Becoming Calder (A Sign of Love Novel)(6)

That was one thing about my friend, Xander—he knew how to laugh at himself, a trait I had already figured out most adults still needed to work on.
"Aw, come on, sugar breath," Xander said, taking off toward the main lodge where we had planned to sit to get a good look at the new bride everyone wanted to see so badly.
"I hear she has the face of an angel, and the body of a goddess," Xander said, reverently.
I nodded my head. "That's what the foretelling said."
"I bet she looks like one of those ladies from the Academic Awards," Xander guessed, squinting upward as if picturing the People Magazine he'd swiped a couple months ago, the one we'd looked through together, hiding behind his cabin, the one with all the pictures of the painted ladies in long, bright colored dresses holding little, person-shaped, gold statues.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Nah, Hector wouldn't marry one of them," I said. "They're too," I paused, trying to think about what they were too much of for our family, "colorful," I decided. Although they must be plenty smart to have won such a big academic prize.
Xander rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know that. I meant, you know, take one of them with their pretty faces, and dress her in something like what Mother Miriam wears."
We were both silent for a minute. I was picturing drab old Mother Miriam with the frown on her face and the loose, gray dress. When I looked at Xander, he’d squinched his face up and I imagined he'd been picturing her, too, and found her lacking in comparison.
"Anyway," he said, losing the frown, "we'll know in a minute."
The sun beat down on our heads as we squatted in the dust against the log siding of the main lodge where the council lived. We figured we'd have the best view of them as they left the building to make their way to our Temple where Hector's blessed one was going to be introduced.
Xander picked up a stick and started digging in the dust at our sandaled feet. After a minute he glanced at me and whispered, "Bet I could sneak in there and swipe some butterscotch candies. I've looked in the window. They keep dishes of them around like it's nothing."
I gave him my best disapproving look and said, "It'd be a sin to steal from the council . . . from Hector. He provides for us."
Xander looked down at the ground where he was still using the stick to draw shapes in the dust. "I just wonder . . . why do they get sugar whenever they want it, but we have to . . . borrow it from the ranger's station?"
I picked up a stick nearby and started drawing in the dust, too. I didn't really have an answer for Xander's question so I stayed quiet. I also chose not to remind him it wasn't borrowing when you never intended to return it.
Xander was part of the group of workers who kept our family safe, and whenever he could, he snuck off to the ranger's station that led into the state park a couple miles down the road. He found all sorts of good things there from sugar cubes to magazines, once some Coca-Cola. I still thought about and longed for another can of the sweet, fizzy drink we had taken turns gulping down behind some trees near our crops. I was lucky he shared everything he found with me. I knew it wasn't right. But I didn't think it was enough of a sin that we'd have to stay behind when the gods came down to escort Hector's people to Elysium. I made sure to work just a little bit harder than I had to in order to offset the minor stealing Xander and I often engaged in.
"When I get chosen to be a member of the council and go into the big community and work, I'm going to keep a whole barrel of butterscotch candies in my office," I said, laughing. "I'll bring some back for you."
Xander laughed. "That'll be the day. If anyone is smart enough to get chosen for the council, it'll be me."
I snorted. "If that's the plan, we better both hope we get to Elysium soon and that the gods have butterscotch."
Xander's face got dreamy and he leaned back against the wood behind us. "I bet Elysium's made of butterscotch."
I thought about it for a minute and didn't think that sounded so good. It might be good at first, but after a while, you'd probably get sick of butterscotch this and butterscotch that . . . everything sticky, and then you'd be stuck in a place made of butterscotch for eternity and . . .
Xander's voice, which had been droning on, interrupted my thoughts as I continued to use the stick to sketch in the dirt. ". . . butterscotch clouds, and butterscotch flowers, and butterscotch houses, and butterscotch furniture . . ."
Suddenly we heard what sounded like a soft childish giggle and swiveled our heads back and upward and caught sight of a blonde head leaning quickly away from the window, likely a council member's kid. I looked back at Xander who had a confused look on his face and suddenly we heard a woman's voice calling, "Who's out there?" and the window above came slamming down.