AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Um.” I have no words. Pollux does that to me. He shuts off all my words. Probably because the ones he incites are the kinds I’ve been taught aren’t entirely polite. Example: at this exact moment, I’d like to say dude, what the f— “Wait a second. Is she talking about breaking the wishbone?”
Light turns on in Pollux’s eyes. Closing them, he scrubs a hand down his face. Growling, he says, “Willow.” He sucks in a breath and lets it out before snapping his eyes back open. “I’m almost proud of her delivery of the truth in such a morbid and creative manner. It’s quite fae of her, and I appreciate the innocent mischief.” He cracks his neck. “I’m familiar with the wishbone tradition. The snapping of a bird’s furcula. It originated in an ancient Italian civilization. A mischievous faerie, who I will not name, thought it would be hilarious to convince a group of people that birds held power over predicting the future. In the beginning, the furcula wasn’t broken, it was stroked. Because, again—” Pollux grumbles. “—the unnamed he thought it was funny to make a bunch of humans murder and pet the bones of deceased creatures. It was the Romans who took to breaking the bone in order to attain the wish. And I’m not saying that our unnamed—” He curses. “—of a faerie enjoyed carrying out many of the most terrible wishes, but I am also not saying he restrained himself if the wishes could be twisted into something he found funny.”
My eye twitches, so I rub it and, again, attempt to locate an appropriate response. All I manage is, “Furcula?”
“The wishbone. The necessary bone in a bird’s anatomy that allows its flight mechanics. It’s somewhat elastic and functions almost like a loaded spring in order to store and release energy for each flap.”
I swallow. I tell myself I am not very attracted to a man who knows random facts about bones, but, alas.
“Kass!” Mom calls, perhaps saving me from more googly-eyed staring. “I think the turkey’s done. Is everyone ready to eat?”
“Yep!” I squeak. Like an idiot, I touch Pollux’s arm, and my stomach turns over in response to yet again witnessing his muscles. “We’re all vegetarians. Don’t worry. The turkey is a tofurkey. We’re not going to break any bones.” I close my stupid fingers off him and smile as bright as possible. “Let’s go eat!”
Chapter 21
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gratitude holiday…with people who don’t say thank you.
My family is hypnotized, and I don’t blame them. I am a part of my family, too, after all.
Graciously, neither Pollux nor Andromeda has brought up anything fae related at dinner, but what Pollux has brought up is so interesting I think both my mother and my father have fallen in love with him. He’s just a little too smart, but not in that agitating know-it-all way. Every word out of his mouth about the strangest things in the world is utterly fascinating.
I don’t entirely understand how one man can know so many useless facts in such detail, but I suspect I could listen to him for hours.
Pollux pauses his explanation of a substance that is in such perfect sync if it could be harnessed as a conduit for communication, it would allow instant signal transfers between earth and crafts in outer space. He scans everyone at the table, cuts a piece of his tofurkey, and stabs it. “It’s all really theoretical, though. Like time travel. The best we can do is recreate images of the past using fragments of memories we still have access to. Entertaining involvement beyond that comes with moral questions outside of mere feasibility. I feel like I’m talking a lot. Am I talking a lot?”
“Yes,” Andromeda says as she picks up her plate and presents it. “May I please have some more macaroni, and potatoes, and not-turkey turkey, and green beans, an—”
“Everything, honey?” Mom giggles as she starts with a scoop of mac and cheese.
Andromeda’s face squishes up. “No. I don’t like the slimy stuff.” She glares gravely at Mom’s homemade cranberry sauce, which appears to be the sole neglected lump on her cleared plate. “It has bits in it. The bits are not appreciated.”
“The bits make it healthier.” Mom adds extra green bean casserole to Andromeda’s plate.
Andromeda looks appalled. “Can it not be healthy without the bits?” When she retrieves her plate, she stares at the glob. “Does it have to be healthy? Is health of utmost importance on a holiday about overeating?”
“So,” Dad interrupts like a bullet train, “Pollux. Do you have a special someone?”
“A special someone?”
“Someone you’re dating.”
On the outside, I’m eating mashed potatoes. On the inside, I am hiding under the table.
“Oh.” Pollux takes a sip of his water. “No. I’ve never entirely understood the concept of dating beyond ascertaining a time period of origin for a given object or event.”
Dad barks a laugh. “I highly doubt that, given some obvious proof.”
Andromeda, oblivious to the fact she is “obvious proof,” has discovered the joys of mashed potato malleability. She’s building a monster. But of course she is.
Pollux looks toward me, something in his eyes begging for help.
My parents exchange their own sort of look in response, and my heart rate accelerates.
“Have you considered getting back into dating?” Mom prods, swirling her fork in a very subtle heart around the two of us.
This is how I die.
