Darcy is Not Dead

11: Cerebellum

They stopped chatting while Alice navigated Julius' map and decided what turns to make and when in a very family-road-trip manner. She and Darcy rarely fought on "roadtrips"—or ever, for that matter—the way she and Julius did. Their collective glass of tension was filled to the brim as they tooled along, and she was fully tuned to it and, likewise, Julius. Any sound he made, any movement, nearly sent the water boiling over to sink their ship.

    Julius taught her that she could, in fact, desire punching someone just for breathing too loudly.

    After two hours of banter and questions, Alice's voice went raw. Theo was no better, and with the echo against the tiles, they had taken to whispering before ceasing altogether. Theo extracted a notebook from his bag, and Alice leant over to observe his crisp, jagged handwriting. Every curve had sharp peaks, and breaks in his thoughts blotted on the tail end of words and punctuation.

    She liked his handwriting—and his pen, which she presumed attributed to the ink bleeds.

    As he wrote Alice's name, warmth bloomed in her chest. Her own hand's interpretation of her name was unremarkable after all these years, but seeing Theo's interpretation flustered her. She wished she could write her name the way he did.

    Her name was followed by, "is watching me write this" which preceded a far-too large period. He was thinking, she realized, and then amended herself after looking up into his face.

    He was watching her over the rim of his straight-edged glasses.

    She flushed. "Oh, sorry."

    "I don't mind," he said, though the way he stopped everything to stare at her said otherwise.

    In a reflexive attempt to divert her embarrassment, she reached for her satchel where it slouched between her feet on the metal belly of the boat. She pulled out her textbook where her mostly-finished homework from Arlo's tutoring session was wedged into the spine.

    "What's that red bit there?" Theo inquired, voice a low rasp.

    She flipped the bag open once more. The corner of the satchel had mostly dried and it was there where the radio sat. "It's a portable radio," she said, and held it up with a slight wave. "Doesn't really work down here. Bad reception or something."

    "Well, radio waves aren't reliable down here," Theo said, and it reminded her of Arlo's attentiveness in the dim light of the Speakeasy.

    She twisted the volume knob despite the radio being off. Her raw nails wedged into the groves, and the more they bit in, the more she felt the pieces of spongey wood that came off the stairs during her fall. "Arlo mentioned something about radar not working down here, either."

    Theo blinked, impressing upon her his bewilderment with brief hesitation. "That's... nearly a full connection. Radar uses radio waves."

    "Oh. I don't—That wasn't me being smart," she explained.

    "No need to be embarrassed."

    "It just wasn't on purpose."

    "You can take credit for it. I don't mind."

    Julius huffed, and the sound of him breathing nearly snapped the antennae in Alice's grasp. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

    "I don't get it," Theo said, sharp enough to break his whisper.

    Alice startled at the decibels they hadn't reached in an hour, and one glance back at Julius sent her withering. She crumpled her fury up like paper, but as sodden as she looked under Theo's reprimand, the paper was still nearly burning.