7. Different Wavelengths

CHAPTER SEVEN

DIFFERENT WAVELENGTHS

The Past: Patrick at Bay L’Ours without Sato

Apparently, it was some kind of truth or dare. Or spin the bottle. Except it was all about revealing secrets. So, Patrick guessed, just the truth part of truth or dare .

Mary Charlotte had a foreign exchange student staying with her who had taught her this new game. Mary Charlotte really wanted to play it. Amongst the L’Ours High sophomores, what Mary Charlotte wanted, Mary Charlotte got.

To be fair to Mary Charlotte (although, why should he be?), with enough alcohol sixteen– year-olds will try pretty much anything.

Patrick was actually enjoying himself, but then Patrick always tended to enjoy himself at parties these days.

It was a gift.

Essentially the idea, in this instance, was that everybody sit around the coffee table, lounging on couches and in armchairs and on the floor, and put their hands in the air with all five fingers open. Then everybody shut their eyes.

Then Mary Charlotte would ask a question about whether you’d done some sexual act or another. If you hadn’t done it, you could put a finger down. But if you had done it you had to keep the finger up.

Then there was another question.

And another question.

Until they hit five questions. Then everybody opened their eyes, and… surprise, we all got to figure out who’s the slut in the room!

Patrick was pretty nosy and totally interested in everybody else’s sex lives. Also, he was pretty sure that he and Sato had managed most of the things needed to qualify for slut-hood amongst his peers (except actual penetration). Thus he was bound to be both the superior slut every single time and find out how slutty everyone else was. Win win!

“Let’s start easy,” said Mary Charlotte. “Who here has held somebody’s hand in a romantic way?”

Patrick left all five fingers up. That would be a definite yes . Not that Sato was a big hand holder, his being webbed and all. But they had done it a few times. Mostly so he could tug Patrick out of the way of oncoming traffic and useful stuff like that.

Patrick still thought it counted.

“Okay, number two,” said Mary Charlotte. “Who here has kissed somebody on the cheek that they’re interested in dating?”

Patrick thought that one was kind of weird. Who kissed on the cheek at their age? Was Mary Charlotte secretly lusting after a Little House on the Prairie kind of romance? How quaint.

He put down one finger.

Mary Charlotte pressed on. “Who has kissed somebody? Like a proper actual romantic kiss on the lips.”

That was an easy one, Patrick left four fingers up.

“Okay, next. Who has French kissed, with tongue and everything.”

A few people around the table giggled nervously. Mary Charlotte was having none of it. “It’s gonna get worse,” she said. “Last one for this round! Who has actually necked?”

Patrick still had four fingers up at the end of the first round. He didn’t get the cheek kiss one, but he’d earned a solid four out of five.

Mary Charlotte sounded pleased with how things were going. “Okay, everyone, open your eyes.”

Patrick looked around eagerly, just like everyone else. Most of them had three fingers up. That’s the thing about being in a small town, nothing else to do. Most kids got sexed-up early. Patrick examined each person’s hands, looking for surprises.

Jolene, the super geeky girl with cat eye glasses and too-short bangs, had all of her fingers still up. Patrick thought that was pretty cool. It was always the ones you least suspected. She probably went to comic conventions and such. Everybody knew those places were wild . He gave her an approving smile. She made a very embarrassed face. He waved his own four fingers at her. She smiled at him then.

Mary Charlotte noticed Patrick’s wiggling hand. “Would you like to confess to which one you haven’t done, Patrick?” she needled him.

Patrick would confess to anything, even something he had done, if it amused others and got him attention. Well, almost anything. Not his shifter identity, of course. Or his parents’ work. But his sex life was pretty much fair game, as far as he was concerned. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Sato was a fantastic boyfriend, all things being equal – thorough and very focused, and incredibly intense. Patrick suspected, as first boyfriends went, he’d been spoiled.

He said, “The cheek question was weird. You know that, right? Only old people in twenty-year-long relationships kiss each other’s cheek. That’s for grandparents or whatever.”

Mary Charlotte looked pleased. “So you’re saying you’ve done all of the others?”

Patrick looked at his hand as though it had betrayed him. “Fingers don’t lie.”

Mary Charlotte giggled and then turned to everybody else at the table. “Some people, we know, are going to brag, and others may be lying, because it’s all on you to be honest in this game.”

Patrick didn’t like Mary Charlotte very much. She gave him attitude all the time. Patrick felt like attitude was his responsibility at their school. For identity politics reasons. Yes, yes, he was the gay kid , but he was also an otter. Otters were made of pure uncut attitude .

Mary Charlotte spread her attention and curiosity around, asking some of the other kids about their experiences and why some of their fingers were down.

