Mekeke's black eye was looking a lot better the next day. Putata, determined to tread delicately, gave him space. He wasn't going to push his luck this early in the game.
Samama took this as her cue to shove a piece of paper in his face. Putata jumped back. He'd been staring at his desk one moment. The next, he was staring at bad clip-art of a snowman. The flowy script at the top read, "Winter Formal."
"They're short on hands," Samama said. "If you want to help with set up. There are a lot of decorations to be prepared."
"I didn't know this school even had a winter formal..."
"You've been going here four years now. How did you not know?" Samama rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I would have thought you'd be asking your new boyfriend to go with you."
"He's not my boyfriend," Putata said, scanning the details of the flier.
"Oh that's right. He shot you down."
Putata tried to ignore her comments. "So what does 'set up' mean?"
"You just have to help gather materials and stuff, then you decorate the ballroom the day of," Samama explained. "I got roped in because Kabobo's doing it. They're probably going to want to cut out some snowflakes, get some new tablecloths, etcetera." She waved a hand. "It should be easy for you. It sounds right up your alley."
Putata folded up the flier and tucked it into his pocket. "I'll think about it."
"Did I also mention that if you stick with it and decorate, they give you free tickets?" She raised her eyebrows in a way that might have been suggestive, if her facial expression had changed. "It would give you something do on a Saturday night."
Putata had plenty to do Saturday nights, and he didn't even have to leave his apartment. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't looking for a chance to get out there.
He found his eyes sliding toward Mekeke, who was hunched over his dried out notebook. "How many hands do they need exactly?" he asked.
"About five pairs," Samama said. She followed his gaze. "Feel free to bring a friend."
Hanana might be up for it. Putata made a mental note to ask her later. As for Mekeke... Putata folded up the flier and tucked it into his pocket. There was time for asking later.
Surprisingly, Mekeke approached Putata's desk this time. Putata had been too absorbed in his doodling to notice until Mekeke was standing right next to him.
"Um… did you want to go to the roof again?" he asked, rubbing his arm.
"Sure," Putata said, jumping up. Samama was looking at them over her shoulder. She didn't bother disguising her smirk. Putata ignored her. "Let's go."
He thought he'd gotten on Mekeke's bad side yesterday. Apparently, they'd made some progress. How much, Putata didn't know, but it was good to see that his presence was welcome.
As they climbed the stairs, Mekeke said, "You didn't have to help me yesterday. That was nice of you."
"Anyone would have done the same."
"I don't know about that." Mekeke put the wedge under the door. "You've been really nice to me and I was kind of mean. I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Putata said. "My friends say I can come on kind of strong." He laughed and scratched the back of his head. "I didn't really give you any reason to trust me."
It was colder today. Soon, they would have to start wearing their blazers. Putata would rather choke himself with his tie than conform to uniform requirements, but he wasn't prepared to risk the cold. Mekeke sat down.
"I figured that if you were just trying to make fun of me, you wouldn't have jumped into a pool for my stuff," he said, reaching into a brown paper bag. "So here."
Putata nearly missed the pudding cup Mekeke threw at him. He managed to grab the spoon in time. "Wow. Thanks, man. Friends?"
Mekeke shrugged one shoulder. "We'll see."
Putata grinned, dumping himself next to Mekeke. "I can work with that," he said, peeling back the wrapper from the pudding. "When do I get to see your apartment?"
"You've got a ways to go before you see my apartment."
Putata was about to say something else when he heard a shout from below them. He jumped up and ran to the railing. Mekeke followed close behind.
"Give that back!"
A group of boys had cornered a girl. Her pink hair stood out like a homing beacon. One of them was holding an elaborate mess of clay and pipe cleaners illustrating different biomes. Putata sucked in a breath.
"That's Hanana," he said, pushing away from the railing. He shot past Mekeke to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Mekeke was close behind, their hurried footsteps echoing in the stairwell.
It took longer than he could stand to find a door that led outside. He practically kicked it open. By the time they reached the scene, Hanana had been backed against a wall. Though she seemed small in comparison, the look on her face was murderous.
"I swear, I'll report you," she said.
"Yeah, to who?"
