The Blue Girl (26 page)

“I didn’t think any of that bothered you,” I say.

“It doesn’t, really. I just have to keep reminding myself that whatever we create, whether it’s a work of art or a child, they go on to live their own lives, to make their own connections to all the things we can’t influence, or sometimes even warn them about. All we can do is stand back and watch and hope we did a good enough job with what we made.”

“You did a great job, Mom.”

She smiles. “Well, if that’s the case, it was luck more than planning, though I always wanted the best for both of you.”

“Jared’s perfect,” I assure her, “and I—well, I get along fine. Really.”

When she stands up, I do, too.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“Then I think I’ll go to class. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“The funny thing is,” she says, “for all the trouble you can get into, I actually believe that.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, and give her a hug.

“I have to worry,” she says into my blue hair. “That’s a parent’s job, and I don’t think it ever stops.”

She kisses me, gives my blueness another long look, then shakes her head and heads off to school. I get myself another coffee and have a piece of toast with it while I wait for 9:30 to arrive. As soon as it does, I call the record store. Thomas answers, and I can feel his relief when he recognizes my voice.

“I’m glad you called. I was getting worried.”

“We’re all fine,” I say. “We chased off the bad guys and bought ourselves a little time, but I ended up blue.”

“Don’t be. We’ll work this out.”

“No, I mean I’m literally blue—all over. Every inch of my skin.”

“Oh.” He waits a beat, then adds, “I’d like to see that.”

“You would.”

“Hey, I’m your boyfriend.”

He really is, isn’t he? And he doesn’t think I’m nuts. How cool is that?

“Did you learn anything from your grandmother?” I ask.

“Getting rid of house fairies like your friend Pelly said are living in the school is easy. You just have to leave them a gift of new clothes and thank them for the great job they’ve been doing.”

“That really works?”

“So Granny says.”

I think of how grubby the school is, which is no surprise, considering it’s got lazy fairies and an alcoholic custodian.

“What if they’ve been doing a lousy job?” I ask.

“You lie. It works either way.”

“And the soul-eaters?”

“She says there are stories about all sorts of demon spirits—old hags that feed on children, fearsome black dogs with blazing eyes
,phoukas
who will try to drown you—but nothing like the ones you describe.”

“So no help there.”

“Well, she did say that such creatures feed on your fear, so if you come into contact with them, you should show them respect, but no fear.”

I shiver, remembering how I felt from just those glimpses I had last night of what’s in the shadows.

“Easy for her to say,” I tell him.

“I suppose.”

“Did she have any advice on how to bring the battle to them?”

Thomas laughs. “Well, I didn’t quite put it like that, but apparently on Halloween—”

“Which is tomorrow.”

“Which is tomorrow,” Thomas agrees. “On Halloween the borders between the worlds are hazy. If you can find a fairy mound, or some other place known to be their haunt, and run around it nine times, you can gain entry into the fairy realms.”

“I wonder—are they stronger or weaker there?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that you’re not supposed to eat or drink anything in Fairyland. I think you’re safe unless you do.”

We talk a little more. Before we hang up, I promise not to run off and do something crazy without calling him first. Then I dial Maxine’s cell phone.

“Oh, you’re picking up,” I say. “I thought you’d be in class and I’d just leave a message.”

“I’m not at school yet. I was just going out the door when you called.”

I blink in surprise. She’s just leaving
now?

“Okay,” I say “Who are you, and what have you done with Maxine?”

She laughs.“I know. It’s too weird, me being late.What’s up?”

I tell her about how a gift of clothes can get rid of the fairies in the school and ask her to stop by the thrift shop and pick up some doll or toddler clothes that will do the trick. “Make sure they’re nice,” I add. Then I tell her about my mom coming back and catching the blue wonder that is her daughter, making coffee in all her blueness.

“She must have totally freaked,” Maxine says.

“Not really.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, she was really pretty good about it.”

“I don’t get your family. My mom would have gone ballistic.”

“You seem to get Jared pretty well.”

“Don’t start,” she says, but I can hear the smile in her voice, and I know she likes it.

“So you were okay last night?” I ask. “You know, after we left.”

“No spooks. But I’ve been following some leads—”

“You watch way too many cop shows,” I tell her.

“—and,” she continues, ignoring me as any sensible person would, “I’m hoping for some good news soon. One thing I have found out is that we need to lie low tomorrow because of Halloween.”

“When the borders between the worlds are thin.”

“Exactly. How do you know that?”

“From Thomas’s grandmother,” I say. “How do you?”

“From  ...”

She hesitates, and my heart sinks.

“You’ve been talking to Christy,” I say, “and now we’re chapter three in his next book.”

“We might already be,” she says, “but, no. I was messaging with this woman who responded to an e-mail I sent to a fairy-tale site.”

“You told some stranger about all of this?”

“Yes. No. Not exactly. She doesn’t know our full names or anything. But she’s really up on all of this stuff, and I’ve learned a lot from her already. I printed out our chat to give to you.”

“How do you know she’s not some cyber-stalker?” I ask.

“I guess I don’t. But I find myself trusting her all the same.”

I have to think about this for a moment, but by doing so, I’m making Maxine anxious.

“Imogene?” she says. “Are you still there? You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, it’s cool. I guess we need help. It’s just ... I’m used to dealing with my problems on my own—you know, without dragging half the world into it.”

“I’m sorry. I should have asked you first, but I thought you’d say no, and I think we really need some help, and since you nixed the idea of talking to Christy, I just had to—”

“It’s okay,” I say, breaking in. “Really.” I hear a weird kind of honking sound from her end of the line. “Where are you anyway?”

