The Blue Girl (37 page)

Who
is
this woman? I think as I’m reading this. Her life sounds like it’s been pulled right from the pages of some police-procedural version of a fairy tale.

All of which is to say, I’m in desperate need of some sleep. I hope that, and I’m sure that, we will talk more in the days to come, but to quickly answer a couple of the points you brought up:

Imogene is suffering from vervain poisoning—which, let me quickly add, isn’t as terrible as it might sound.

I’d already looked into her problem before last night’s fun began. Unfortunately, some of the symptoms will be permanent. The dark blue cast to her skin should mostly go away, but a hint of blue will almost certainly remain. The euphoric sense of extreme capability will definitely fade with time. The latter is, no doubt, what had her so readily take on that bully and face up to the anamithim the way that she did.

I don’t mean to take away from Imogene’s obvious courage by saying this, but without the effect of the vervain in her system, she would surely have let common sense guide her actions.

Which shows how totally Esmeralda doesn’t know Imogene, I think.

Vervain, at least the variety found in the otherworld, is also known as a “heal all,” and a rare one at that. It’s an enormously beneficial component of any number of poultices, spells, and such, but like anything, too much of a good thing can be problematic. When only the pollen is being utilized, it is normally in very minute quantities, hence Imogene’s reaction to a cloud of it being thrown upon her and ingested.

Lastly, I’m delighted by your interest in learning more about the fairy realm. If you are of legal age, we can certainly talk more of your coming to the House to study. I’ll tell you more about us and what we do when I’m not so tired. But since you’ve mentioned that you know Christy Riddell—an old colleague of mine—I’d also recommend you express your interest to him. He and the professor are always in need of able-bodied, open-minded folk to help them with their cataloging and studies, and you could learn much from them.

Now I really do have to go to bed. Try not to have any more adventures before we have the chance to talk again.

Blessed be.

Esmeralda

This is so cool. I know last night I spent half the time being scared out of my mind, but I really do want to learn more about all of this. Of course, I want to write back to her immediately to find out what this House is that she’s talking about and who the professor is, but she’ll be sleeping anyway. Then the phone finally rings, and it’s Imogene asking if it’s okay if she comes over.

Maxine’s mother gives me the once-over when she opens the door. Her eyes only widen slightly, but I guess the surprise factor is mostly gone, seeing how her own daughter came home with a similar look last night.

“Hello, Imogene,” she says. “I take it you liked your costume too much to give it up after only one night.”

I shake my head. “I made the mistake of using dye instead of just blue paint the way Maxine did. I should have listened to her. This stuff just
won’t
wash off.”

“Somehow, I doubt you dislike the attention it brings.” I raise my blue eyebrows.

“It’s not a value judgment,” she says. “I’m working very hard at not doing that anymore. It’s just that you have your tattoos, you like to put together outfits that are impossible to ignore  ...”

I’m actually looking very normal today—except for all my blueness. Jeans and a sweater and sneakers. A toque, a scarf, and one of Jared’s pea jackets that must be small on him because it’s really not that big on me.

But, “Point taken,” I say. “I do kind of like it. I just wish I could turn it on and off, the way I can change what I’m wearing.”

“Tattoos don’t come with an on-off switch.”

“No, but if you place them strategically, you can make it look like you don’t have any, if that’s how you’re feeling.”

“You are
such
an interesting girl,” she says. “But come in, come in. I shouldn’t be leaving you to stand in the hall like this.”

Ushering me into the living room, she calls to Maxine to let her know I’m here.

“Maxine told me what you did last night,” she says. “That was very brave of you.”

I try to school my face to stay calm, but I can’t help but give Maxine a look as she’s coming down the hall. I can’t believe Maxine told her about the fairies.

But then Ms. Tattrie adds, “I hope they throw the book at that Calder boy,” and I realize what she’s talking about. “We can hope,” I say, “but I wouldn’t hold my breath.” She nods. “Unfortunately, they do seem to get away with it most of the time, don’t they?”

“Unless someone convinces them to stop.”

Ms. Tattrie regards me for a long moment.

“Yes,” she says. “That was a very dangerous thing you did, but I’m proud of you for doing it, and for helping that girl who, I understand, is anything but a friend.”

Maxine’s mother just gets weirder and weirder. I think she’s actually beginning to like me.

“I’m not planning to make a habit of it,” I tell her. “Getting into that kind of situation, I mean.”

“Sometimes we have no choice,” Ms. Tattrie says, which makes me wonder what kinds of things she’s seen in
her
life.

“Sometimes the situations are thrust upon us.”

“Yeah, it’s sure not a perfect world,” I agree.

The conversation turns to lighter subjects as Maxine and I sit and talk with her for a little while longer, then finally we get to retreat to Maxine’s room.

“So do you still want to trade in your mom?” I ask when we’re both sitting on the bed.

“I guess not,” Maxine says. “She’s actually starting to seem like a normal mom.”

“Or maybe we’re just getting mature enough to appreciate her perspective.”

“Oh, god, do you think? Are
we
the ones who are changing?”

