Page 74

Gerard’s face falls slightly, and he lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “Actually, I’m a terrible artist. Like, embarrassingly bad. When I was ten, we had to make hand turkeys in school for Thanksgiving. You know, the ones where you trace your hand and turn it into a turkey? Well, mine turned out to be more of adeformed claw with googly eyes. My teacher tried to convince me it was abstract art, but I knew the truth. It was an abomination.”

I burst out laughing at the image of a young Gerard proudly presenting his eyesore of a hand turkey to the class. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. And oddly adorable. I kind of want to see it now.”

Gerard groans. “Trust me, you don’t. I think my mom burned all the evidence out of secondhand embarrassment. But the point is, I have grand visions. It’s my execution that leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Maybe we should stick to something simpler, then? How about triangles for eyes and a jagged mouth?” I ask.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

The sound of footsteps distracts me, and I turn around to see a petite redhead hovering in the doorway. He’s even shorter than I am, with delicate features and large hazel eyes that dart nervously between me and Gerard.

Gerard’s face breaks into a warm smile. “Alex! Come on in, buddy. I want you to meet someone.”

Alex tentatively steps into the kitchen, fiddling with the hem of his oversized BSU hockey hoodie. Up close, I see a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, giving him an almost cherubic appearance.

“Alex, this is Elliot Montgomery. Elliot, meet Alex Donovan. He’s Coach Donovan’s son and the team’s honorary little brother.”

“Hi Alex, it’s nice to meet you.” I give him a friendly smile.Yes, I can do such a thing.

Alex returns my smile shyly. “Hi, Elliot. It’s nice to meet you. Gerard said you’ll be helping us carve some pumpkins?”

“Yup. So, now that you’re here…shall we start?” I glance at Gerard for the go-ahead. He gives me a wink and a nod, and I nearly combust on the spot.

16

GERARD

Whoever said three heads were better than two wasn’t kidding. With Elliot here, Alex and I have managed to carve nearly all the pumpkins before dinner.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, we have one hour left before the hockey team barrels in here, demanding food.We can do this. I have faith in us.

I study the remaining pumpkins, trying to decide which one to tackle next. They’re all huge and orange, like a bunch of mutant basketballs. I pick up one that’s especially gnarly and grab a carving knife.

Maybe I should draw the face first.I imagine what it would look like with a big, goofy grin and trace it in my mind when the knife slips from my grasp and nicks my finger.

“Fiddlesticks!” I suck on the digit, tasting the sharp tang of iron.

Elliot peers up from his pumpkin with a raised eyebrow. “Fiddlesticks?”

“Gerard never curses,” Alex chimes in.

“Wait, really?” Elliot sounds more curious than skeptical.

I shrug. “I don’t see the need for it. Other words work fine.”

Elliot smirks. “Like…fiddlesticks?”

“Sure, or gosh, or jeepers. Why use bad words when there are so many fun ones?”

Elliot shakes his head, but I can see he’s fighting a smile. This guy is a riddle wrapped in an enigma stuffed inside a tiny, grumpy package. Not that I’m complaining about his size—I kind of like how compact he is.

I grab a paper towel and wrap it around my finger. The cut isn’t bad, but it’ll probably sting for a while.

“So, what’s the plan for these?” Elliot gestures to the carved pumpkins lined up on the counter. Each one has a different face—some scary, some silly, all expertly done.

“We’re going to put them outside the house like an Easter egg hunt, but spookier.” I unroll the paper towel and check my finger. The bleeding has mostly stopped.

When Elliot bends down to pick up a piece of pumpkin guts, I take the chance to really study him. He’s dressed casually today in a soft, oversized gray sweater and dark wash jeans that are slightly too long, pooling around his small feet. The sleeves of the sweater hang past his hands, giving him a cozy appearance, and I have to admit, I kind of love it.