A Fool To Love

Fingers of heat fanned over Arlo’s face and pressed into his eyelids. He hurried forward, head ducked to scout the area in front of his feet. Orange rays bounced off twisted pieces of metal and glass. The light seared into his eyeballs so much that he didn’t even pause to see if anything could be salvaged.

His foot collided into something higher than his ankle and he pitched forward, teetering only half a second before losing the fight to gravity. Arlo gritted his teeth as first his shin slammed into the object, then both knees scraped on the pavement. He rolled to the side before his head could hit the ground.

Arlo groaned. A sharp pain throbbed his wounded knees and an acrid smell burned his nostrils, the smell of something charred. He coughed once and held his hand up like a visor. A huge rubber tube, large enough for a small animal to fit inside, snaked its way around the junk and debris. Arlo prodded it with his foot and it barely moved. He shrugged and crouched on the balls of his feet, hand firmly planted on the cement, his knees stinging like a swarm of angry bees was upon him.

Arlo heaved a breath. Even if someone were around, they wouldn’t help him. He knew that much.

An orange sheen reflected off the ground. A buzz of curiosity vibrated his chest, and he leaned to pick it up. It was paper thin, silky and torn at the edges. A photograph.

Arlo had seen his share of photographs in his lifetime, but none like this one. He stared. Two people, a woman and a man. The woman’s face pressed against the man’s, and their smiles were wide and bright against their bronze skin. The woman had her whole arms wrapped around the man’s neck, but not in a hostile way. More like in a way that was obvious that she wanted to be close to him. Their dancing eyes stared right back at Arlo, and they looked so full of life that he wouldn’t be surprised if they started blinking.

Arlo knew he shouldn’t be seen in possession of such a photograph, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the happy faces. A mixture of confusion and longing bubbled in his stomach.

“Excuse me, mister,” a ragged voice whispered from somewhere ahead. Arlo jumped, fumbling the photograph inside his jacket pocket and zipping it up, the sound ringing in the air.

He let out his breath and got to his feet, ignoring the pain of his injuries. He’d look at them later.

“Mister.” The voice oozed even more desperation than before.

Arlo saw him in his peripheral vision as he limped forward, though he pretended not to. A hand snagged his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks.

He meant to shut his eyes, to pull away, to look anywhere but at the owner of the voice, but he looked anyway. And as he had feared, it was a mistake.

The man rocked back and forth on the ground. His pale skin was shriveled and hung off him in limp bags, and his eyes were sunken and watery. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days.

The man released Arlo’s sleeve and pretty much just mouthed his next words. “Please help me.” He had no teeth.

Arlo felt his sympathy cloud his senses. He knew deep down that he should walk away, that his man wasn’t his problem. But he couldn’t do it.

He just couldn’t.

He gently eased the other man up by his armpits. The man swayed on his feet but steadied himself by latching onto Arlo’s arm. His fingers tightened around his wrist, and Arlo tensed at the touch. The man’s watery brown eyes softened and a grateful smile pulled at his chapped lips.

But then a shy look passed over the man’s wrinkled face. About to make another request. Arlo braced himself.

“Uh, mister.” He licked his lips. “Could you be so kind to tell me where I might find the compound?” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a whole bunch of gravel.

Arlo felt his spine stiffening even more. It’s just compassion. It’s not against the law, they can’t arrest me for showing compassion.

Yet he looked over his shoulder. The junkyard was still, reflecting the dying rays of the sun.

His mind warred against his heart, but once again the battle was short-lived.

“Of course,” Arlo offered, crinkling his eyes at the corners without really meaning to. “It’s just up ahead, you should see it if you keep going.”

The man gripped his arm so tightly it started going numb. “Thank you, thank you.”

Goosebumps crawled up Arlo’s neck, but his heart sang. They stared at each other for a second longer, and then the other man let go and stumbled back. Arlo sucked in his courage, and reached a hand inside his jacket. He pulled out a miniature wind chime, and it tinkled slightly as it shifted back and forth in a barely felt breeze.

“Take it,” Arlo murmured, checking over his shoulder once more.

The man’s eyes widened to full circles. He watched the cylinders dance and sway, seemingly mesmerized, then dropped his gaze to the orange spots twirling on the pavement. He met Arlo’s eyes as he stretched out his hand for the wind chime, raising his voice above the soft jingling. “No one’s ever given me anything before.”

Arlo smiled and held a finger up to his lips. The man nodded and patted Arlo’s shoulder with the hand that wasn’t holding his new treasure. “God bless you.” He hobbled away, humming under his breath.

Arlo blinked, in a daze. What could those last three whispered words possibly have meant? Was it just some kind of old-fashioned parting phrase, or something else?

He shrugged and focused on his hammering heart and the need to get home before sundown. One last golden ray of sunlight scattered over his path, illuminating the figure of a young girl, her blonde hair loose and tangled, and her eyes narrowed in his direction.

