down into a ravine. I can’t tell you the number of doctors and nurses who told me I was lucky to be alive.” I chuckled, though it didn’t sound quite right. “I guess luck is relative.”
“You were lucky, Aaron. You are. You seem to be doing pretty well.”
I gave him a dark look. “Also relative.”
“But you can walk. And obviously you have all your wits intact. Your snark is A-grade, my friend.”
I stared at him. Didn’t he see what I’d become? “Yes, I can walk. But I can’t go anywhere. I can’t leave Malfleur.” I waved an impatient hand at the mask.
He blinked as if he didn’t get it. “You really think your friends would care about that?”
“Oh, my old friends? They definitely would. When you’re young and gorgeous and rich, you don’t have time for anyone who isn’t those things. Believe me.”
“They sound like assholes,” he mumbled.
“Accurate,” I said dryly. “See previous comment about my being an ass.”
He shot me a look. “I can’t believe you were ever like that. You’d have visited a friend in the hospital. Surely some of your old friends have tried to get in touch with you.”
Oh, God. This was getting complicated. “Nobody really knows that . . .”
“That you’re here?”
I gave a sharp nod. “There were . . . repercussions of that accident.” I worried the arm of my chair. How could I tell him I was a murderer? “It’s best that I stay out of the eye of . . . anyone.”
Billy’s expression was soft, almost pitying. He looked like he was about to argue with me.
“We should start the coals.” I got up.
“We haven’t finished the game!”
“It will take a while for the coals to get hot, so I’ll get them going. Then we’ll finish.”
“Okay.”
I stalked toward the grill. Then it struck me. I stopped midstride.
“What is it?”
“I’ve never actually done this,” I admitted. “Coals, I mean.” I had to laugh at myself. I’d been to plenty of barbecues that were catered, and Father had liked to grill. But he’d used a fancy gas unit.
Billy came over and nudged his shoulder into my arm with a grin. “Come on, little rich boy. I’ll show you.”
“If you call me that again, I will hurt you.”
“Ooh, tough talk from a guy who doesn’t even know how to start coals.”
A bubble of giddiness rose up inside me. I loved his teasing. It was so . . . normal and familiar. But of course I had to give him a dirty look. I couldn’t have him getting cocky.
By the time the food was ready, the sun was directly overhead. There was a slight breeze, and the day was hot without being unbearable. We ate in our lounge chairs under the umbrella while Jack worked us both over with puppy dog eyes, earning samples from our plates. Hamburgers, hot dogs, a potato salad Billy’s mom made that was the best I’d ever eaten, chips, and beer—all eaten poolside with a friend. It was balm to my soul and I soaked it in greedily.
We kept the conversation light—books, movies, trips we’d taken—mostly me on that last one. The few trips Billy had taken had been with his dad, hitting tourist spots in the States like the Grand Canyon. But he was so enthusiastic about those trips. I silently wondered what he’d make of Paris or Rome.
“So why do you like horror movies so much?” I asked, after Billy gave me a dissertation on the Alien franchise.
He blushed and picked at his hamburger bun. “Do you think that’s weird?”
“No. Everyone has things they love. Just wondering why it’s this for you?”
The look he shot me was relieved. “Um . . . if you want the deep, psychological reason, scholars say horror movies—or horror books, or even going back to gory medieval art—allows us to face our fears. It’s something you can control, turn off, look away from. Whereas real life horrors aren’t as easily managed.”
“Interesting.”
“The monsters, in the old movies especially, they aren’t so bad. They’re sympathetic. Frankenstein’s monster. The Wolfman. There’s a sense that, if only you understood the monster, you could make peace with him, and not have to fear him anymore.”
He took an enthusiastic bite of his hamburger, seemingly unmoved by the conversation. But I wondered. What things had Billy had to fear in his life that he couldn’t control? His mom’s illness? His parents’ divorce?
“So what are your top two favorite things in the world?” Billy asked.
I thought about it. “Well, one is Jack.