I laugh at the look of horror on her face.

“Not likely,” I assure her.

She gets up and beckons me to look at what she’s got on the screen of her computer—another e-mail from that weird woman she met in the fairy-tale forum.

“So you told her everything?” I ask after I’ve read it through.

She nods.

“And you want to tell Christy, too?”

“But not to go in some book. Just to, you know, increase the body of knowledge on the subject. I’d tell him not to use our names.”

“You’re really serious about getting into this stuff, aren’t you?”

“Do you think it’s weird?”

I smile. “Weird is what I like, Maxine.”

“I know. But this is personal stuff—your stuff as well as mine.”

“Let me tell you something,” I say. I stand up so that we’re face to face. “Last night you saved my soul.”

“What?”

“I’m serious. I was ready to just cut those guys. I didn’t see another way to be sure we’d be safe. Maybe it was me talking, maybe it was this vervain overdose your friend wrote about. I don’t know. But I was wrong and you were right. I might have saved our asses, but if I’d done it, I’d ... I don’t know. It would have been crossing a line. I never did it back in Tyson. I never
want
to do it. But last night I was ready.”

I see Maxine’s eyes filling as I talk, and to tell you the truth, I’m feeling a little teary myself. One more word out of me, and we’d both be bawling. So I just step closer and give her a hug.

She hugs me back in a fierce grip, and then we step back from each other.

“That’s the main reason I wanted to come over,” I tell her. “To say thanks.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. When she does speak, it’s to ask the last thing I expect right now, but it’s entirely appropriate, all things considered.

“Will you tell me about Tyson?” she says.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

So we sit on her bed, and I begin.

There’s one last piece of unfinished business, and Sunday night he shows up: Adrian in all his ghostliness, standing on the fire escape on the other side of my bedroom window. He’s got this apologetic look on his face that makes me smile, because I know just what’s going on in his head. For whatever reason, he needs to talk to me, but having turned back into a ghost Saturday morning, he can’t exactly pick up a phone and give me a call to say he’s coming over. And he
knows
what happened the last time he just showed up outside my window.

“It’s okay,” I tell him as I open the window. “I know you’re not peeping.”

“You’re still blue.”

“Is that
all
anybody can focus on?”

“But it’s been what, three days now?”

“Four. Not that I’m counting. And it’s fading.”

He peers at me. “I guess it is  ...”

“So what’s up with you?” I say, because I figure it’s well past time to change the subject here.

“I ... can you come with me?” he asks.

“What, right now? It’s almost midnight.”

“I have a favor to ask of you. I know—you don’t owe me anything. It’s just  ...  I don’t want to do this alone.”

“Do what? Why are you being so weird and mysterious?”

“Can you just come?”

I look out the window past him. The night lies thick on the streets and it’s all shadowy and quiet. Just another Sunday night in Crowsea with everybody already in bed, or nodding off in front of their TV sets. Here and there in the windows of the other buildings I can see that telltale flicker of light.

My gaze comes back to Adrian’s face.

I’ve got school tomorrow—my first day as a blue girl. I still haven’t decided how I’m going to handle the questions and comments that I’m sure to get. Even people who never talk to me are going to want to know what’s up. I’ve gone over it with Maxine and Thomas about a million times today, and Pelly just left me to go back into Closetland a few minutes ago, but none of them had any particularly good suggestions. That leaves me stuck with the bad Halloween dye-job excuse.

So all things considered, I thought a good night’s sleep would be an excellent idea. A chance to rest up and prepare for what’s sure to be a long and tiring day. But Adrian looks so damn hopeful.

“Sure,” I say. “Just let me get dressed.”

He turns so that his back is to the window, but he didn’t have to. I’m just wearing a big T-shirt for a nightie and I’m not taking it off. Still, I appreciate the gesture on his part. I put on a pair of jeans under it, socks, and sneakers. My coat’s in the hall, so I dig out a thick wool sweater with a tight knit that should keep me warm.

“Okay,” I say, and approach the window.

He moves aside so that I don’t have to step right through him, then follows me down the fire escape. “Where to?” I ask when we get to the bottom. “Remember when we first met, I told you there were angels as well as shadows?”

I nod.

“Well, we’re going to go look for one of those angels.”

“How long’s that going to take?” I ask.

I have visions of his expecting me to go tramping through the city with him, all night long, and that’s not going to happen.

“Not long,” he says. “They usually show up pretty quickly when you want to see them badly enough.”

“What do you want to see one for?”

I’m trying to remember what he told me about them, but I’m coming up blank.

“I need to know something,” he says. “Did someone tell you how the blue paint would incapacitate the
anamithim,
or was it something you figured out on your own?”

“The truth?”

“No, tell me a lie.”

“Now you’re just being smart.”

“Maybe I’m picking it up from you.”

I grin. “That’s good. There are two things that’ll get you far in life, so far as I’m concerned: a spunky attitude and a vocabulary of interesting words.”

“I should have met you before I went flying with the fairies.”

“Except I would’ve been eight years old or something, and that would just be gross.”