Page 101 of Cherish

“Actually, the town of Noromar pays for it,” I say. “It’s why it’s open to the public. It’s one of the town council’s pet projects.”

My friends are as fascinated by the co-op as Hudson and I are, and we spend a couple of hours wandering the different floors, looking at art and meeting artists. It’s a little disconcerting because more than one of them is actually working on a piece of Hudson at the moment, which freaks him out a little, especially when they ask him to pose for a few photographs that they can use in their work.

He’s pretty much taking it in stride by the time we make it through all three floors, though, and wander outside to one of my favorite parts of the co-op—the giant graffiti garden that stretches the length of the warehouse.

Between two massive walls that run parallel to each other, the garden stretches with flowers and stone pathways and benches with a different scene on each one. There’s a huge fountain in the center of the garden, also with benches around it so people can sit and admire the graffiti walls.

Both of them are covered in small murals, tagging, and random phrases that make me smile. Everything from hearts with people’s initials inside them to statements on life, both positive and negative, to quotes from favorite poems and songs.

“What’s this?” Flint asks as he wanders over to the huge metal cabinets set up at one end of the garden. I feel bad as I realize he’s limping a little—going up and down all the metal staircases inside must have aggravated his leg.

“The best part,” I tell him with a smile.

But then Flint stumbles over an out-of-place rock and Jaxon fades to him in a blink, grabbing his arm to help steady him. Which is apparently the wrong move, judging from the look Flint shoots him and the way he yanks his arm away.

Jaxon growls deep in his throat, but he doesn’t say anything. Just blows out an exasperated breath and stays where he is as Flint struggles the rest of the way to the cabinet on his own. Jaxon’s ebony gaze is focused on Flint as he stumbles a second time on the rocky path, but I can tell he’s respecting Flint’s unspoken boundary coming through loud and clear—if Flint wants Jaxon’s help, he’ll ask for it.

I can’t imagine how hard it’s got to be for both of them. Jaxon with his overprotectiveness on hyperalert because he wants to keep Flint from getting hurt again. And Flint determined to be independent and do things on his own.

Not knowing what to do to help them except try to ease the awkwardness, I hurry toward the cabinets and throw the doors wide open so everyone can see what’s waiting for them.

54

Spray a Little

Prayer for Me

“Spray paint?” Flint laughs as soon as he sees the contents of the industrial cupboards. “Are they for anyone?”

“Absolutely,” I answer, reaching in and pulling out a couple of different cans, which I hold out to him. “What color do you want?”

He looks at the different-colored lids in surprise. “So they aren’t all shades of purple?”

I realize he’s right. The spray paint comes in dozens of different colors, which is why the graffiti wall is so beautiful. It’s a mixture of every color imaginable, and I never realized it before. Or if I did, it didn’t register that the spray paint—and a lot of the art supplies, like the paints I used for my portrait of Hudson—had to come from somewhere else. That it couldn’t possibly be from Adarie or even somewhere else in Noromar.

Like the bakery tables and Souil’s sofas and the colored clothes so many people in town enjoy wearing, they must have been smuggled in. More proof that there really is at least one smuggler—Polo or someone he knows—working in Noromar. And if that’s the case, maybe Hudson’s plan on how to get back across the barrier really will work.

But it’s still several hours before midnight, so I decide to think about the smuggler later. Right now, I just want to have fun with my friends.

I grab a couple of cans for myself, blue and silver, then wait for my friends to do the same before heading over to the wall. We fan out and start spray-painting in whatever open space we can find.

Hudson draws a giant red heart and puts our initials in it, because he’s just that sappy. I roll my eyes at him, but he grins and adds several extra hearts floating around the main one.

“You’re a little gross. You know that, right?” Macy says as she paints a giant black spider right beside Hudson’s hearts.

Hudson sniffs. “I prefer to think of myself as romantic.”

“Yeah, well, I prefer to think of myself as awesome,” she tells him. “Doesn’t make it true.”

“It’s absolutely true,” I say, pausing in my own drawing of a wave to look at her. “You’re the most awesome person I know.”

“Gee, thanks,” Hudson deadpans.

I roll my eyes. “You’re my mate. You already know I think you’re awesome.”

“Yes, well, it never hurts to hear it.” But he’s grinning as he adds4-Everto the spot right below our initials.

Macy fake gags. “I think I’m going into sugar shock here.”

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