“What do you think?” Theo asks. “I know he’s your favorite character, so you probably already have this, but I thought this one was cool, especially since he’s got that seen-better-days roughness going on.”
I nod. It’s true: this Ron Weasley figurine is a little beat-up, the paint chipped on his red hair and black robe. But he’s not my favorite character. It’s an easy mistake because Ron is my favorite in the trio—sorry Harry, sorry Hermione—and it’s not as if they make ornaments for characters that were only alive and important in one book. But Cedric Diggory is my absolute favorite character in the series, in any book, really. When Cedric died at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, I cried for way longer than I’ve ever admitted to anyone. Cedric’s death is no doubt my most painful loss ever. But it’s okay, it’s not like I know for sure who Theo’s favorite Star Wars character is. I want to say Yoda, but that sounds stupid, even to me. It’s the thought that counts.
“This is awesome,” I say. “And I don’t own it already, so thanks.” I wonder if the previous owner got over the series and pawned this little guy for fifty cents or something. One man’s loss and all that, I guess. “Okay. Your turn.” I’m missing the emptiness of the train we rode out, hyperalert that there are nameless spectators watching us exchange gifts and drawing their own conclusions about how we must be dating. It sucks that they’re wrong. It double sucks that there’s a chance Theo may be too scared to even be my friend after today.
Theo slides the puzzle out of the bag and his eyes widen. “Hell yes. Eight hundred pieces. You have to put this together with me.”
“What’s the story behind it?”
Theo studies it for a moment. “It’s about the impending zombie-pirate apocalypse, obviously.”
“Obviously. Tell me, how did the pirates get hit with the virus before anyone else?”
“The zombie virus has always existed, but the scientists knew it was best to keep it as far away from land as possible. They knew humans by nature are stupid and bored and would do something like unleash hell on the world if it meant not having to go to their dead-end jobs on Monday morning. Scientists contained the virus on an island—I’m redacting the name because I can’t trust you with this secret, Griff—and they didn’t account for the raging storm you see here destroying the island and releasing the virus until it became airborne, hitting the traveling pirates first. Well, infecting the parrot of Captain Hoyt-Sumner first, who carried the virus onto The Pillaging Mary.”
Only then do I lose it and smile. “How the hell are you coming up with these names?”
“I didn’t make it up, it’s in all the textbooks. Read up on your future’s history,” Theo says.
“What’s the parrot’s name?”
“Fulton, but everyone calls her Rot Feathers after she makes all the pirates undead. They later renamed the ship The Bloodcurdling Crawler, which feels appropriate.”
I really want to spend an hour inside his head, climbing all the different whirling clockwork gears.
“These zombie pirates are smart enough to rename their ship?” I ask him. “We’re screwed.”
“You better be my partner against the zombie pirates,” Theo says. “I know how to save us.”
Theo launches into different strategies we can employ to survive the apocalypse. We’ll need to build a fortress somewhere up high, with cannons and other practical weapons, like military crossbows that shoot flaming arrows. Easy: I almost feel like I can already wield one from all the fantasy books I’ve read. Apparently, I’ll also have to learn how to cook because Theo will be too busy keeping watch twenty-four/seven. He’s pretty sure he’ll have figured out the key to eternal unrest while the undead are among us—and won’t have time to cook or we’ll end up dinner ourselves.
“Sound good, Griff?”
“I can’t promise the food I cook will even be edible, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”
Theo holds out his hand and we shake on it, locking down our roles in the zombie-pirate apocalypse. Touching him gets my heart pounding, fast and heavy.
I let go. “I have to tell you something.” The subway car is rattling and loud, and the curious eyes have drifted. Everyone else is lost in their own worlds.
“There’s something I have to tell you, too,” Theo says.
“Who goes first?”
“Rock, paper, scissors?”
We both play rock.
“Same time?” Theo suggests.
“I don’t think my thing is something to shout at the same time. You can go first.”
“Trust me. I’m betting we’re both going to say the same thing. It’ll be easier this way,” Theo says.
I’m not going to keep fighting him on this. Maybe what he has to say is worse than mine, and I won’t feel as bad.
“Countdown from three?”
“Four.”
Theo half-smiles, then nods. “Four, three, two, one.”