Patrick mostly paid attention. He was intrigued, but they were all still teenagers, and they were all, so far as he could tell, regrettably straight.

At that juncture, Patrick realized that he was under scrutiny.

This party was mostly sophomores but there were a few interloping juniors and seniors, and even a lucky freshman or two. But since they all went to the same school, he should know all of them by sight. The kid sitting across from him had all of his teeth and all of his fingers up but Patrick didn’t recognize him.

Patrick didn’t like mysteries.

So he said, during a brief lull in Mary Charlotte’s inquisition, “Who are you?”

Mary Charlotte, the hostess with the mostess, answered for the stranger. “Oh, that’s just my cousin from Chicago. He’s staying with us for winter break.”

Patrick grinned at the Chicago cousin. “Well, hello there. I’m Patrick.”

“I gathered as much.”

“Chicago, really? That’s cool.”

“Especially in winter.” Oh, this one thought he was a comedian? Patrick was undaunted; he could be charming and funny too.

“This has to be weird for you.” Patrick gestured at the assembly but he meant small town, deep South.

“Not really. They’ve exiled me down here before.”

“Lucky you.” Patrick wondered why he’d never noticed him. Probably because during breaks he and Sato were usually off swimming.

“I agree with you about the cheek kissing. Weird question.” The Chicago boy had a nice soft smile and very blue eyes.

“But you left all your fingers up.”

“I believe in trying everything at least once.”

A man after Patrick’s own heart.

Mary Charlotte apparently did not like Patrick and her cousin talking without her sanction. She called their focus back to herself.

“Shall we play another round?”

Chicago cousin hid a smile and said in a low, soft voice for Patrick’s ears alone, “She wants your attention.”

“ Me ?” Patrick was startled.

Mr Chicago wiggled his eyebrows.

Really? Patrick had always thought it was obvious that he was gay. Apparently, not to sixteen-year-old Mary Charlotte. Awkward . However, she was the queen in charge and he wasn’t going to blatantly out himself. Especially when it shouldn’t be necessary. That seemed like overkill.

So instead he said, “All right, let’s play another round, shall we?”

So they continued with the game. Moving on and through various sexual acts including leaving hickeys, getting hickeys, licking somebody’s ear, licking somebody’s elbow, kissing hands, nibbling ankles, oral sex, and so forth. Patrick thought the game was more insightful into Mary Charlotte’s erotic imagination, which was clearly a little confused about levels of intimacy, but he remained amused enough to play along.

When he opened his eyes at the end of the third round, he and his new friend across the table had all of their fingers up. Kindred sluts. He gave the boy a cheeky wave.

Mr Slutty Chicago grinned at him. He had a nice smile. It crinkled those bright eyes.

Patrick smiled back. “Are all the boys in Chicago fifteen fingers of fun?”

The boy laughed.

There was something about the way he looked at Patrick. It made Patrick wonder if the reason this human could check fifteen things off of the proverbial list was because the two of them were on the same kind of life path. Although Mr Slutty Chicago’s experience in this regard was no doubt with a man much less hot than Sato.

They played another round.

Both of them left all five fingers up.

Patrick wished there was a secret signal for asking if a boy were gay. Like some hand gesture or table-tapping morse code. Instead, he tested the only way he knew how. Which was to lower his eyelids, because he had very long lashes, and then open them again slowly, looking upwards at his new friend. Patrick knew his eyes were by far his best feature. Huge and limpid and dark. Sato called them fathomless .

The boy across the table from him looked like he wanted to drown in them. Patrick found this highly gratifying and took it as confirmation of a pro-dick-sucking agenda.

Mr Slutty Chicago had indicated yes to the oral sex question. Now Patrick knew which kind of yes.

Just then, Patrick’s cell phone rang. There was only one person who ever called him on that phone, so Patrick leapt up from the table.

“Where are you going?” asked Mary Charlotte, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Nothing and no one could stop him from talking to Sato, certainly not some two-bit party humans with questionable taste in beer and attire.

“Patrick, you can’t leave, the game is just getting started.”

Patrick gave her a look. He knew there were tons more sex acts. But he doubted many of the people there had done any of them. Except maybe Mr Slutty Chicago.

Mary Charlotte was just going to make a fool of herself asking questions and then blame them for her embarrassment.

“I have to take this call,” he said and dashed out toward the beach.

“Hello?”

“Why are you breathless?” Sato sounded so good. Mostly because he was Sato but also he didn’t need to smoke anymore to hide that extra-smooth siren voice of his.

“I had to run out of a party.”

“You’re at a party?”

“What else do you expect me to do on a Saturday night?”

“It’s Saturday?”

