The Blue Girl

by Charles de Lint

I know. It seems odd that such Unseelie creatures would obey what are really nothing more than social mores—albeit from a different social structure than our own—but Kate—my friend—assures me this is the case.

  And now I really *must* run. Stay inside and keep the lights on!

  E.

  None of which was a real help, except it did start me wondering again about just who this Esmeralda was. Exactly what sort of problems did Halloween bring anyway? It had to have something to do with that gate she mentioned earlier, but that didn’t help me understand.

  And who was Kate? Maybe I should ask Esmeralda for her contact info so I could try talking to her directly.

  Except I had school all day, after which I had to lay out the clothes for the fairies, and then it was showtime. There wasn’t going to be the opportunity to get more advice.

  There was always Christy, but I couldn’t go to him without asking Imogene first, and I already knew there was no way she was going to agree to that.

  So here I am at Redding, trying to get through the day, which is really hard for me, because for the first time I can remember, I don’t want to be at school. I don’t mean between classes or at lunchtime, when I’m never very comfortable, but during the classes, too. I’m in this total daze and think I should have stayed home the way Imogene has. Except I’m the one who has to lay out the clothes for the fairies, and it’d be hard to show up at the end of the day when I’ve missed all my classes. How would I explain that if one of my teachers spotted me?

  I can tell how out of it I am when Valerie says something to me at lunch that has all her friends laughing and I don’t even know what it is she said. I wasn’t paying attention, just as I’ve been too dazed to do my usual scan-and-avoid-the-bullies routine before coming into the cafeteria.

  “What?” I say, forgetting Imogene s first rule of bully avoidance: “Don’t engage them in conversation, because then they know you’re paying attention to them and that’s all they really want. Someone to pay attention to them.”

  “Jesus, Chancy,” Valerie says. “You are such a total lezzie loser.”

  One of her friends gives me a shove. I lose my grip on my books and my lunch. They all start to laugh again when the books fall to the floor. My binder pops open, and my notes go all over the place. My lunch bag tears, and the apple I’d put in it this morning goes rolling away under a table.

  I want to say something like, You’re the loser. And what’s wrong with lesbians, anyway?

  Or better yet, just smash a book in her face.

  But all I do is flush and bend down to try to retrieve my notes.

  Someone slides their foot against mine and pushes so that I lose my balance. I fall down on top of my books. My knee hits my lunch bag, and I feel my sandwich squash under it. Everyone laughs yet one more time—not just Valerie and her friends, but the kids at the nearby lunch tables, too.

  That kind of thing always disappoints me.

  You’d think they’d know better, because what’s happening to me could be happening to one of them instead. But they don’t think of that—or maybe they’re just glad that it’s happening to someone else and not them. I never laugh— that’s something Imogene didn’t have to teach me. Laughing at the victim’s misfortune is like showing your approval for what the bully’s done.

  When Imogene s around people getting bullied, she gets this dark look in her eyes and scowls. She doesn’t do anything, but anybody who sees her usually stops laughing and looks away. Embarrassed. I remember what Imogene told me about her old school and realize that maybe they’re a little scared, too. Maybe they see something in her that I haven’t: the potential for retribution. I don’t know. What I do know is that even Valerie never pushes Imogene too far and she always keeps her distance, even when she’s being mean.

  Obviously, I’m not so lucky.

  I hunch my shoulders, waiting for the next attack, but Valerie’s finally moved on. I collect my books, proud that at least I didn’t cry. When I finally get my stuff together, I stand up and give a quick look around.Valerie’s on the other side of the cafeteria, with Brent and the rest of their crowd.

  I make my escape and hurry down a hall, not stopping till I’ve found one of the side stairwells that isn’t used as much as the main ones. I sit on the stairs there and try to reorganize my notes. I eat my squashed sandwich. I wish I had my apple.

