takes a step back when he takes one forward, taking me with her. My sparkly slippers snag the rough carpet, making me stumble. “I told you I wanted to wish her a happy birthday.”

“Gideon, it’s okay,” I interject. I know I shouldn’t, it’s not polite to get into other people’s business, but he didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know why she’s so—