"Hey!" Putata shouted. "Get away from her!"
The boys turned. It took everything in Putata's power not to flinch. He recognized a few from the other day, when he walked Mekeke home. They could probably snap him like a twig.
Mekeke tugged on Putata's sleeve. "Maybe we should get out of here."
"No way," Putata said. "Hanana? Are you okay?"
Hanana nodded.
"So," Putata drawled, folding his arms. "Did you all just look down and realize your balls weren't big enough to pick on people your own size? Is that why you're harassing girls now?"
"Fuck off," the one holding the project said. He looked at Mekeke. "Got yourself a boyfriend, freak?"
Mekeke tensed. Putata waited for him to say something back, but he just went quiet.
"Don't go projecting your latent homosexual urges on others," Putata said. "Give Hanana back her project."
"Or what?" The lead boy switched hands. He wound up his arm, making to throw it. "It's pretty light. How far do you think it'll go?"
Hanana blanched.
"I said, give it back." Putata's heart was pounding. He looked at Mekeke for assistance, but the other boy was staring at the ground. The bullies were right; Putata had no power to stop them.
Luckily, the door they had just come through banged open with such force that all of them jumped. The boy holding Hanana's project fumbled and dropped it. The Styrofoam mountain fell off, along with a few trees. Hanana's mouth twisted.
"What's going on here? I heard shouting," Yukiki said.
One of the boys looked Yukiki up and down, then spit at his feet. "We were just leaving. Have fun, snitch." Then his head swiveled toward Mekeke. Putata felt Mekeke's fingers twist in the back of his shirt. The thug said nothing, but he shared a couple glances with his mates, chuckling under his breath.
Once they were gone, Mekeke released Putata's shirt with a large exhale. It was them and he knows it. Mekeke's black eye was fading, but not invisible. A sour taste spread through Putata's mouth. They had Mekeke too scared to even stand up for himself.
"Thank you so much," Hanana said, kneeling to retrieve her project.
"Are you hurt?" Yukiki asked as he gathered the spray painted mountain. He glanced at Mekeke and Putata. Now it was Putata's turn to tense up. "Either way, they'll be reported for harassment."
"They won't get in trouble for it," Mekeke said.
"It's my job to get people in trouble," Yukiki replied with more than a hint of satisfaction. "I'm sure something unpleasant will come their way." He returned his attention to Hanana. "You're sure you're fine. They didn't touch you, did they?"
She shook her head. "Just intimidation. This is the first time they ever bothered me. I don't know what their problem is." She accepted the mountain from Yukiki and placed it back on the board. "Thanks, you guys. I owe you, Putata."
"No repayment necessary. That's what friends are for, right?"
She smiled. "And thank you too, Yukiki."
Yukiki very clearly looked somewhere else as he murmured a reply.
Mekeke and Putata shared a glance. Ordinarily, Putata would have wiggled his eyebrows or grinned, but his emotions were in such a jumble that all he could do was look sadly at the fading bruise around Mekeke's eye.
The rest of the break was tense. Mekeke didn't talk much. Putata suspected that the run in with the bullies had shaken him. As they walked back to class, Putata remembered the flier Samama had given him.
"Hey," he said, hoping to lighten the mood. He held up the crumpled paper. "How about this?"
Mekeke frowned. "Are you asking me to go or...?"
"No, no!" Putata said quickly. "It's just set up. Decorations and stuff. Are you interested?"
Mekeke plucked the flier from Putata's hand and scanned it. "I didn't even know we had a winter formal."
"That's what I said."
"They're doing this when?"
"After school next week."
Mekeke shrugged. "I guess I can do it. Though, I've got this thing..."
"You don't have to come to all the meetings," Putata suggested. "Is it a job?"
"Sort of." He blushed a little. Putata couldn't believe what he was seeing. "I babysit."
Putata blinked. "Babysit."
"She's eight years old and both her parents work all the time so I'm locked in for the afternoons that I'm not at my other job." Even his ears were pink now.
"Oh." Putata had heard of it. He hadn't pegged Mekeke as the type look after other people's kids. "Are you doing that today?"
"Yeah. Why?" Understanding crossed his face. "No. No, you're not coming with."
