The Way

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The Way Page 17

by Mary E. Twomey


  “Still,” Blue spoke up, “I don’t understand how they thought backing their currency with debt would be a good idea. That sounds…like a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “I wonder what practices we hold to now that in one hundred years would be considered barbaric?” Stand lowered his voice. “I’m sure you can think of a few.”

  Each time their conversation was interrupted by the demands of other customers, Blue found that she was irritated. There was so much about the world that she did not know, so much that was kept from them in The Way. “I’ll be right back,” she promised.

  “Until then,” he said politely, tipping his head to her like a gentleman. This thoroughly embarrassed her.

  “Can I get you anything new to drink? We’ve got more than just water.”

  “Water’s fine.”

  Blue took two other tables’ orders before freshening Stand’s drink. When she delivered the beverage he’d requested, she finally decided she knew him well enough to risk conversing more personally.

  “Do you not like blood shakes or smoothies? We’ve got a good selection.” It was rare that a Vemreaux did not order either blood or a Green Abby at Joe’s.

  Stand fidgeted, and Blue thought to herself with a wry smile that he’d be terrible under interrogation. Looking up at her uncomfortably, Stand fumbled through his response. “I, uh, I just don’t think it’s appropriate to drink blood in the company of a Wayward. Bad taste and all.”

  Blue was surprised at his answer. “Huh. Well, you don’t have to hold back. I mean, I’m probably not gonna be able to sit with you anymore today. Crowd’s picking back up, and we’re supposed to be super busy tonight, so you don’t have to drink water. Blood doesn’t make me squeamish or anything. I mean, I’m the one who serves it.”

  “Well, it made me squeamish before I changed, and I guess old habits die hard.” He lifted the water to his lips and sipped, pretending with the worst sincerity that water was what he preferred. “I’m so glad that you –”

  But Blue did not get to hear what he was so glad about, for the table next to him chose that moment to spill their blood smoothie across the table and onto the ground. “Excuse me, sir,” she murmured as she quickly moved over to the table. Blue righted the tall glass and began moving the plates containing the diners’ food so that their meals would not be ruined.

  “Ew! What a mess!” the Femreaux yelped as she moved away from the spill.

  “You. Girl. Clean this up,” the Vemreaux that dropped the smoothie barked at Blue in his embarrassment. “On my new pants!” He groaned as if it was Blue’s fault that blood stained clothing.

  Elle trotted over to the scene, offering up several rags from the kitchen, club soda and a spray bottle of vinegar and water. Blue quickly wiped up the table while Elle moved the disgruntled diners to a clean one so they’d be more comfortable. Elle rejoined her kneeling friend to sop up the mess with a mop before the red puddle could spread out even more.

  The sight was too much for the sensitive Professor Standwicke. He soothed his conscience by pushing his chair back and helping the girls. He scooted the dirtied table to the side so they could clean underneath it. The snotty couple that made the mess sneered at Stand as though he was judging their bad behavior.

  Elle took a mental note of Stand’s benevolence, but she did not say anything.

  Blue was not too surprised that he offered help to them. She wished Elle could fall for a guy like Stand. He didn’t seem like he’d have any trouble giving himself over to niceties, but that was simply not her friend’s taste. She preferred the challenge and someone to fight with. In that respect, Baird was perfect for her.

  “Thanks, Stand,” Blue spoke from under the table.

  Elle put the mop back in the bucket when they were finished, only to find that the professor had already sprayed down the table for them. “Oh! Thank you, Stand.” She was baffled by his kindness, for this was the first time a Vemreaux had ever helped her clean up a spill. Elle’s stomach churned as she recalled the slivers of dried scratch bricks she’d had to eat off the floor in The Way if anything fell and broke.

  “It’s no trouble.” He waved his hand to say that she should expect no less from a gentleman.

  Elle noticed Stand’s eyes were fixated on Blue as she sprayed and wiped the floor with a clean rag. Clutching onto the grotesquely soiled ones, Elle bit back a smirk as she turned away from the two and went back to the kitchen to put her cleaning tool away.