Patrick ignored that. Merfolk had a great sense of tide but a notoriously terrible sense of time. “For your information, we were playing a very exciting game.”

“Oh, were you? Did you win?”

“Yes, of course. With your help. Apparently you have made me a fourteen-point slut du jour.”

“ What did you just say?”

“Only a slut for you, of course, babe.”

“Babe? What are you talking about?” A pause while Sato muttered, clearly to himself, “What are you getting up to without me keeping an eye on you?”

“It’s fine, babe . I doubt the others actually believe me, and we never got onto the really juicy acts.”

“Did we do those, babe ?”

“Oh yeah, I remember us getting pretty sticky a time or two. There was that one night with the unagi sauce and…”

“Enough.”

Patrick couldn’t tell if Sato was stopping him because he was annoyed or getting turned on from the memory. Probably a bit of both.

“It turns out some of them might even think I was doing it with a girl .”

“Really? How bizarre.” Sato sounded genuinely amused.

“Right? But enough about me, how are you doing? How’s training? What are the other guys like? Is anybody flirting with you? Do I need to swim over there and ruthlessly nibble at my rivals?”

“What are you chittering about? As if anyone but you would ever put up with me. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m not really supposed to talk about it. Which is weird. Because it’s mostly stuff that only merfolk would care about anyway. I guess military sea people are just like other military types. Vangill is supposed to exist under a shell of silence.”

Sato was saying a lot more than he usually did. Which meant he had a window of phone time without supervision for a change, and wanted to get it all out fast. He wasn’t a natural talker, never had been.

Patrick wanted to know whether Sato was getting any better at using his spurs. He wanted to know where Sato ranked compared to the other vangill in training. He bet his boyfriend was at the top of the class. Patrick wanted details on what the training was like. Was it all underwater or did they go up on land? He was full of questions, but Sato abruptly stopped talking. Somebody had come close enough to overhear.

So Patrick asked what he hoped was an innocuous question. “Are they feeding you? Are you eating enough?”

“I’m not a child. I can actually take care of myself. Especially underwater.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t miss your dad’s cooking.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Do you miss me a little too?”

“More than you could possibly imagine.” There was a sound of murmuring voices in the background – melodic masculine ones. Then an order was barked out. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh wait but?—”

Sato swore. “I never asked about your family. Are you okay without me?”

“I don’t want to talk about my damn family. I never want to talk about them. I want to talk about you and—” I’m never okay without you.

“I have to go.”

“When will you call again?”

But Sato had already hung up.

Patrick sighed and pocketed the phone. Mary Charlotte’s parents’ beach house behind him was all light and activity, cheerful. He felt suddenly lonely.

He’d wandered down to the shore during the course of the conversation. Even though it was late, and there was a house full of humans behind him, he wanted nothing more than to strip and go for a swim.

It really wasn’t safe for a small river otter to go swimming alone at night. He only wanted to do it because it would remind him of Sato. But it would probably just make him feel worse and more alone. Better to go back to the party, where he could pretend he was having a good time.

“Important call?” Apparently Mr Slutty Chicago had followed him out and down to the beach.

Patrick had a brief moment of panic, wondering if he’d said anything he shouldn’t on the phone. Anything that indicated what he was, or what Sato was. But thinking back, it had pretty much just been banal boyfriend talk.

Then he had a brief moment of fear. This was only a human, but a human boy bigger than him, and Sato was thousands of miles away and Patrick did have a tendency to get himself into trouble.

Patrick decided on a diversionary-tactic-meets-the-always-useful charm offensive. “I didn’t even get to tell him about my new job.”

Mr Slutty Chicago was willing to be distracted. He approached Patrick carefully, as if Patrick were skittish. “Shall we walk along the water and you can tell me about it instead?”

Patrick always thought it was an odd human thing to walk along the waterfront and stare out at the ocean, especially when you had no intention of going into it. Also he wasn’t sure about being alone with a stranger, but if all else failed he could disappear into the ocean. It was right there, after all.

So he allowed himself to be turned gently by the shoulder, and they started strolling together. “So this job you didn’t get to tell your… boyfriend?… about?”

Patrick didn’t answer the question within the question, simply started chattering. Partly because he didn’t really feel like talking about Sato, but also because he was genuinely excited about his new job. Also, it was an excuse to be witty. And he did enjoy the attention. Mr Slutty Chicago was no Sato (who was?), but he was kinda cute.

“There is a new café opening up. I’m going to be their first trainee barista. I’m looking forward to it. I think it’ll be tons of fun. Talking with people and making drinks.”

“You seem like the sociable type. Is it the town’s first café?”