"Why not?" Putata whined. "I want to see."
"There's nothing to see."
"I could help you. Are you not allowed to bring friends along?"
"Well, no, but..."
"Then it's fine. I don't have anything to do today."
Mekeke sighed. "Alright, you might as well come. I can't stop you." A smile suddenly appeared on his lips. "Actually, it'll be nice for her to meet someone new."
Putata grinned back. "Cool. I'll just go wherever you're going after class."
"Be warned, she's shy."
"I'm sure she's wonderful," Putata said.
Mekeke looked away, not enough to disguise the look of fondness on his face. "She is."
Despite the impression he gave, Putata put a lot of thought into his appearance. His school uniform might have been worn terribly, but it was a calculated kind of terribleness – something that projected slacker, artist, and skater all in one. And since he'd be seeing Mekeke in street clothes today, it was important to look a cross between "charming rebel" and "laid back" without revealing just how much deliberation went into it.
Mekeke had insisted meeting at the rec center. Yet another missed opportunity to see the inside of his apartment. Putata took his skateboard there. He wondered what Mekeke looked like outside of school. What would a scholarship kid be able to afford?
Black, mostly. Black jeans, black sneakers, a black wristband. He definitely stood out. In fact, he looked a lot better than he did in the second hand uniform. Putata felt a little giddy.
"Hey," he said, waving.
Mekeke had been checking his watch. Who wears watches anymore? He smirked. "Nice shirt," he said. "Did you make that yourself?"
Putata smiled proudly, tugging at the fabric. The three syllables of his name were split and stacked on top of each other, stenciled in his three favorite colors. He had debated over whether to go with this one or the one with the whale. "Yeah. Went through at least a gallon of fabric paint and three shirts before I got it just right."
"I like it."
Putata smiled wider. "Thanks," he said, hoping that he wasn't fucking blushing right now, because it wasn't the first time someone had complimented it but it sounded so good coming from Mekeke…
"It's actually a good thing you're here," Mekeke said as they went inside. "My phone hasn't been replaced yet, so I can't use any emergency contacts while we're out. If something happens, is it okay if I use yours?"
"Yeah, of course."
"I haven't had to use them yet, but better safe than sorry. You know what I mean?"
It was funny. Mekeke was so much more relaxed outside of school. He was definitely smiling more. He walked with his chin lifted. Putata wanted to take a picture so that he could paint it later. His fingers ghosted over the phone in his pocket. Would Mekeke be mad if he snapped a candid?
"Mekeke!"
"Hi, Nuii!"
A small girl was running towards them. Mekeke bent down so that she could fling her arms around his neck. She must have been eight at least. She glanced at Putata in confusion.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"That's Putata. He goes to my school," Mekeke explained, breaking the hug.
Nuii looked him up and down. Putata did the same. She kept her hands behind her back and scuffed the ground with one Mary Jane encased foot.
"Hi," she said in a barely audible voice.
Putata crouched so that he was on her level. He extended a hand. "Nice to meet you."
Nuii glanced at Mekeke. He nodded. She and Putata shook. Her hand was so tiny. She had painted her nails in various colors. The tiniest of smiles appeared on her face.
Once the greeting was over with, Mekeke scooped her up and set her against his hip, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Though they weren't related, it would be an easy mistake to make. Putata felt a brief stab of jealousy.
"Do you want to keep reading that book?" Mekeke asked, carrying Nuii out of the rec center. Putata followed, his hands in his pockets.
Nuii nodded emphatically. "Let's go to the library!" She pointed ahead of her. "Let's go!"
Putata drew even with Mekeke and whispered, "She's really sweet."
He nodded, his good eye brimming with warmth.
Putata had never had that much fun in a library before. Nuii warmed up to him quickly when she found out he could draw. While she sat on Mekeke's lap, reading a small chapter book, Putata passed her simple pencil doodles.
"Quit distracting her," Mekeke said lightly.
"I don't mind," Nuii murmured, turning a page. She would take a second to look at each one, smile, then tuck it into her pocket for later. It was too cute. Putata couldn't resist.
