“That you’re a witch.”
“Oh, no. I’m not a witch. I’m just a girl who can spell. Actually, I think it’s all about the rhyme. Don’t you think?”
“‘A wood, a buck, a nymph, and stone. A way into a satyr’s home. A door appears, the nymph walks through, and now their lives begin anew.’” Even I think this is good. And I’m really not the kind of girl who brags. “It’s very catchy, Pie.”
“And you know what?” I sit up and prop my elbow under my chin.
“Tell me.”
“It was easy, Pell. I feel like this spelling shit might be my thing. I’m gonna try to spell you into my new job world.”
He puts his hand behind his head and looks up. “I would love that. It would just be so nice to be with other people like me.”
“There are fifty other monsters here now.”
“It’s not the same.”
“They’re not Tarq.”
“Exactly.”
I lie back too, also looking up. There’s a tree up there. It’s kind of a willowy tree with thin boughs that have wispy trails of leaves. “Fireflies.”
“Yeah. How about that.”
“Better than moths. But why do you think they changed?”
“I think it’s about emotions.”
“Oh. That kinda makes sense. So my moth power is dark and dangerous. And my firefly power is soft and sexy.”
He slowly turns his head, grinning. “You’re the best.”
“You’re the best.”
We both laugh.
But I get what he’s saying. And he gets what I’m saying too.
We’re not alone anymore.
And it’s nice.
Something catches my eye off to the left and Pell must see it at the same time, because he sits up a little.
“What’s that?”
“I dunno,” I say. But no sooner are those words out of my mouth than I realize what it is.
Pell sits all the way up. Rubs his eyes. “Am I seeing things?”
“No. I see it too. It’s a fucking door.” And no sooner does that come out of my mouth than a noise off to the right catches my attention. “What’s that?” I look over at our pile of clothes. They’re moving. “Please tell me that’s not a rat. I will burn those cute pants and silk blouse.”
“Listen,” Pell says.
We both lean forward to hear the tiny sound. “What is it?”
“Shit.” Pell gets up—his morning-wood package dangling between his legs—and walks over to our clothes.