  “Someone’s got a crush!” she sang happily when she reached the privacy of the kitchen. Both Baird and Grettel looked up at her in confusion.

  “Did you knock something over?” Baird asked with one eyebrow cocked. Part of their constant training was to never drop anything, trip or bump into a table or person by accident. In fact, accidents were really just not tolerated.

  Rolling her eyes, Elle dropped the pile of soiled rags into the dirty laundry bin. “No, but thanks for the vote of confidence. Honestly, it’s so helpful. Some Vemreaux in Blue’s section knocked his drink over. Can we focus, please?” She turned the hot water on with her elbow and began washing away the remains of blood that clung to her hands and wrists.

  “Who’s got a crush?” Grettel helped her out by getting them back on topic.

  “Thank you.” Elle nodded to her shortest friend. “I think Stand’s got it bad for our favorite color. You should see him talk to her. He’s acting all nervous, like he’s on a first date! When the drink spilled, he actually helped us clean it up.”

  Grettel’s eyes widened in time with her smile. “Really? That’s great! Stand is so nice.” She had met the Vemreaux only once, but heard him conversing cordially with Baird a few times.

  “Yep,” Elle agreed, drying her hands off on a slightly damp towel.

  Baird did not share in their enthusiasm. His movements went from fluid to abrupt as he tried to rein in his temper. Without commenting, he made his way over to the door and looked through the porthole out into the dining area. Sure enough, there was his sister, cleaning the table while Stand stood next to her. Baird watched for more ammunition he could use to throw at his sister when he forbade her to get involved with a Vemreaux.

  When she came back into the kitchen almost a minute later to dispose of the dirty rags and fetch a new blood shake to replace the one that spilled, Baird’s arms were crossed over his chest. “What do you think you’re doing?” he barked threateningly. “You’re a Wayward!”

  Blue looked up at him with a furrowed brow that showed her complete ignorance. “What did I do?” she asked innocently as she began washing her hands. The water was already hot and felt good in the temperature-controlled building that Blue thought was always a little too chilly.

  “You’re…you’re flirting with the Vem! Don’t think I don’t see the way he looks at you.” Baird cringed at the thought. He’d never had to call his sister out on flirting before. In fact, when the words hit the air, he began to doubt their veracity. Elle was the flirtatious one. Blue always tried to avoid people, knowing that her eyes made her too memorable.

  Taken aback, she looked him straight in the face so he could see she didn’t know what he was talking about. “Who am I supposed to be flirting with?”

  Sighing dramatically, Elle placed her hand on her hip and spoke up before Grettel became too affected by the tension. “Gimme a break, Baird. She wasn’t flirting. Honestly, have you lost your mind?” She turned her attention to Blue, gearing up to explain something delicate. “Honey, I’m pretty sure Stand has a little crush on you. I saw him watching you while you were cleaning up the blood. When he’s talking to you, sometimes he fumbles over his words like he’s all nervous. What did you ask him about, anyway? Sex?”

  At this, Baird whirled around at the blonde, flabbergasted.

  Blue was horrified as the water continued to run over her fingers, heating them to an almost painful point. When Baird turned a murderous gaze on Blue, she stammered under the pressure.

  “N-No
!” she nearly shouted. Somehow she managed to keep the blush out of her cheeks. “I was just asking him about Geometry! He’s a Vemreaux, Elle. He doesn’t like me. He knows I’m A-blood. That’s crazy!” As the words came forth, she wondered if she was wrong. Had she missed signals that were obvious to others? Was her guard really that flimsy? “I didn’t do anything like that, Baird! I swear!” Blue suspected that she really did not know all that much about the world. Despite her intelligence, she began to feel inept.

  “Sweetie,” Elle cooed soothingly, wishing now that she had said nothing at all. “It’s okay if a guy thinks you’re good looking. Frankly, it’s about time. Either those Wayward boys are backwards, or you’re just too good at hiding.”

