Mated to a Human

☽ 9 ☾

The Black Lake Laboratory is nearly empty in the afternoon except for Marianne, my mom, and me. Marianne and I work in the basement — her, on museum stuff, and me, on storing random festival bits. She's far into the shadows and shelves, and I only know she's still there by the sounds of cardboard boxes and rolling Duck Tape.

It isn't only dark in the basement, however. The whole town is cast over with thick rain clouds, and I can still hear the weather even though I'm underground. The lightbulb above makes testy noises and flickers with the wind, and I continuously look up at it, hoping it doesn't go out.

Marianne emerges from the basement's far corner saying, "I'll be back," as she passes me on her way to the stairs. I watch her ascend and then her and my mother's voices go back and forth in muffled mutters.

I resume packing a box on the junk table consisting of small prizes to be used again next year: rubber ducks in varying costumes, headbands with bats on small springs, stuffed pumpkins in a variety of colors, and a plethora of seasonal toys.

I hear something fall on the ground from the depths of the basement where Marianne was. I pause my packing and venture back to make sure nothing is broken, and I find her makeshift workstation on an old empty bookcase. A folder is lying on the ground with papers spilling out of it, so I crouch, pick it up, and straighten all the papers before placing the folder on the top of the bookcase.

Not wanting to linger in the creepy back corners, I retrace my steps briskly and see someone coming down the splintering staircase before I reach the junk table. The steps groan and creek and a hand grabs the floorboards above. Harvey ducks to avoid hitting his head, and then his eyes are on me the rest of the way. My fingertips drag against the tabletop, and I anchor, feeling my panic settle around me.

"Are you looking for something?" I improvise. "I was just organizing some of the festival stuff. The vintage banner is upstairs...if that's what you're trying to find."

He glances up when someone's heels click directly above us, and his leather jacket sheens under the basement's faulty light. "No. I'm looking for you."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because you know."

I buckle, facing the table to escape his calm yet heavy gaze. I rummage through the already-packed prizes, pretending to look for something. "I know?" I question obliviously. "Why would I know why you're—"

"Abby exposed herself, and then she exposed me too."

My hands freeze. "She told you?"

Harvey's footsteps carry closer, so I face him in hopes he will stop, but he doesn't. He confirms, "She told me. "

"I-I won't tell anyone."

"You won't?"

He stops once I'm within arm's reach. My hands start to shake. "I won't, I promise," I say, my voice smaller than expected.

Harvey's head tilts slightly, but his attention is totally fixed. My heart hammers as I wait for his approval or any sign he won't take precautions to ensure his secret is safe, yet he maintains his poker face.

"Mia!"

My mom's call hooks me from upstairs. I slip around Harvey and head up the staircase, but I look back for just a second because I feel like I have to. Harvey watches me leave, and I do so without another word.

My mom collects me at the doorway from the hall into the Society room, and I see other society members settling into their chairs around the meeting table. "I lost track of time," she says. "Go on and go. Tell your dad to leave me some butter chicken."