“Like a proper one that does espresso and stuff? Not a diner. Yeah. I think most of the locals will be against it. Especially as it’s taking over the old bait shop. And that was an institution . But I think tourists will really like it. If the owner does something smart like get donuts, or pie, or some other draw, then the town will embrace it.” Humans never could resist pie.

“It sounds like you have a business plan for them.”

“Well, this may be my first real job, but I have lived here all my life.”

“Do you like it here?”

No one had ever asked Patrick that question. “Honestly? I don’t know. It’s always just been where I live. But I’m starting to think about getting out. Maybe applying for college, stuff like that.”

Mr Slutty Chicago let the quiet draw out for a moment. It reminded Patrick of Sato.

“I’m smart enough.” Patrick defended himself against the telling silence. “I mean, I know I seem like a feckless slacker, but my grades are actually pretty good. Plus I do lots of extra- curricular activities. I should look good on college applications. It’s just that I have to get a scholarship.”

“You’re not like most of Mary Charlotte’s friends, are you?”

Patrick had a moment of nerves. Did the Chicago boy know Chicago shifters of some kind? Had he been spotted as a fur-sprouter? Was he about to be outed?

“That’s an interesting thing to say.” He decided to be neutral and flat.

“No offense. I think it’s a great thing. Where do you wanna go to college?”

Patrick hadn’t really considered it. It was a new idea. He’d opened his mouth and said it because it seemed like something a teenage human from Chicago would understand. “I don’t know. I mean I’m only a sophomore. I have time to decide.”

“Not a whole lot of time. I mean, you have to think about what size college you want. Where it might be located. Where you have a good chance of getting in. What kind of programs do they have.” The human’s sharp eyes focused on Patrick. Like his cousin, he clearly had Grand Inquisitor inclinations. “What do you want to major in? Which part of the world do you want to live in?”

Patrick thought about Sato. Sato didn’t like large cities. So it would have to be a rural campus. And it would need to be near the ocean, of course.

“Probably something on one of the coasts.”

“Do you like the water?”

“Can’t really live without it.”

“So what about a major? Do you have a department in mind?”

“You’re very curious.” Patrick was used to being the most inquisitive person in a room.

“You’re very interesting.”

“Well, I’m kind of into drama. I’d love to go to an acting school.”

His companion brightened considerably. “Really? I’m into film studies. I always wanted to go to art school.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d love to become a director or a film editor or something like that.”

“Do you know where you wanna go?”

“Not only that, I know where I’ve already gotten in.”

“Oh! You’re older than me?”

“Senior.”

“So tell me?” Patrick was genuinely curious.

“I’m going to Jiggly Yard!” Mr Slutty Chicago said it in such a bright, prideful manner that Patrick had to assume it was a very big and important college, especially if you were interested in film.

“Oh, cool! Is it in LA?” he hazarded a guess.

“You don’t know about Jiggly Yard?”

Patrick probably would’ve been embarrassed, except that he wasn’t a human teenager, and nobody in his family had ever considered going to a human university before. He was the first of his siblings to even attend a human high school. Frankly, he was thinking about college because it would be a great way to escape said family. Still, it was genuinely the first time he’d talked about it, which meant he basically knew nothing on the subject.

“Never heard of it, sorry. I’m an ill-educated country bumpkin.” Otter , he substituted in his own head. “Why don’t you introduce yourself to me properly? Then you can tell me all about it.” he suggested, knowing he sounded flirtatious. Using it like a kind of weapon. Wanting to be liked by this sophisticated Northern boy. Missing Sato and his devotion like an ache. Wondering if this was what he did when he was trying to fill that void. Defensive flirting.

The older boy laughed happily. “Okay. So, hi. I’m Zach Figg. I’m from Chicago. I’m a senior in high school. I’ll be a freshman at Jiggly Yard University, in the film department, starting next fall.”

“Patrick Inis. I’m a sophomore and I have no idea what I’m doing with my life.”

Zach laughed again, clearly delighted with him. “Maybe I can help you with that. Can I tell you how awesome Jiggly Yard is?”

“That sounds great. I would like nothing more, quite frankly.”

“Can I ask you something intrusive first?”

“Sure, I guess.” Patrick was unsure about that, feeling a little unsafe.

“You aren’t actually interested in dating my cousin, are you?”

Patrick was so surprised he stopped slogging through the sand. “Mary Charlotte? Are you joking?”

“Good, this could get awkward fast, otherwise.”

“But I’m not avail…”

“Don’t break my heart right away, okay? Let me have a little hope for a while.”

Patrick closed his mouth and nodded reluctantly. Then gave his brightest smile, aimed to get Zach talking about himself. People always loved to do that. “So, Jiggly Yard?”

“Okay, let’s start with the best part, shall we? It’s in New York City.”