Кирстен Уайт - Paranormalcy

“Sure.”

“How can you stand traveling that way here, though? When I took that woman’s hand, I had no idea what was going on. It was all I could do not to freak out.”

“Oh, yeah, the Faerie Paths. They suck. You didn’t know she was a faerie?”

“I don’t know much about faeries, really.”

“Lucky. You don’t want to.”

“Why? Seems pretty useful, being able to open doors to anywhere.”

“Oh, sure. Super useful. But then you have to deal with the faeries.” I got started talking and somehow ended up telling him all about faerie history. I wasn’t sure how many faeries IPCA controlled, but the ones we did have hated us for it. I’d also heard that there were different types of faeries, but as far as I could tell there was just the one—beautiful, powerful, and psychotic. I explained as much as I could about how they manipulated the natural world to some extent and traveled pathways between Earth and the Faerie Realms, but that was one area Raquel wouldn’t talk much about. She always acted like faeries were around just for transportation, but I suspected there was more to it. I finished by telling him about all the operatives that had been lost over the years by screwing up a command.

“Why does IPCA use them if they’re evil?” he asked, confused.

“They aren’t evil. They aren’t even really immoral, per se. They’re amoral. They don’t operate on the same level that we do. For a faerie, the only thing that matters is what they want. That’s their good. Anything else is superfluous. So like how they kidnap people, not a big deal—they want the person, they take him. Or killing someone. If you live forever, how much does one mortal life matter in the scheme of things? When you exist outside time, cutting off the forty years a person has left is a non-issue. They don’t even notice.”

“So you like faeries?”

“Oh, heavens no. I think working with them is the dumbest thing IPCA could possibly do.”

“Why do they keep using them, then?”

“The first named command every faerie gets is to serve IPCA. They think they can control the faeries—I know they can’t,” I muttered darkly. I looked down at his sketch. “Man, you are so good at that.”

“Nice subject. And I like your outfit.” I couldn’t tell from his smile whether he was serious or poking fun at me.

“I can bring you some boots like this along with the shorts, if you want.”

He laughed. “Just because I can look like a girl doesn’t mean I want to dress like one.”

“You’re right. You probably don’t have the calves for them, anyway.” Standing, I stretched. “I’d probably better go. Technically I don’t even know where they’re keeping you.” I winked at him.

“You should take these, then. You can practice.” He handed me the sketchbook and pencils. “You’ll come back, right?”

“Sure. You’re the coolest person here.” He started to smile, so I shook my head, putting on a mockserious face. “Don’t be flattered—most of your competition is undead.”

I sat down on my chair and rolled backward out of his room. He watched me, laughing silently, and

I gave him a jaunty salute. Back in my unit, I pulled out the sketchbook and looked at his drawings.

Mine were pathetic in comparison, but I was much, much happier than I had been before I went to see him. Pulling out the pencils, I started practicing.

The whole next week I didn’t get a chance to sneak into Lend’s room. Between my usual classes and Raquel being extra attentive (read: annoying) I didn’t have any free time. Every day that I didn’t see him got more frustrating. Finally, the weekend came again. I was hoping against hope that Raquel would be busy.

The buzz at my door as I finished getting ready Saturday morning made me think otherwise. Raquel walked in, smiling. “Don’t you look nice,” she commented.

Of course I looked nice—I wanted to go see Lend that day. I forced a smile. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe we could go somewhere today. Anywhere you like—the beach, the mall again, a movie.”

“Really?” This was new. Usually field trips were carefully scheduled and coordinated. For the most part we visited museums that had to do with my current curriculum. I used to like that when I was younger. We’d walked around and I’d pretended Raquel was my mom and we were a normal mother and daughter. Of course, taking the Faerie Paths back always ruined the illusion.

“Things have been pretty hectic; we could both use a break.”

“Okay, sounds good!” I meant it. Much as I wanted to see Lend again, I hadn’t been out of the Center all week.

Her communicator beeped. She looked down at it and a deep, worried frown crossed her face. And then, just when I was expecting a sigh, Raquel swore. She swore. That had never happened before, not as long as I could remember. Whatever the news was, it had to be really, really bad.

“I’m sorry,” she said, already racing for the door. “It’s an emergency.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I watched her go. I wanted to know what was up, but I knew that unless it involved me she wouldn’t say anything. Never one to waste an opportunity, I grabbed my art supplies and the shorts I had ordered online, then headed for Lend’s room, surprisingly fluttery at the thought of seeing him again.

POETRY AND HOLDING HANDS

L end was lying on his bed with his back to the door when I got there. It must have been dead dull for him, trapped in here. I thought about letting him nap but figured he probably wouldn’t want to. I tossed the pair of basketball shorts at his head. It would be nice to look at him without having to worry about seeing through his projected clothes.

He sat up, startled. Then, seeing me, he grinned. He was wearing the cute black guy again today. I liked this one’s smile, but underneath Lend’s smile was just as nice. “Hey,” he said. “Took you long enough.”

I sighed, feigning nonchalance. “Some of us have a life, you know.”

“Yeah, I remember what that was like.” He pulled the shorts on underneath the covers. “Weird to have real clothes again.”

“Aren’t you freezing?”

He gave me a funny look. “It’s not cold in here.”

“You’re crazy.”

Pulling off the covers, he stood up. I laughed; the shorts were hanging over a pair of khaki pants.

The pants dissolved, leaving a great set of legs.

“So, have you been practicing?”

I sat on his bed. “Yeah, but I’m still not that good.” I handed him the sketchbook. He flipped through it, nodding.

“No, these are a lot better. And you’re really good with color.”

I beamed. He passed the sketchbook back to me and our hands brushed. I smiled and shook my head. “So weird.”

“What?”

“I just—I don’t know, I always expect you to feel like water or something. The first time I touched you to put on the ankle tracker, I was worried my hand would go right through you.”

He laughed. “Nope.”

“I thought it would be like putting my hand in cold water. But you’re really warm.”

He put his hand on top of mine. My heart did a happy jump inside my chest. “Your hands are freezing.”

“See? Cold in here. Told you.” I couldn’t help but frown a little when he moved his hand away.

“How was your week?” he asked.

“Pretty boring. Probably not as boring as yours, though.”

“Probably not.”

“What are they even doing with you? Are they going to just keep you in here forever?”

“Hopefully not. I’ve got some things I need to be doing. They’ve run tests on me, but I’m afraid I wasn’t very cooperative. And Raquel’s been to talk to me, trying to figure out where I came from and why I was going through her stuff.”