Chapter 32: Call To Arms

Harvey has never lost a game.

It was so much quieter on top of Dead Man's Curve. Harvey let his thoughts race and race, anger fester and bubble over. Why was he the one who felt insane? After years of having to watch his own daughter walk home so sadly. Covered in dirt and debris from the bullies she had to face. Was it really unfair for him to judge Boscha so quickly?

His own childhood barely differed from Willow's. That fact horrified him and kept him up many times before. After everything he went through, he still couldn't protect her.

His eyes were shut for the entirety of his thoughts. So much so, he had yet to notice a redheaded teenager sitting beside him.

Kids, they never want to talk when an adult is upset. Why is she even here? It was reckless of her mother to just let her up here unattended. Of course a mother like that would have a child like her…

Growing up in Glandus, Harvey had seen his fair share of snobby spoiled brats. Their parents let them do whatever they wanted. Which included making fun of the poor fat quiet kid hiding in the corner of the classroom on his first day, because everyone else was mean. Because his parents scared him into thinking everyone would be out for his blood. That he needed to toughen himself up. And by Titan, he did.

"So," Boscha starts, despite Harvey never even glancing at her. "How are you?"

He freezes. And it was not because of the harsh wind that passed by. Why would Boscha need to know about that? Is she so bold and confident enough to win him over with the facade she puts up? Of being a changed and brand new person? "What? How am I?"

"Y—Yeah…?" she stutters out. It seems even she was confused with the way they started the conversation.

Harvey has never lost a derby game. That was a fact he was proud of, and that his school was proud of, and that his parents are proud of. All the hours he spent being stuck inside with nothing but walls upon walls of sports memorabilia, encouraged him to keep working towards victory after victory. He's been leading his team to victory since his rookie league.

"I'm fine. Thanks," he spits out through gritted teeth.

But it took hard work, the pressure to be perfect, the pressure to prove something to his peers. That he can be great. That he isn't worthy of such belittling treatment. It's easy for some shmuck to win games when you have everything going for you.

"Are you sure? You seem a little tense."

So to have some kid—no—some bully to think she can date your daughter. Because she's all this. She's all that. She thinks she's 'worthy' of Willow. Willow deserves someone who knows hard work. Who values family. Someone who isn't Boscha.

Willow is young, she can still meet so many wonderful kids out there. Kids who are more compatible with her.

Boscha coughs into her hoodie like she's coughing up thorns.

"Sorry. I'm a little cold."

"Figures. You're not even wearing a jacket!"

Dangit. He's already scolding her like he's her parent. He very quickly even goes to offer her his jacket, but Boscha immediately dismisses it. a He refuses to let this stubborn kid get sick just because she followed him up to this dangerous place. Eventually, she does accept it.

Harvey sighs, a harsh puff forming at his lips as he does. Come to think of it, didn't the last time he saw Boscha out in the cold, she was literally wearing Willow's cowl?

He groans yet again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His eyes wander over Bonesborough. Over the quaint town he's made himself acquainted with since his family moved here, and the distant corpses of late titans forming mountains in the distance. Part of him missed soaring through the skies playing flyer derby Gilbert. Particularly how his dashing face smirks and winks at him through the clouds, and holds out his hand. Something only he would be able to witness.

Something… Not even his parents would know they did.

That part scares him. He knows damn well how teenagers can hide things. Because well, he was once a teenager himself. So to see Gilbert in Willow's face. To see just how similar they are. It's kind of scary to think, that she might be pulling off the same stunts he once did when he was younger.

He glances at Boscha again. She wasn't shivering anymore. In fact, she was playing with her palisman in hand… But she did look off into the sun with the same intensity he did.

"Mr. Harvey…" She says, and her voice sounded so much more youthful than it usually did. Not with the ear-grating prang of teenage angst. But like that of a child's final silly statement before going to sleep.

"I love Willow. I think she's sweet. And daring. And very… She's brilliant. I admire her a lot. And I… Wow. She's just so… You know? I'm… Not very good with these kinds of words."

She continues to ramble. It was clear as day now she took Willow very seriously.

"You're too young to know what you're saying."

Boscha's voice fades out as she stammers and struggles to even come up with a response, ears drooping along with her gaze. His words, however harsh, were true to him undoubtedly, not knowing how much it hurt her to hear. She would hate to embarrass a child, but she hates seeing his daughter be hurt more.

It was at that point, Boscha refused to speak to him any longer, only hiding her small and scrawny frame in his coat. Maya lands on top of the teenager's shoulder. Eyes shut, the crab strokes and plays with her owner's hair with large claws.

Boscha sighs, breath suddenly clear and steady.

"Okay."