Page 53 of The Gods Will Sing Our Song

“Nothing,” I say again.

“Is it her? Violet?” The memory of her sends a sudden, different type of heat through my body, making me feel all twisted up. “If you fought, just say you’re sorry.”

“Naw. We didn’t fight.” I think about Violet against the truck in the moonlight as I kissed my way down her throat. It turns the fire in my veins into liquid. “But wait—if we did, why do you assume I’m the one who needs to apologize?”

“Boys always need to atone,” she says in a sage tone as though she’s offering a universal truth. “I’m glad you didn’t fight, though. Violet seems nice.”

“Yeah, a little too nice.” It’s been a minute since I’ve been able to just walk and talk with Emi. I try to slow the blood beating away drumlike in my ears to savor it.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she might like my attention, but that’s probably it. She wouldn’t ever want…me. And I don’t know if I want to be her dog following her around until she gets tired of me.”

“Oh, Ren. I don’t think she’s that type. I think she’s genuine. You two could run off into the sunset and never read books. I can see it now.”

“Hey, we can’t all be bookworms like you.” It’s nice to talk to Emi. I’ve forgotten how easy it is. “I have to focus on being the muscle, you know? It’s important work, being a physical specimen.”

“A physical specimen? Maybe one that God drew with his left hand.”

“I’m pretty sure God is ambidextrous,” I say, and it makes her laugh. I love hearing it.

“Give Violet a chance. I want you to be happy, Ren.”

“That’s a pretty tall ask.” I wouldn’t know happiness if it slapped me in the face.

“I know. But I’m pregnant, so I automatically get my way.”

“If you’re happy, Emi, then I’m happy. That’s all that matters to me.” She smiles, genuinely touched. “But I just want you to know—you’ll never have to worry. I’m going to make sure you and the baby are taken care of, no matter what.”

“Thank you, Ren,” she says, and her eyes are soft in the moonlight. “I want things to be different for this baby, you know? Different than they were…for us.”

I know exactly what she means. For us, love ends in fleeing to another country to leave your family behind or in glassware hurled at your latest dead-end fling while your kids hide in the closet. Abandonment or anger, crushing silence or shattering glass. But I don’t doubt Emi will change that for her baby. She’s strong like that.

“They will be,” I say. “You’re gonna be a great mother, Emi.”

“I hope so.” Her smile returns. “I have plans. I’m going to read to the baby every day so she can grow up on stories.”

“Lucky kid.” I know the baby won’t have a silver spoon in its mouth but damn. If the baby has Emi as a mother, it’s already won. We’ve reached our barrack. “Go on in. I’m going to do something real quick.”

Emi nods and glances at my face. She sighs.

“That look is back.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I could kill a man’ look.”

“Don’t worry,” I say as I help her climb the stairs. “I’m not going to kill a man.”

And I’m not. But if I need to, I’ll kill a god to save her.

I have Mama’s knife in my pocket from when I was carving. Problem is that it’s a dull-as-hell dining knife meant for buttering toast, but it’s all I have. I move silently through the noisy camp. Strains of Tanabata music reach my ears, along with laughter. There’s the distant rumble of trucks, too. With a start, I notice Akira’s shadow, up in the sky. It hangs over the camp in a sheet, almost too thin to be seen, but definitely there. It ripples continuously, like a pebble keeps getting dropped through its watery surface. I shudder.

When I reach Akira’s barrack, I take the knife out. This isn’t the first time I’ve broken and entered, but it’s the first time I don’t feel guilty about it.

I cautiously open the door, step inside, and peer around the tapestry. Everything is quiet. Oda’s eyes are closed, but the mirror glows an incandescent green, creeping me the hell out. Akira is sitting up and his eyes are open, which almost gives me a heart attack until I realize he’s in some sort of daze. His mouth hangs open to where his sharp teeth are visible, and his lids are at half-mast, the vertical slits of his pupils shining through. The crack on his face now arches onto his forehead, and the slick layer of muscle inside reflects the green light.

The sight is horrifying. Is this how gods sleep?