  I realize that I really miss Imogene. Not just her physical presence—let’s face it, her protective presence—here at school, but the Imogene she was before all this got so serious. The lighthearted and funny Imogene, who always seemed to say the last thing that you’d expect.

  I wonder if I’m ever going to get her back.

  * * *

  I get through the rest of the day without incident— mostly because I’ve got my bully radar turned up to high and avoid the possibility of any further contact with them. I go to the library after my last class and pretend to study until Ms. Giles comes over to tell me that they’re closing.

  I have the halls pretty much to myself. There’s not much in the way of after-school activity inside the building on a Friday unless there’s a dance, but then I realize that today’s one of the last big football games of the year. It’s the city finals, and we’re playing against Mawson High. That means there’s going to be stragglers in the gym for hours afterward, using the locker rooms and showers, goofing and fooling around. They’ll be full of relentless good cheer if we win, totally bummed if Mawson does.

  I make my way to my locker, wondering how I could have forgotten that there was a game. I take out the bag of clothes I bought at the thrift store, then sit down by my locker and turn on my cell phone. Imogene answers on the first ring and I explain about the game.

  “So the gym’s out.”

  “Maybe we should call it off,” I say, trying not to sound hopeful.

  She laughs. “I don’t think so. I’ll still meet you outside the drama rooms around seven thirty. We’ll figure it out then.”

  I want to ask her, Doesn’t anything faze you? Not bullies, not monsters in the shadows, nothing?

  But all I say is, “Okay.”

  I leave my jacket and books and everything in my locker, only keeping my cell phone, which I stick in the pocket of my cargo pants, and a flashlight, which I stick in a pocket on the other leg to balance the weight. Closing my locker, I pick up the bag of clothes and head for the basement.

  I keep expecting to see Adrian or one of the fairies—I mean, if I can see the ones in Imogene s room, then I should be able to see them all, right? But there’s only me and the custodian in the labyrinth that’s the school’s basement. Though maybe he’s watching the game. If he’s not, I’m hoping he’s in that room where he drinks and sleeps off his drunks.

  I walk in the opposite direction from where Imogene told me he hangs out and make my way to the furnace room. It’s huge and really spooky, with all these weird boilers and heaters and pipes and everything. It’s not actually pumping hot water through the pipes at the moment, but the hulking machines mutter and gurgle to themselves like drowsing dinosaurs.

  It makes sense to lay the clothes out there. It’s a place no one’s going to come, probably not even the custodian.

  I feel a little stupid taking off my shirt and putting it back on inside out, just like I do about the oatmeal and rowan twigs I’ve got in my back pockets, but I promised Imogene, so I do it. Then I lay the clothes out in little groupings in the middle of the room: shirt, pants, socks, hats, jackets. Ten sets in all, mismatched, some missing a hat, or a jacket, but they’re mostly pretty complete. I didn’t bother with shoes because I couldn’t begin to guess the fairies’ sizes.The clothes weren’t so hard because Imogene told me the fairies are only a foot or so tall.

  When I’m done, I stand back and clear my throat.

  “Thank you, spirits,” I say aloud, hoping my voice won’t draw the custodian, “for your hard and selfless work to keep this building clean and safe the way you have over the y
ears. We know you can never be fully repaid for all you’ve done, but we hope these small tokens of our gratitude will bring you even a fraction of the pleasure that your presence in this building has brought to us.”

  I half expect them to pop out of thin air, but nothing happens. Maybe they’ve already peeked and hate what I brought. Or maybe they’re just too shy with me standing here.

  I smile to myself. Maybe they’re off watching the game.

  I look at my watch. I still have loads of time before I’m supposed to meet Imogene, so I find myself a hiding place behind some big metal vat that I suppose is part of the heating system and settle down to see if I can catch a glimpse of the fairies before they have to go away.

  The first thing I do when I wake up Friday morning is check the color of my skin. Still blue, but I was expecting that. The question is, am I any bluer than when I went to bed?