All the makeshift homes were already boarded up by the time Arlo half-limped, half-ran through the compound. Dusk had fallen, and he could barely see to avoid the litter crunching and snapping underneath his shoes.

His heart still pounded from his encounter with the man and the sight of the girl. Had she seen what he’d done? Would she turn him in?

Arlo knew by heart the location of the pile of wood where he slept with his uncle and brother, so he didn’t hesitate to knock on one of the boards. He was late, though. Uncle would probably force him to sleep outside in the dirt for that. After ridding him of everything he’d collected at the yard today, of course.

His heart gave a shudder. The photograph! He could not let Uncle see that in his pocket. He pulled it out, curling it in his fist. Just the feel of it was comforting and terrifying all at once.

He rested his back against the roughness of the boards, hit by an onslaught of heaviness.

There was a creak and a rustle as someone leaned out of the house into the darkness. “That you, Arlo?” It was Seth.

Arlo straightened. “Yeah. Is Uncle mad?”

“He’s not here,” Seth said.

Surprise filled his stomach. Uncle was always home.

There was a pause, and Arlo imagined his brother whipping his head back and forth. “Come on,” he whispered, and Arlo ducked underneath the board Seth was holding back for him.

A single lantern rested on the floor, its flickering light reaching to all but the shadowy corners of the house. A piece of paper lay next to it.

“What?” was the only word Arlo could manage.

“Isn’t it cool?” Seth’s voice bubbled with pride and excitement. Arlo could only feel amazement as he gazed at the glowing lantern. He’d heard somewhere that people could have light by the flick of a switch, but if that were true it was a thing of the past.

Seth threw himself to the ground on his stomach and the thud shook the boards. Arlo crouched beside him. “What are you doing with it?”

Seth held up the paper. It was darkened by thick, smudged lines, all woven together in a way that seemed to fit and bring life. In the way an actual picture would.

“Wow,” Arlo breathed, meaning it.

“I found this all for myself, Uncle doesn’t know. And I stole some coal from him too, to make the lines.”

“Where’d you get the lantern?”

“It’s Uncle’s, but he’s not here.” Arlo could see his brother’s grin and it seemed to add light to the unsteady shadows.

Should he show him the photograph? Anxiety wormed in his gut. He didn’t want to endanger Seth, but it was also something he just couldn’t keep to himself.

In a moment of decision, Arlo uncurled the photograph and cleared his throat. “Can you keep a secret?”

Seth looked up from his drawing, his eyes glinting with eagerness as he bobbed his head.

Arlo exhaled and held the photograph up to the light.

“Whoa!” Seth exclaimed, louder than Arlo would have liked. “What are they… doing?”

“I don’t know, but isn’t it nice?” His heart thudded as the word slipped out. It’s fine, it’s fine.

Seth paid no heed, snatching the photograph and eating it up with his gaze, as if he could make it real by just looking at it. After a while he gave it back, his movements thoughtful and withdrawn.

“Is it… that?” he said quietly.

“I’m not sure,” Arlo replied. “Maybe.”

Seth thought a little more. “Do you think Mom and Dad lo—”

Arlo’s finger flew to his brother’s lips but missed and bumped against his cheek instead. “Don’t say that word.” His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

“But we’re alone,” Seth protested. “No one’s gonna hear.”

“It’s not safe.” Arlo gulped in air. “I think we should try to sleep.”

Seth nodded, his eyes still on the endearing photograph in Arlo’s hands.

Arlo counted the small circles of metal, heat scorching his back. He’d ditched his jacket and wore only a baggy t-shirt with too-tight pants, and they clung to him with his sweat.

They had enough to buy some food and water for a few days, and his shoulders sagged with relief.

A murmur of voices rang through the air as the whole population jostled each other to try to get to their various destinations. Arlo spotted Seth among them, on his way to collect, and out of either courage or foolishness, Arlo discreetly flashed him a signal. Two middle fingers folded down, thumb extended. His heart beat wildly against his chest, and the signal was gone.

Seth grinned, his eyes brightening against his tanned skin. He opened his mouth but was soon lost to the crowd.

Arlo turned to look for the woman who sold food but his face smacked into someone’s shoulder. His eyes shot upward to look at the face of the angry girl he had seen last night.

Heat flared his cheeks. “Excuse me.” It was impulse, and it made him feel even hotter than before as he ducked away.

His heart was still racing and his neck was still hot as he knocked on the boards of the seller’s house. “What do you want?” she shouted.

Arlo ducked inside and dumped the money on the floor. It clinked and thudded on the wood. “I’d like to buy some water, bread, and…” he thought of Seth’s favorite. “And chestnuts.”

The woman squinted at the money on the floor, her gray hair cascading over one shoulder. She batted at Arlo as if he were nothing but an annoying mosquito. “I have no chestnuts.”

“Fine. Water and bread.” He swallowed the “please.”

“You don’t got enough money for bread too.” She glared at him with frog-like eyes.

Arlo kept his breath steady. “You sold water and bread to my uncle for… half this much.”

