She said I had to answer honestly if I was ever going to Reforge properly. I wanted to hide, if not physically, then to at least not have to speak my answer out loud. I was still recovering when Louise asked me how my training was going.

I stared at my phone, heart pounding, cursing myself for promising I would tell her everything. The truth was almost too strange to put into words.

When I pushed the pencil into my wrist, the world faded, set to a quarter opacity, an image of grandmother overlaid on top. She was writing with the pencil, and I felt a brief wave of sentiment—hopeful, whimsical—but did not catch exactly what she wrote. She had only written a few words. It was over too quickly, reality returning.

“It’ll be clearer when you Reforge it,” she said. “Come find me when you do.”

After that, I had a phoenix on my arm. I would be coding and part of its wing or tail would catch my eye. I’d hold my arm up to the light, admiring the abstract, elegant lines. It seemed to almost pulse. It was bold, and I would even say—and I never thought I’d say this about myself—sexy. When I twisted my arm, the phoenix responded, glimmering, each angle striking. I wanted Louise to see it, I realized, to trace her finger along its curves and bends.

I braced myself.

did meng tell you about the mechanics of reforging?

I knew it was after volleyball practice for her, when she would normally be hunkered down at her desk for some late-night studying before bed. Sure enough, she replied quickly.

I just know she ingests the pencil lead somehow and then bleeds it out

I told her how grandmother didn’t want me to bleed, that there was another way.

oh? what is it?

I closed my eyes and typed without looking.

to have sex. But that wasn’t quite right either. I erased and retyped. to become really aroused. Was being aroused enough though? I didn’t want to ask grandmother for all the details, and when she tried to tell me more, I shut her down. I only had one takeaway that grandmother insisted would work.

to have an orgasm

I sent it and stared at the message box. The indicator that she was typing came up, then went away again. Was she going through the same process I had, trying to find the right words? How do you even respond to something like that? Would she think it was my poor attempt at flirting?

Finally, she replied:

wow

I tried to come up with something witty to close the conversation. I didn’t know what I had hoped to get out of it.