  Nerves not used to being touched began churning uneasily in Blue’s stomach, giving off the telltale muscle twitches that started in her belly and crept up to her shoulders. Blue’s eyes darted anxiously around the kitchen and landed on a set of kitchen shears sticking out of the knife block. Quickly turning off the water, she all but dove for the scissors.

  “Blue, what the –” Elle began, but gasped when she saw the scissors opening around a lock of the thick, shoulder-length auburn hair. “Blue, don’t!” she exclaimed, her frightened expression matching Grettel’s.

  It was Baird who acted fast, coming back to himself upon witnessing his sister’s innocence. Before she could clamp the scissors down on more than a couple stray hairs, he moved quickly over to her and stilled her hand. “Don’t move,” he warned, his fingers tightening on her wrist.

  “It’s my hair!” she protested. “It’s my hair and maybe it’s the thing that’s making him look at me like he shouldn’t!” She glared up at him with the same vibrant eyes, but hers possessed the steel of resolve he’d bred into her. “Baird!” she almost pleaded. The steel slowly melted with the fear that her brother rarely saw. “It has to go! I want it gone!”

  “It can’t go,” Baird countered simply. He saw in her eyes the honest shock at the insinuation that Stand was anything more than a helpful Vemreaux. Pity for her ignorance calmed his temper. Immediately he blamed himself for not teaching her how to tell friendship from male affection.

  “Why not? If I look like a boy, then we’ll never have this problem again!”

  He knew that she was strong and would cut off her hair if she wanted to, so he resorted to reason instead of force. “If you cut your hair off, you won’t be able to hide your eyes as well. There aren’t any piles of scratch to cover your face with here.”

  Elle hissed in disgust that this tactical approach was the one he chose, refusing to address the deeper-rooted personal issues that Blue clearly needed guidance for.

  The next command came out slowly, each word sounding like a whole sentence. “Put…the…scissors…down.”

  The two stared at each other, and Grettel thought it looked like they were having a silent conversation. Tension twisted her tummy as their intimidating glares hopped around in her stomach like a soured buttermilk pancake as it anticipated the trepidation of the flip.

  The siblings’ wild and determined faces were a mirror of the other. At the same time, they both grew sad, the fury dissipating from the room. Blue’s voice was barely a whisper. “I didn’t ask Stand about…you know. I swear.”

  “I know. Sometimes Vemreaux just get confused. All they think about is sex, money and blood. You have to make things clearer to him.”

  Blue’s hand loosened enough that Baird could untangle her fingers from the handles. Without another word, Blue decided the conversation with her brother was over, and ducked out from in front of him to fill up a glass with blood and lemon before exiting the kitchen in silence.

  “Don’t,” Baird shot out a warning to Elle before she could open her mouth.

  Grettel turned her focus back to the stove, but the soup did not crave her attention as her body language suggested.

  “I hate you for making her smear that awful scratch all over her face in The Way! She’s allowed to be a woman, Baird,” Elle spat venomously.

  Turning away from them, he picked up his knife and began slicing into a chunk of vinegar and horseradish-cured beef. “No, Elle. She’s not.” Heat fled from his body. He felt cold inside and out as the knife grazed the flesh in uneven strokes. “She’s the Light who’s gonna end the tyranny. She’s the Light who’s gotta make the ultimate sacrifice,” he paraphrased the familiar prophecy. “She can’t be making new friends like Stand who’ll remember her when she’s gone to the island. No one can care about her, Elle. You know that.” His voice quieted, giving away his greatest source of fear and worry.

  With deliberate steps, Elle walked over to the counter he was standing at. “You make me sick!” Abruptly she raised her hand and slapped him hard across his cheek.

  Though it did not hurt, Baird’s head snapped up. He stared at her in shock. “What was that for?”

  “That’s for you to remember your bad behavior by.” Tears threatened her composure, but she held them back. Elle knew how he hated it when she cried. “Don’t you ever say that again. You’re just as bad as the Vemreaux, using the Light as a means to an end instead of letting her be a person along the way. I’ll see to it that someday Blue’s treated like a woman. I don’t care that she’s never had a role model of a decent man in her life. Good men exist, and if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure you can’t ruin that for her!”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he argued, though he was not sure why.

