At sundown, Edilio made his way to the White Houseboat to retire for the night. The day had been very long for him, and he was looking forward to sleeping for the next few hours before he woke up to do it all over again. He had a lot of responsibilty, but he'd pretty much signed up for it.
Dekka was sitting on the edge of the dock near their houseboat, her legs hanging over the side. Edilio almost said hi, but she didn't seem to be in a good mood — she looked very tense and was breathing in long, deep breaths — so he walked past her without a word. Before he entered the boat, Dekka said, "I saw you talking to Roger earlier."
Edilio felt his face flush, and was grateful neither of them were facing each other. "Yeah. I, uh, I asked him about his art, like you said I should," he responded, fiddling with the zipper of his dark jacket. The lake was cold at dark.
"Come here," she said, patting the spot on the deck next to her. Her voice told him that she was upset, but she was still trying to help him.
He shuffled over to her and sat down, slinging his submachine gun off of his shoulder and setting it down next to him. Dekka didn't say anything else. She glanced over at him briefly, patiently, and then went back to staring at the water inches from her feet. Edilio scanned the area nearby. It was the time of the day that most kids were heading back to their homes to get ready to go to sleep, so the docks were steadily emptying.
"Why do I get so nervous around him?" Edilio said softly. It wasn't really a question.
"Because it's new to you," Dekka replied, still staring at the water.
"But what is it that's new?" he sighed. "I don't even know him, really. I'm not nervous around other people. Just him."
Dekka finally looked over at him. Her eyes seemed to be smiling a bit, but the rest of her face remained hard. "You'll figure it out, Edilio," she reassured him.
"Figure what out?" Edilio protested, letting his voice betray how frustrated he was. "I don't understand, I—"
"Edilio," she interrupted him sternly. "Don't be an idiot. Don't stress yourself out too much. You'll come to understand." When he opened his mouth to complain some more, Dekka cut him off with "Edilio. Take your time. Talk to him some more. Get to know him. Befriend him." She stood up, and glanced over at Brianna, who was standing guard on the shore, chatting with Computer Jack and someone else.
"Goodnight," she said, and walked into their houseboat, disappearing.
That left Edilio with a lot to think about. It was aggravating that she seemed to know exactly what it was that Edilio didn't. He did like Roger, he enjoyed talking to him and being around him, but he didn't know how to do that. He knew he was being awkward whenever he talked to him, but he couldn't help it. For some reason he just sort of shut down. What was it about Roger that made him do that?
Edilio sighed, and rested his head in his hands, gazing blankly at the dark, still water below him.
What was it?
After a good while, he went inside and went to sleep. He dreamed of spilled water and paint brushes.
Dekka laid down on her bed in the White Houseboat, and let her tensed-up body relax. She'd had a long day of being grumpy. That argument with Brianna earlier had drained and upset her. It was frustrating for her because she liked the Breeze, but she knew Brianna wouldn't ever feel the same about her.
But maybe she did. Maybe Brianna did feel something for her. Maybe that was why she tried so hard to hate her and to irritate her, to try to convince herself she didn't. Maybe that was why she was with Computer Jack.
Dekka exhaled angrily at the thought of Brianna and Jack. She had nothing against Jack, nothing at all. He was a good kid — smart, helpful, and kind, even if he was a bit cowardly. But he was with Brianna. Brianna liked him, or pretended to.
Shaking her head, Dekka reached over to take a swig from her water bottle on the ground next to her bed. She had to stop dwelling on these things. What had she just told Edilio? Not to stress himself out about Roger? She was being hypocritical.
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. She had bigger problems to worry about. A distraction was what she needed. Like Edilio and Roger. That would work. She knew Edilio was gay — or at least that he liked boys — but she was going to let him figure it out himself. With some help from her, of course. That's what she thought was best for him.
Soon she fell asleep, and she dreamed of red pigtails and torn-up sneakers.
Laying in his own bed, the Artful Roger thought of Edilio. He'd really enjoyed the talk they'd had earlier, even if it had been terrifying and horrifically uncomfortable. It was so sweet how Edilio had tried to talk to him, even though it was obvious he had no idea what to say.
And his eyes... his eyes were Roger's favorite thing about his appearance. Deep brown and so kind and gentle, but strong at the same time. Just like Edilio himself. And his dark brown hair that had been growing out a bit, and stuck up half-heartedly in the front. His shoulders, his strong arms, his hands… he could go on forever.
But he didn't, because Justin pushed open the door and stepped inside the room. "Roger?" he said sleepily. "Can you tuck me in?"
Roger smiled at him. He loved Justin like he was his little brother. Since he'd accidentally moved into Justin's house he'd felt responsible for him.
"Of course," Roger said, and got up out of his bed.
There were two bunks in the room, for Roger, Justin, Atria, and Orc, but Orc normally just slept on the couch in the living area of the houseboat. Or the floor. The bunks were both on the left wall of the room, and there was a table with two chairs and a small sofa on the other wall. Roger slept on a top bunk — Orc slept on the bottom bunk under him when he slept in the bedroom, since he would probably make the bed collapse if he tried to sleep on the top — and Justin slept on the bottom bunk of the little's bed. Atria was already asleep, but Justin had stayed up late coloring with some of Roger's art supplies.
Justin climbed into his bed and Roger straightened out the covers before pulling them up to cover Justin. The little yawned and curled up into a ball under the blankets.
"Goodnight, Roger," he said, yawning again. "Don't let the coyotes bite."
Roger smiled again. "Don't let the coyotes bite," he agreed. "Goodnight, Justin. Sweet dreams."
After Justin closed his eyes, Roger went back to his bed and fell asleep. His dreams were of brown eyes and strong arms.
Brianna sat on her couch in the houseboat she shared with Computer Jack and an eleven-year-old boy named Trevor. Trevor had gone to sleep a little while ago, and Jack was in the bathroom getting ready to. Her and Jack had just made out again. It still didn't feel like how she thought it should. Maybe she didn't like Jack. But she did like him, he was cute and nice. Maybe not like that, though.
She groaned and slid down into a horizontal position. She hated thinking about feelings. Why did they have to be so complicated and hard to figure out? She supposed that was how all of adolescent life was. Still, adolescent life had a different meaning the FAYZ. They faced problems like murder, starvation, and looming threats of radioactive monsers during their adolescent life in the FAYZ. Typical teenage things like crying over gossip seemed ridiculous.
Dekka was the source of most of Brianna's frustrating feelings. She had considered Dekka a good friend, maybe even her best friend, before Dekka told her about how she felt about her. Brianna didn't exactly know why what Dekka said made her so angry, but it did.
Maybe it's because you feel that way too, she thought for just a moment. No, she quickly shot down the idea. That's ludicrous. She liked Jack. Or, maybe. But her heart had been racing when she and Dekka had that argument earlier. They'd been so close to each other, and Brianna had stared at Dekka's dark, angry eyes. But that was just because she was angry, Brianna told herself. Everyone's heart raced when they were angry. That was a fact.
Jack came out of the bathroom, and said, "I'm going to bed now."
"Okay," Brianna said, sounding distant and far-off.
"Goodnight."
"G'night."
Her thoughts kept her rooted to the couch, and eventually sleep overtook her there. Her dreams were of dark, piercing eyes and running, running away from them.