  I can’t tell. Maybe. Or maybe it just looks different from last night because of the sunlight coming in through the window.

  I suppose I could ask Mom or Jared, but I don’t want to remind them. It already turned into a point of contention last night, and I know if I’m not a noticeably lighter blue by tomorrow, Mom’s going to insist we see the doctor. She’s too worried to think it through properly, but all I can see is myself stuck in some laboratory for the rest of my life while they run tests on the stupid blue girl.

  I understand Moms anxiety, just like I understand what Thomas is feeling. He called last night and wanted to come see me, but I had to put my blue foot down and say no, and then of course he thought I was mad at him. He told me not to be embarrassed, that he liked me for me, not for what color my skin is, but that wasn’t the point. The point is I don’t want him any more involved in this than he is already. Whatever Maxine, Pelly, and I manage to do tonight, the less the people I care about are in danger, the better I’ll be able to concentrate.

  It’s bad enough that Maxine’s so insistent on seeing it through to the end, right by my side.

  But I couldn’t tell Thomas any of that. In the end I told him I’d see him at the Crib where Jared’s band is playing. It’s not a complete lie. If I survive the early part of the evening, dealing with the anamithim, I am definitely going to want to party.

  That seemed to appease him, and when he calls me this morning we have a normal conversation—well, normal except for the big hole of trust that I’m digging in our relationship by not telling him what I have planned for tonight. But he doesn’t come straight out and ask me, so I don’t have to lie in response. I just don’t volunteer the information.

  * * *

  “Do you believe in God?” I ask Pelly later in the day.

  We’re hanging in the living room again, working up more stories for him, while the bread we made is baking. It’s made the apartment smell really good.

  “I don’t have a soul,” he says, “so it’s not really relevant to me, is it?”

  I wonder if that’s the difference between humans and fairies and whatever Pelly is. We grow up being told we have a soul, so we believe it. Or at least we consider the idea as possible, perhaps even plausible, instead of outright dismissing it. Souls and God and heaven and hell. And even if we do end up abandoning the concept of God, we often come back to it in our old age. Or at least Mom says so. It happened to her parents. They were complete atheists for years, then suddenly became fervent churchgoers around the same time that they got a senior citizen’s discount.

  “But I believe in fate,” Pelly adds.

  “You mean like where the future’s laid out before us, everything planned?”

  He shakes his head. “That we make our own fate.”

  “I think that’s called free will.”

  “I suppose.”

  We fall quiet again. I wish it was warm enough that we could go up on the roof, but Indian summer’s been and gone, and it’s so cold outside that you can see your breath. And while the roof is fine—I’ve hung out up there lots— when it’s the only place you can go, it feels just as close as the apartment does.

  I turn to look at Pelly, and when his gaze meets mine, I’m reminded of something he said last night.

  “I’m sorry I abandoned you,” I say. “I don’t even know how or why it happened. It ... you just didn’t seem real anymore. Like you couldn’t be.”

  “You grew up.”

  “No,” I say. I’ve been thinking about this. “I grew down. I let my mind get smaller instead of open and big the way it was when we were always together.”

  “I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” he says.

  I give a slow nod. He’s right about that much. I can’t remember there ever being a time when I just decided I wasn’t going to believe in him anymore. It just happened so gradually that I never saw it coming. Didn’t know I’d changed until I was already standing on the other side of belief.

  “It’s going to happen again,” I say.

  “What is?”

  “I’m going to abandon you again. I’m going to abandon everyone. I don’t want to, but I messed up, Pelly.”

  He gets this look that tells me he understands, but “What do you mean?” is all he says.

  “This plan isn’t going to work. The anamithim are big and strong and old and smart. The most I can hope for is that they’ll take me, but leave everyone else alone.”

  “You don’t know that,” he says. I feel he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. “It seems like a good plan to me.”

  “Promise me you’ll get Maxine away and safe.”

  “I can’t promise that. She’s as stubborn as you are.”

