Chapter 28: Boredom Strikes
The peace of the beach house had curdled into a thick, syrupy boredom. The distant hum of the ocean, so soothing hours before when she was pressed between them, now felt like a taunt. Harmony sprawled across the worn leather couch, the cool material sticking to her bare legs. She pointed her toes at the television, clicking through channels with a lethargic flick of her ankle. A cartoon bear, a news anchor with a too-stiff smile, a commercial for bleach. Nothing held her attention for more than three seconds.
Her pout deepened, pulling at the corners of her mouth. The empty house amplified every small sound—the rustle of her shirt, the sigh of her own breath. It was too quiet. After the feverish intensity of the bedroom, the silence felt like a rejection.
Her eyes scanned the room, landing on the object leaning against the fireplace. Harley’s bat. The wood was stained in places, the metal at the tip dulled from impact. A relic from another life, now propped up like an umbrella.
With a grunt, she rolled off the couch and padded over to it. The handle was cool and familiar in her grip. She hefted it, feeling the satisfying, dangerous weight. Dragging it back to the coffee table, she let the tip hover over the scarred wood surface.
Clang.
The sound was sharp, a metallic punctuation in the quiet room. She waited, listening. Nothing.
Clang… clang… clang.
She fell into a rhythm, a slow, monotonous beat that echoed through the empty space. It was a distress signal, a bored kid’s rebellion, a way to fill the void they had left behind. Each strike was a question. Where are you?
“If you put another dent in my table, I’m going to fertilize you with something particularly unpleasant.”
Harmony jumped, the bat clattering to the floor. Ivy stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a bundle of fresh herbs in one hand and a smudge of soil on her cheek. She didn’t look angry, just… assessing.
“It was already dented,” Harmony muttered, retrieving the bat and holding it to her chest like a security blanket.
“Yes, and you were well on your way to giving it a matching set.” Ivy placed the herbs on the kitchen counter and walked over, her movements fluid and silent. She plucked the bat from Harmony’s grasp with effortless authority and set it aside. “Where’s your other half?”
“Dunno. She was here when I fell asleep.” The clinginess in her own voice made her wince. She sounded like a child who’d lost her mother in a supermarket.
Ivy’s gaze softened. She reached out, tucking a stray curl behind Harmony’s ear. Her fingers were cool and smelled of earth and mint. “Harley doesn’t do ‘quiet’ for long. You know that. She’s probably down at the boardwalk, terrorizing a hot dog vendor or winning a stuffed animal she has no use for.”
“Without me?”
“The world doesn’t stop just because we’re having a cuddle, little one.” Ivy’s tone was gentle, but the words stung. “She’ll be back. She always comes back.”
The front door slammed open with enough force to rattle the pictures on the wall. “Honey, I’m ho-ome!” Harley’s voice sang out, followed by the scuff of boots on the tile floor. She appeared in the living room archway, her face flushed, pigtails slightly askew, and carrying a large, greasy paper bag that filled the air with the scent of salt and fried dough.
“See?” Ivy said, a smirk playing on her lips.
Harley’s eyes zeroed in on Harmony’s slumped posture. “Whoa, what’s with the face, H? You look like you just found out they discontinued your favorite brand of sparkly lip gloss.” She dumped the bag on the coffee table, right where Harmony had been tapping the bat. “Brought contraband. Funnel cakes. Extra powdered sugar, just how you like.”
Harmony didn’t move from the couch. “You left.”
Harley froze, a funnel cake halfway out of the bag. She glanced at Ivy, then back at Harmony. Her expression shifted from cheerful to cautiously understanding. “Yeah. I got… twitchy. All that calm was makin’ my teeth itch. Needed to go punch the sky for a minute.” She sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing Harmony, her knees bumping against hers. “Didn’t mean to leave you hangin’.”
“The house got big,” Harmony mumbled, looking down at her hands.
“Aww, c’mere, you.” Harley dropped the pastry and wrapped her arms around Harmony, pulling her into a tight hug that smelled of sunshine, sweat, and sugar. “I’m back now. And I brought you deep-fried happiness.”
Ivy settled into an armchair, pulling her legs up underneath her. “Did you at least pay for this deep-fried happiness, or are we expecting a visit from the Ocean City PD?”
“I paid!” Harley said, releasing Harmony and tearing off a piece of funnel cake. “Mostly. The guy was a little… persuasive.” She winked, handing the largest, sugariest piece to Harmony.
Harmony took it, the sweet, greasy warmth finally pulling a small smile from her. “Mostly?”
“Let’s just say he saw the error of his ways when I suggested his profit margin was about to take a serious hit.” Harley’s grin was all sharp edges and delight. She looked around, her energy beginning to vibrate through the room again, displacing the stagnant quiet. “So! Now that the gang’s all back together… who wants to go burn something down?”
Ivy sighed, a long-suffering sound that held a world of affection. “It’s a Tuesday, Harley.”
“Exactly! Nothing ever happens on a Tuesday. We’d be doing a public service.” Harley jumped up, grabbing her bat from where Ivy had left it. She spun it in her hand, the weapon now an extension of her restless joy. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. We’ll find some scumbag who deserves a light show. Harmony, you can pick the target.”
Harmony looked from Harley’s blazing eyes to Ivy’s resigned amusement, the last of her lonely mood evaporating in the face of their combined chaos. The empty house was full again. She took a final bite of the funnel cake, licked the sugar from her fingers, and stood up.
“Okay,” she said, her voice steady. “But I’m driving.”