“Well, I don’t like smart-mouthed kids,” she spat. “Water or nothing.”

He clenched his teeth. “Fine. Just water, then.”

She huffed like he’d inconvenienced her for saying so. She raised a floorboard, lugged out a tin container not much bigger than a loaf of bread, and plopped it on the floor so hard some sloshed out and made a dark stain on the wood.

Arlo waited, but the woman flapped her hands at him, shrieking at him to get lost, so he grabbed the water and ran.

He stopped to catch his breath, searching the crowd and wondering if someone who had food would be willing to trade for money if he hadn’t just spent it all.

Sweat pooled on his forehead and he let himself take a drink from the tin. He panted and his temples throbbed. He had to save some for Seth, who would be working all day in the sun.

Where was Uncle? Arlo realized he hadn’t seen him for an entire day, which had to have meant something was wrong. Did they take him?

Arlo shook his head, correcting himself. No, not Uncle. If he knew his uncle, he was anything but… that.

He also doubted the man was really their uncle. But it didn’t matter.

Fingernails dug into the fleshy part of his shoulder, and he cried out, spilling some of the water on himself. Someone was dragging him, away from the crowd.

“Hey!” Arlo gasped. He spit out the hair slapping against his lips, and recognized the blonde girl.

Oh no, this can’t be good.

Arlo dragged his heels but only found pavement, no dirt. The girl was stronger. He twisted to see where she was taking him, but soon found he didn’t have to see. He knew when she dragged him over the rubber tube he’d tripped over ages ago, that they were headed for the junkyard.

So she wasn’t turning him in?

The girl finally stopped and turned to face him, but she didn’t let go of his shoulder. Arlo stared into a pair of deep-set, dark eyes and saw a fierceness behind them.

“Ow?” he said.

“You,” she said, shaking her head. “You—” But she stopped there.

“What?” Arlo hoped his voice sounded innocent enough.

“I could turn you in, you know. I could turn you in and get something out of it. Cake.” Her cheeks lifted in a smile.

The hollow aches of Arlo’s stomach awoke at that word. He shook his head, hoping he would sound curious, nothing else. “So why don’t you?”

Her smile faded, her lips pressed together. She looked him up and down and said, “Trish.”

Arlo lifted his eyebrows. Was that… supposed to be her name? He wasn’t sure he knew anyone’s names besides his and Seth’s.

“Well?” Trish sounded annoyed.

“I’m Arlo.” Everything about this felt wrong.

“Arlo,” Trish repeated. She smiled again.

“So that means you’re not going to turn me in, then?” Arlo swallowed his heartbeat.

“That depends.” She finally released him, and he rubbed the tender spots. “If I do, you’re never coming back, you know.”

“I know,” Arlo said, sounding a lot calmer than he felt. “No one ever comes back once they’re arrested.”

“You know why?” Trish placed her hands on her hips and paced in a circle. “Because I think they’re dead.”

Arlo only nodded.

“So if I ask you to do something for me to save yourself, would you do it?”

“Depends on what you’re asking,” he said uneasily.

“What if… you did it to save your brother? He is your brother, right?”

Arlo’s breath hitched. “What are you talking about?”

Trish narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t want me to turn your brother in, you’ll do as I say.”

“Where is Seth?” Arlo clenched his fists and stepped forward. Trish didn’t even flinch.

“You love him.”

Arlo jolted, fear shooting through his veins like electricity. “I do not!” His face burned.

“Then what do you call the way you’re acting?” A smug look crossed her face, but there was something else with it.

Envy.

“I call it him being my… my… that word has nothing to do with it! You’re going to get us both killed!”

He shouldn’t shout. He gulped down several deep breaths. “What is your condition?”

“I want you to fall in love with me.”

Fall in… Arlo gaped. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, but I know it’s a thing. And I want it.” Trish stared at him, and he noticed just how empty her eyes looked.

Arlo shuddered. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to do. He could try at least, if it was the only way to save Seth. He’d rather risk his own life by giving it a shot.

“All right,” Arlo muttered, pulling in a breath. He slipped the photograph from his waistband and unfolded it. Trish gasped from beside him.

“Is that what falling in love looks like?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at the happy faces.

Trish’s arms slipped around his neck and their cheeks touched. They both shivered at the contact.

“Do you feel any different?”

He shook his head.

“Me neither.” She sounded disappointed as they broke apart. “But you can fall in love with me, I know you can.”

Arlo’s heart pounded. I don’t know how… “Did you say that I l-love Seth?”

Trish nodded. “It’s obvious, in the way that you look at him and stuff.”

His whole life, love was illegal, and he’d been doing it all along. No one had the ability to stop him but himself.

Sacrificing himself for Seth had only seemed natural, but… that was love? His heart felt strangely light.

“What exactly can love do?” He wasn’t afraid to say the word anymore. That would be like refusing to breathe.

Trish took his hand, and it felt natural. “Let’s find out.”