He also couldn't resist drawing Mekeke. None of the short library pencils had erasers and the only paper available were little scraps for writing down call numbers, but he drew Mekeke all the same. It was difficult to capture him in so little space. Putata kept feeling like he was cutting bits off. He did manage to get his smile.
Mekeke leaned over. "What's that?"
"Just a sketch," Putata answered quickly, shoving it into his pocket.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?"
Mekeke rolled his eye. "No, I guess not. She warmed up to you quick."
"I'm good with kids, man," Putata said. "She was adorable."
They had just dropped Nuii off at the rec center to be picked up and were on their own again. Mekeke didn't seem to be in rush to get anywhere, so they lingered on the sidewalk. Putata rocked back and forth on the skateboard.
"So, are you up for the decorations thing?" he asked.
"Huh? Yeah, sure. This doesn't conflict so…" Mekeke trailed off. He kept playing with his watch. "Don't you have to be somewhere?"
"No." Putata continued to rock. "Should I be?"
Mekeke shook his head. "I just thought that a guy like you would have better things to do than stand around in front of the rec center."
Putata laughed. "Then let's go somewhere."
"I don't…" For a moment, Mekeke seemed torn. His eye darted around. "Actually, I have homework. Studying, you know."
Putata's smile drooped. Foiled again. Then an idea struck.
"Hey!" he said, snapping his fingers. "We should work together. Maybe you can help me."
"You want me to tutor you? I'm no good at explaining things." Mekeke shook his head and waved his hands at the same time, which Putata read as a serious denial indeed. Still, he pushed on.
"Oh come on," he pleaded. "You're smart. I'm sure I can learn something." He took a deep breath. "I'm probably failing Shurara's class and if I get another F, I have to live at home again and no one wants that."
Mekeke's conflicted expression grew worse. He lowered his hands. "If you really need help that badly, I guess you can come over."
Putata resisted the urge to fist pump. Finally! It was true that he would have to go back to the ancestral home if he got another failing mark, but he was actually managing in Shurara's class – as much as the teacher hated him. He felt a little guilty for lying, even though there was no harm in it. He just really wanted to see what Mekeke's apartment was like.
On their walk to the train station, Mekeke asked, "You really want to avoid living with your parents, huh?"
"Totally." Putata adjusted the skateboard underneath his arm. "My mom is a complete stiff. She doesn't like me being an artist. She thinks I'm going to end up on the streets after graduation. My brother is a dick, too."
"Your dad?"
"I hardly ever see him. He's always at work."
"Huh." Mekeke tilted his head. "I guess a lot of people's families are like that."
"God, I hope not. What about you?"
"What about me?"
It was clearly a deflection. Putata frowned. "What about your family? I know you live by yourself, but you've probably got a mom or dad somewhere."
"Somewhere," Mekeke said, his voice hollow. "If they're out there, I haven't met them."
Putata stopped walking. "Wait. You never met your parents?"
"No. They, uh, gave me up. I went through foster care for a while…" He gave his head a sharp shake. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"Because you trust me?" Putata said softly.
Mekeke looked at him for a long time. Putata didn't know whether to speak and break the moment, or keep staring at Mekeke forever. In the end, it was Mekeke who moved first.
"We're gonna miss the train," he said, spinning on his heel.
Putata jogged to keep up. The crowd of people heading home from work nearly swallowed Mekeke whole.
"Wait up!" Putata called. He was afraid of being swallowed too. He reached out for Mekeke's arm and caught it. The crowd pushed them together, forcing Putata to tuck in his elbow and half loop his arm through Mekeke's.
Mekeke glanced down. His face burned red for a second. "Sorry," he said.
"No problem. I've got you now." Putata let out a nervous chuckle. He was sort of enjoying it. Mekeke was solid and reassuring. He absentmindedly ran his palm across the other boy's upper arm once or twice. If Mekeke noticed — and he had to — he didn't comment.
When the train arrived, the crush only got more intense. Putata and Mekeke were half pulled, half propelled into the car. If they hadn't been holding onto each other, they might have ended up separated. They found themselves squished into a corner.
"Hi," Putata said, aware that they were fully in each other's personal space now.
"Hi," Mekeke replied.
