Nobody Real

“Are you coming in?”

I drop my bag and kick off my boots. Blue swings her legs round to sit properly. Her perfect fringe is like a blonde roof for her pale, princess face.

“You didn’t have anything to drink,” she says, holding up a brown paper bag.

“I’m fine with the tap,” I say, closing the door, my body filling up with guilt.

“Where you been?” she says, looking at me like a prosecution lawyer. I don’t blink.

“Helping Leyland.”

“How is the Mad Hatter?”

“Don’t call him that. What time is it anyway?”

Blue pulls the thin glass bottle out of the bag.

“Time for a drink.”

“We should talk, right?” I say, staring into the black mirror of the kitchen window.

Blue’s at the counter, pouring something dangerous into coffee mugs.

“That’s not why I came, Thor.”

She holds out a mug, smiling. She’s pretty. Even more so because she tries to hide it. Princess Blue. Denier of powers. Hider of privilege.

I lean against the sink. “Blue, listen, I’ve been meaning to call. I—”

“Shut up, yeah? Talking doesn’t get us anywhere.”

She takes a cowboy-style gulp, blinks and smiles again.

I look down into my mug, the dark bronze of trouble. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

She finishes her drink and pours herself another one. “What, us hanging out? Just ‘friends’, remember? Wait, you thought I came here to …?” she frowns. “Don’t flatter yourself, Thor Baker.”

She knocks back her drink in one, then pours another. I put mine down.

“Hang out?” I say. “Don’t you have to actually like someone’s company to hang out?”

Blue sighs. “Nope. I hang out with idiots all the time.” A wicked smile.

“How’s work?” I say, and her shoulders slump.

“Same, same,” she says. “We do what we can, but we’re basically babysitters. We bring supplies to the park, feed them and make sure they’re comfortable.” She downs her drink and pours again. “Anyway, enough violins. I’ve been leading some workshops with newbies.”

“Really? You?”

“Don’t looked so shocked, Baker. I have to try and balance things out, right? It’s just helping them find their feet.” She sits down at the little table with her drink. “Man, some of them are so small! Do you remember it, when you first came?”

“Course,” I say. “So do the newbies know who you are?”

“I’m Blue. What else do they need to know?”

“Course. Don’t want anyone loving you for powers first, right?”

She shakes her head, “Don’t want anyone loving me full stop.”

Silence.

I first met her at Needle Park. It was just before Christmas, the year I was sent away. She was handing out soup to a crowd by the fountain.

Something about how she moved got me. A slow kind of grace. Like she didn’t need to try. Like someone who knows they can fly and chooses not to. In her case, literally. In a circle of people wishing they were more, the person wishing she was less shone like a diamond in a dumpster.

We were never officially “a thing”, but stuff happened.

“What about you?” she says. “You start your fade counselling yet?”

I sit down opposite her, familiarity seeping into the room.

“Started Wednesday.”

“And?”

“And what? Stupid pop psychology crap. Anger issues from being sent away. It’s good to talk. Blah-blah-blah.”

“Helpful though, right? I remember it helping.”

“Who says I need help?”

Silence.

I tap the table with one claw. “It’s not a big deal. I’m gonna hit ten years, like everyone does, and then just … carry on. It’s not like I’m gonna flip out or something.”

Her look says it all.

“That’s different,” I say. “The ones you work with, they’re …”

“They’re what, Baker? Different? Weak? You think it can’t happen to you?”

“Blue, I’m fine. I’ve moved on. Can we drop it now?”

She finishes her drink and gets up to pour another. “So you’ve stopped watching?”

I fight my instinct to look away. Blue smiles like an older sister who already knows you’ve been in her room and touched her stuff. Lie? Truth? Lie? Truth?

“I have actually. Are you planning on drinking the whole bottle?”