  “Promise you’ll try.”

  He looks away and doesn’t answer.

  “Pelly, please.”

  “I’ll try. But if they get wind of her ...”

  “I know.”

  I think about Maxine, my wonderful best friend, who’s always been so honest and open with me.

  “Does she shine?” I ask Pelly. “I mean, she shines to me, but does she shine to fairies?”

  “Not like you do,” he says. “You’re like a beacon—it’s why you can draw a ghost like Adrian to yourself so easily and why you could draw me to you when you were a child. Maxine has a luminescence, but it’s not the shine of the Otherworld—the knowing and seeing that you have.”

  “Even though she’s met you and believes you exist?” He nods. “I don’t know the whys and wherefores of what attracts the anamithim. But not every soul that sees into the Otherworld becomes their prey.”

  “And my mom and Jared?”

  “No shine,” he says. “They just give off the light that everybody does.”

  That’s good, I think.

  “But if you want my advice,” he adds, “you shouldn’t go into tonight’s endeavor already thinking that you’ve lost.”

  “I’ll work on that,” I tell him.

  * * *

  It’s five o’clock when I leave the house. Normally I hate how it gets dark so early at this time of year—especially since we put the clocks back an hour last weekend—but I’m grateful for it today. It means I can go out, because my skin’s not so noticeably weird in the dark, and it being Halloween, anyone who does notice is just going to think I’m on my way to a costume party.

  It doesn’t take two hours to get to school, but I want to walk around a bit. I’ve been cooped up for two days now and I am so not an indoors kind of person. I loved tramping around in the woods when I was a kid, and since we moved to Tyson, and later here, I get as much pleasure from the concrete forest. There’s sure more wildlife—if you count all the weird people.

  Pelly s gone back into wherever and is going to hook up with us at the school. He was worried about me being on my own, but I couldn’t very well have him tagging along— the way he looks is really pushing the idea of a Halloween costume. Anybody who got too close a look would totally wig out.

  And when he brought up the argument about the anamithim being out there in the dark, I just held up my arm
.

  “Blue skin,” I told him. “Protected and all that, remember?”

  We packed up a bunch of stuff in a knapsack: the bread we’d made this afternoon, boxes of salt, a bag of oatmeal, and a whole bunch of other stuff from my research yesterday: blue clothes, coins and a jar of honey as additional bribery in case the bread doesn’t cut it, bottles of salted water to drink in case they try to enspell us, stones to throw, even a Bible and a crucifix. The last two I found on my curb-crawling rounds. I’m not a believer, but it didn’t seem right to leave them on the curb, waiting for the garbage truck.

  We didn’t know what would work best, so I was going to try it all. First thing I’d do when I got to the school would be to turn my jacket inside out.

  I’d also put in a lighter and some candles, a flashlight, and a bunch of firecrackers, then got my old switchblade out of the bottom of my sock drawer. That went in the pocket of my blue jeans.

  I hefted the knapsack, and it weighed a ton.

  “I’ll take it to the school for you,” Pelly said, lifting it like it had nothing much in it. “Be careful,” he added before going into the closet.

  “It’s my new middle name,” I assured him.

  And I am careful as I walk through the streets, breathing in the crisp air. It’s so good to finally be outside again. The streetlights are on now, and the shadows have stopped lengthening; now they’re just pools of darkness in the mouths of alleyways and outside the reach of the streetlights. With my blue skin and all, I’m not so nervous about the shadows, but it turns out they’re the least of my worries.

  I wander around, but find myself at the school earlier than I expected. The lights are turned off on the football field, and not many people seem to be around, although there are a few cars in both the students’ and teachers’ parking lots, and small clusters of kids hanging at the front of the school. Talking. Waiting for rides, I guess.

  Maybe we can use the gym after all. I’ve also been thinking of the auditorium, which might even be better because it’s already got all kinds of lights in there, so we won’t have to haul as many stage lights to it.