Page 9 of To Catch a Firefly

Lucky settles in front of the window, legs pulled up in front of him. I squeeze close, my hip against his. There’s not room to be any further apart and still see out the window, but it doesn’t matter. It never matters with Lucky.

“Why’d you do it, Ellis?” he asks. “Why’d you defend me?”

What’s he talking about?

You’re my friend. Of course I defended you.

He sighs. “Yeah, okay.”

I’m not sure why he seems almost sad, but then I catch sight of the color that’s starting to light the sky and point it out to Lucky.

“That’s pretty,” he says, leaning against me, his shoulder pressed to mine. We watch the oranges and purples streak across the sky for a couple minutes before Lucky pulls out his phone. He takes a few pictures, but my mind keeps tumbling over what happened today.

“Brandon?” I ask.

Lucky snorts. “He won’t be bothering me again.”

I’m glad he understood what I was asking, but I still raise an eyebrow, which Lucky catches.

“Ellis, buddy, I’m not sure if you’ve looked in the mirror lately, but no one at that school is going to touch me. Not ever again.”

My chest warms at that, and I feel a strange sense of pride that I could give that to Lucky. Hopefully, he’s right, and the assholes in town will leave him be. Why they care about his sexuality in the first place is beyond me.

Lucky’s eyes are aimed out the window when he says, “You don’t know what you look like, do you, El?”

I’m not sure what he means. Of course I know what I look like. Brown hair. Brown eyes. My dad’s nose, my grandpa’s height, and my mom’s eyebrows. I’m part of those who made me, but I’m justme, too.

I don’t have golden curls like Lucky that seem to glow in the low evening sun. Nor his bright, piercing eyes.

I’m just Ellis.

Lucky sighs, leaning his head against my shoulder. “Yeah. Okay.” I think I hear him saymy hero, but it’s so soft, I can’t be certain.

As the sky turns from a painted masterpiece to blackened night, the stars start to emerge. There’s so little light pollution here; they’re easy to see.

“Thanks for bringing me here, El,” Lucky says.

I nod.Of course.

“Days like this make me think…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, so I give him a nudge. His smile is a little off when he looks my way.

“They’re just good,” he says. “You know?”

I touch his lip, and his smile wobbles, breath leaving him in a rush.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Even with the split lip.”

Are they good enough to stay?

He doesn’t provide an answer.

When Lucky turns away, he fiddles with his phone. After messing with his camera settings, he props the device in the corner of the old, dusty window, steadying it with a stone that was beside his foot. “Slow exposure,” he explains, pressing the record button. “You don’t mind sitting here for another hour, do you?”

I huff.

“Good,” he says, laying his head back against my shoulder.

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