  Elle laughed humorlessly. “You know what? You’re right. How would I be able to spot a decent man when I’ve only had eyes for you?” She spun on her heel and left the kitchen.

  Grettel slowly stepped down from her stool. She sniffed back her tears that fell uncontrolled like hot lava down the side of a volcano. Instead of going to Elle for comfort, she simply stood next to Baird at the chopping counter while he tried to ignore all three women in his life.

  In the privacy of the kitchen, Grettel placed her dainty hand on the small of his back and began rubbing soothing circles into the fabric of his uniform. Her hands were rough from working so diligently in the kitchen, but the compassion transcended her cracked skin.

  Baird’s shoulders slumped. His knife faltered, dropping to the cutting board as Grettel wrapped her short arms around his waist in a private hug that was meant to bring him back to himself, no matter how hopeless that man might be.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he leaned his chin on the top of her head. “I didn’t mean it, you know. Blue’s gonna be fine. She’ll kill whatever’s out there and come back to you with no one the wiser.” He tried to pull out the most reassuring words he could muster, knowing that Grettel’s hope for Blue rested largely on his and Elle’s optimism. “Maybe after all of it, Stand’ll still be around.” As Baird spoke the words, he grimaced. Stand wasn’t right for his sister. She needed someone who could be more assertive and keep her on her toes.

  Baird shook his head, releasing Grettel from her duty of calming him down. He squeezed out a tight smile devoid of joy, and then shooed her away before her tear-filled eyes became contagious. “Thanks, midget.”

  

  Blue delivered the new drink to the table that had spilled it, and then turned to Stand. He looked up at her from his seated position with such kindness in his eyes that her chest tightened as she opened her mouth.

  “Thank you for all of your help, and for being so nice to me, Professor Standwicke, sir.”

  The formal address caught him off guard. “Blue, you know you don’t have to call me that. I’m not your professor. I’m your friend.”

  Blue’s eyes focused on the toes of her shoes. Her ten members squirmed around inside of them as she forced herself to be someone she despised. Regret bubbled in her heart at the thought of so easily destroying the first Vemreaux friendship she’d managed to make in the real world. However, Baird was the law, and he was right. Stand paid her too much attention.

  Once
again, it was time for her amazing disappearing act.

  Blue swallowed the lump in her throat, refusing to look up. The subservient posture of her head tilted downward hid any sign that she lamented her next words. She did not want to push him away. She rather enjoyed Stand’s company. But if Elle was right and he was thinking that she was a woman with choices, he needed to be cut out before his imagination ran away with him.

  “I’ll do the rest of my studying alone from now on. It’s not appropriate for you to be seen helping an A-blood. I’m grateful for everything you’ve taught me, but I can’t…” The lump threatened to choke her, and for one second, she wanted to take it all back. He was so kind.

  Blue took a deep breath and recalled all that her family had already sacrificed to get her here, and everything they would still have to endure to get her over to the island.

  In the end, it was not as difficult to sever the tie as she’d been anticipating. It was simply choosing Baird over a Vemreaux.

  She inhaled another breath and continued on with less hesitation. “I just can’t. I’m not a good person for you to be seen with. I’m nineteen, Stand.” She turned on her heel and left his company before he had a chance to collect his shock.

  Sadness hit Elle almost as deep as it did Blue as she watched the scene play out. She followed after Blue and saw not an emotionally shaken girl, but a robot, operating on autopilot as she sat down to roll silverware. Glaring at Baird, she filled up a glass of water to bring to Stand. He looked stunned and, indeed, very hurt.

  “She’s young,” Elle explained quietly so that the other tables wouldn’t hear. “Trust me. It’s really got nothing to do with you, Stand. You’re a great Vemreaux. One of the nicest that come in here. She’s still new to the world.”

 

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