The rest of the ride passed in silence. Mekeke obviously didn't want to talk anymore. Putata hoped he hadn't blown his chances at being invited inside. He took the opportunity to check his text messages.
Hanana had tried to get in touch with him earlier. He'd forgotten to turn the phone off silent after they left the library. Putata debated on whether to call her. He decided it could wait until he was done hanging out with Mekeke.
The car emptied out until it was even more barren than the first time Putata had gone this way. The station was deserted when they got off. In the darkening evening, Putata shivered. This was exactly the kind of train station where ghosts showed up.
Again, he walked with Mekeke to his building and rode the elevator up. This time, however, he was able to follow Mekeke to his front door. It was plain wood, with a peephole set in and a number plaque beside it.
"It's going to be messy," Mekeke warned as he sorted out his keys.
"Don't care."
Mekeke's version of messy was tamer than Putata's, but it would have made someone like Yukiki burst a blood vessel. Mekeke's shoes — rain boots and uniform shoes only, Putata noticed — lay in a heap beside the door. Putata added his sneakers to the pile. Beyond that, every surface in the tiny living room was covered with papers and cardboard and sewing supplies. The kitchen sink was full of plates that had yet to be washed.
"This is it," Mekeke said, holding out his arms.
Putata stepped over a stack of newspapers and examined the coffee table. There was so much string, he could hardly tell where one ended and another began. He was impressed.
"I would have been surprised if it was clean," Putata said.
"You really don't care?"
"No."
Mekeke relaxed a little. "Just throw whatever off the sofa."
Putata shifted some old notebooks out of the way and sat. It was old, so he didn't so much "sit" as "sink." The frame creaked. He smiled at it fondly. There was something charming about it, but he couldn't put his finger on what that was exactly.
"You want a glass of water or something?" Mekeke called from the kitchenette.
"Yeah." Putata let his eyes skim over the living room again, seeking out details about Mekeke. There was a lot of stuff on the walls: crayon drawings (probably Nuii's), some old photos, random designs and newspaper articles. Putata got up to inspect one more closely.
Like everything else in the apartment, it was well worn and faded. Still, the headline was clear, announcing the winners of a small scale science fair. The photo beneath it showed the first, second, and third place recipients next to their hard work. Putata recognized Mekeke immediately, even with two eyes. He clutched his second place ribbon triumphantly, a huge, scraggle-toothed grin on his face.
"You didn't come over just to snoop through my stuff, did you?" Mekeke asked, setting a glass down on the table with a loud clunk.
"I was just curious." Putata pointed at the photo. "What did you win for?"
"A Rube-Goldberg machine."
"So you're good at that stuff too, huh? Cool."
Mekeke shrugged. "I'm not an engineer. I just know how to fit little pieces together." He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a fat notebook. "What are you having trouble with?"
Putata had almost forgotten he'd come over to study. "Oh, well… everything?"
Mekeke sighed. "I should probably review too. Sit down."
Putata ended up staying at Mekeke's a bit later than expected. He had wanted to hang around longer, but Mekeke very strongly hinted that he had to eat soon, so Putata excused himself and took the train home alone. It didn't matter. He was still riding a high from being let in to his friend's apartment at all.
He called Hanana after dinner, when he knew she'd pick up. She sounded stressed when she answered. A red flag went up in Putata's mind. He should have gotten back to her sooner.
"Is this a bad time?" he asked.
"No, it's not a bad time at all. Um…" He listened to her walk, then close a door. "So what's this about?"
"You tried to call me earlier. Did you need something?"
"Oh. That. Er, you know, never mind that. I think I've got it."
"Is this about those guys?"
"No! Not at all. I'm fine," she assured him. "I just… I had this problem and I wasn't sure what to do, but then I figured it out. So it's all good."
Putata raised an eyebrow. "A problem with what?"
"Don't worry about it," Hanana said hastily. "I've, uh, got something to do. I'll talk to you later. Bye!"
She hung up. Putata stared at the phone. That was weird. She was acting really on edge. Putata sincerely hoped her problem was solved and that it had nothing to do with the bullies from earlier. He could always ask her about it tomorrow. Maybe she'd be more comfortable talking face to face.
It could be… But Putata dismissed it. Why would she worry about that?