“Almost at school. I’m walking up to the front door right now, so I have to go.”

“Okay. Say hi to nobody for me.”

“Can I tell everyone you’re all blue?”

I laugh. “No, only Barbie and Ken.”

“So we’re okay? About me contacting Esmeralda?”

“We’re always okay, Maxine. That’s the deal with being best friends.”

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

“Have fun at school,” I tell her.

“Don’t get too blue,” she says with a giggle, then cuts the connection.

I cradle the phone, smiling. Yeah, everything that’s happening is weird and freaky, but I’ve got Maxine and Thomas on my side. Hell, I’ve even got my mom. And maybe I did used to have to deal with the crap in my life by myself, but it doesn’t have to stay that way.

My coffee’s gone cold, but I’m too lazy to zap it in the microwave, so I just take it back to my room to grab some clean clothes to put on after I have a shower.

And who’s waiting for me but my friendly neighborhood ghost, standing on the fire escape outside my window. He’s giving me a goggle-eyed look—picking up on the blue-skinned wonder that is now me, I guess—but I’m not feeling particularly charitable toward him at the moment.

I open the window and glare at him.

“So now you’re a perv, too?” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re peeping at my window—that’s what pervs do.” I can see I’ve struck a chord, and that really ticks me off. How often has he been skulking out there, watching me?

“That’s pretty low,” I tell him. “Have you been enjoying the shows?”

“This is the first time I’ve ever been here.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true.”

He’s acting so stiff and affronted that I find myself believing him.

“You’re blue,” he says.

“How observant.”

“Why are you so mad at me?”

“Well, duh. Could it be because you sicced some heavy-duty soul-suckers on me?”

“I didn’t,” he says. “At least I didn’t on purpose.”

“And the difference is?”

“I just wanted you to believe me. The fairies said they could make it so that you could see them. I didn’t know all of this would happen.”

“So now it’s my fault for not believing you?”

“You’re impossible,” he says.

“This from a ghost.”

He sighs. “I only wanted to be friends. For you to like me and believe me, but I screwed everything up.”

“No argument from me on that front,” I tell him. “So why are you here? What do you want?”

“I’ve found out a way that we can deal with the darkness—the things that live in there are called
anamithim
.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He gives me a puzzled look, but I don’t fill him in.

“Anyway, there’s a way we can call them to us,” he says.

He goes on to explain about the ring of salt and the offering of unsalted, sugary bread.

“And then what?” I ask.

“Then we convince them to take someone else in your place.”

“Did you hear what you just said?”

“Oh, I know. It sounds terrible. But I don’t mean someone nice. I was thinking of Brent.”

“I hate to admit it,” I tell him, “but that’s almost tempting.”

“Look, the only reason I’m telling you is because I can’t make the bread or the circle or any of that. But I’ll be there with you.”

I don’t say anything, not because I agree or disagree with what he wants to do, but because it’s got me thinking. This would be my chance to come face to face with the soul-eaters, but they wouldn’t be able to touch me. Only then what?

“I wouldn’t ask you,” Adrian says, “but there’s no one else except for the fairies, and I can’t trust them.”

“Well, duh.”

“So will you?”

I shake my head. “Not to sic them on somebody else—not even somebody like Brent, though it would serve him right. But I like the idea of being able to summon the soul-eaters and them not being able to touch me.”

“Why? What would you do?”

“I don’t know. But there’s got to be some way they can be hurt.”

“I don’t think they can be. The only thing you can do is bargain with them, but you have to show them respect when you do it.”

“Everything should be respected,” I say, “unless they prove they don’t deserve it.”

“Like Brent.”

“Brent doesn’t deserve respect,” I say. “But he doesn’t deserve to have his soul swallowed up either. That’s just a bit too harsh.”

“Why is everybody so concerned about Brent’s feelings and Brent’s future?” Adrian asks. “You think he cares about anybody else’s?”

“Who else is concerned?” I ask.

“The angel who told me how to summon the darkness.”

“Well, maybe it’s not so much what Brent does or doesn’t deserve, so much as what it would mean for us. You know, our own karma for doing something like that to him.”

“So he can just push everybody around and beat them up.”

I shake my head. “He ever tries to lay a hand on me outside of school, and I’ll feed it back to him in pieces. Simple self-defense. But that’s not the point.”

“No,” Adrian says. “The point is I’ve doomed you, and there’s nothing I can do to make it up except  ...”

His voice trails off. I can tell by his face that he’s said more than he wanted to.

“Except what?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says, and fades away on me before I can press him further.

“One day,” I tell the air where he might still be, invisibly watching me, “I’ll figure out a way to smack you in the head for doing the Invisible Man on me like this.”

There’s no response, but I’m not expecting one.

I turn from the window. I don’t feel like taking a shower now, not with a possible audience to follow the proceedings. Adrian can go to one of the peep shows on Palm Street if he wants to get a cheap thrill.

In my head, I can see the long day stretching out in front of me for what feels like forever. I suppose I could do some homework, or make a plan or something. Instead, I go into the living room and switch on the TV. I flick through the channels and it’s all crap.

Sighing, I return to my bedroom. I can’t see Adrian, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still hanging around. Walking over to the closet, I open the door and call Pelly s name.

I think as I beat a hasty retreat from Imogene s window, all I ever seem able to do is annoy her more. But what was I going to say? There’s nothing I can do to make it up except sacrifice myself in your place? Considering the way Imogene feels about me, she’d probably say, “Please do. And could you get a move on while you’re at it?”