“SCORE! Three points to the Crows! A fantastic shoot by the one-and-only, Oliver Lyman. What can’t this kid do?” The announcer calls out above the cheers of the crowd. Azalea grins, watching her brother make the shot.
“Go Oliver!” She yells, standing up and cheering. “Good job!” He looks over to the stands, smiling and waving at his sister.
“Why is she even here? I thought a freak like her wouldn’t come to a game. God, I don’t even see why someone like Oliver would even want to hang out with her.” A girl says to her friend, glaring at her. Azalea smiles and waves at her, ignoring the glare coming from the girl.
“I mean, I know she’s his sister and all,” another girl chimes in, “but I don’t think he’d willingly hang out with her, not even out of pity.”
“It must be their parents. They must make him hang out with her, because she’s got no friends and all,” the third girl adds, looking at Azalea with mock pity. “It must be so tragic.”
Azalea smiles inwardly to herself, turning to the girls talking about her.
“Yeah, it must be. I mean, it must be so tragic that Oliver doesn’t even spare a second glance to you freaks,” she looks at them, shaking her head slowly. “Meanwhile…”
“SCORE! Oliver Lyman, what a star.” The announcer roars, and the crowd does, too.
“HEY OLLIE!” Azalea yells. The girls look at her, as if she just committed a heinous crime. “Good job!” He finds her in the stands again and smiles, putting his thumbs up, happy that he made his baby sister proud.
“How dare you call him like that!” The first girl says.
“You tell her Molly!” The second one says, glaring at Azalea. “She has no right to call him that!”
“I do so,” Azalea says with a smile. “Because I’m his best friend. Not you.” With that she gets her bag and moves to a different section, one with less teenagers and more parents, cheering their sons on.
She sighs again, fixing the collar of her black shirt, the uniform for their dojo practices. She sees Oliver scanning the crowds, and she waves and he smiles at her again. He points to the clock and make a karate chop-like motion and she giggles. She does glance at the clock, though, and sees that they’re ahead of the other team by about ten points, with only thirty seconds left to the game. They receive the ball again, and Oliver runs up the court, making a shot.
“SCORE! And I believe—” The buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game. “Yes! The Crows win the finals, Forty-one to twenty-eight! They will be going the State Finals! Congratulations! This is Peter Brownan, signing off.” Everyone streams out of the bleachers, heading to the team, and Azalea picks up her bag, and something hits her head. She looks and it’s a wad of gum, right in the middle of her hair. She tries to pull it out, but it won’t go. She sighs, and makes her way out of the gymnasium.
“Proud?” A familiar voice asks behind her, and she turns, lighting up. “Well?” Her brother’s standing there, sweaty and panting slightly, but grinning nonetheless.
“Of course. Hey, could you do me a favor?” Azalea says, reaching in her pencil case, pulling out her pair of scissors. Her brother looks at her, uncertain. “Cut my hair for me.”
“What happened?” He says, taking the scissors from her hand.
“Gum got in my hair,” Azalea says, turning around for him to see. “Just hack it all off.”
“What? Who did it? Those freaks. How can they think they can do something like that?” Oliver says, cutting her hair, slowly.
“It’s fine. Really. I was thinking about cutting it, anyway.” She winces at her lie, unconvincing even to her.
“Oh really? How short?” Oliver says, cutting her hair to shoulder-length, effectively removing the gum.
“Just kill it. Choppy. Might as well go pixie-cut.” She says, and he starts hacking, getting a hang of it. He finishes, dusting the scissors off into the trash bin with the rest of her hair. He hands the scissors to her, and she smiles at him.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. How are you going to explain this to Mom and Dad? They don’t know anything about this…” He lets his statement hang, a testament to their deception.
“Well, they won’t ever know, now will they? Please, Ollie, don’t tell them.” She raises her hoodie. “See? Now they won’t know.” She smiles. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Master Ten-way wouldn’t like that, would he?” Ollie smiles at her. “Wait here, I’ll grab the keys for you.” He runs into the locker room, coming back a minute later. “Here! Wait for me in the car. I’ll change into my practice clothes. There’s really no point in showering.”
“You’ll stink up the car!” Azalea shoots back before grinning. “Just kidding. Come on!” She walks out to the parking lot, unlocking their car, a beat-up old ruster, brown with ripped leather interior.
She sighs, ruffling her now short hair. I wonder when I should run away. Soon, definitely. This hair thing is the last straw. Poor Ollie. Stuck with me. Those girls were right. He probably pities me. I can’t believe in the sixteen years I’ve been alive, I’ve only made one friend. Do I have enough money? I mean, I’m sure I do. I’ve been working at the pharmacy for a long time, and I haven’t spent any of it… She turns on the car light, doing the math in her notebook. Yeah. Definitely enough. Then maybe Ollie could tell them about my job, and how I have no friends. They’ll probably just laugh and move on, though. They’ll definitely be better off without me. Yeah. They will be.

Oliver knocks on the car window, and she unlocks it for him, and he slides in the drivers seat.
“Are we still working on that one move, the low jump block?” Oliver asks, turning the car on and driving out of the parking lot. “That was what, two weeks ago?”
“I’m not working on that anymore. After I learned the Middle Jump block, Master Ten-way showed me the high jump block, I was working on that with Jared last week.”
“Really? Isn’t that advanced?” Oliver asks her, turning onto the freeway by the high school.
“Not really. It’s actually kind of easy. Jared was having a hard time getting past me, actually.”
“I haven’t been in forever.” Oliver comments, as they drive along the road. “I must suck by now.”
“Hey, at least you’ll rock at push-ups. I still stink at those.” Azalea says. “I’m really only good at the martial arts aspect.”
“Isn’t that the only aspect that matters at the dojo?” Oliver says wryly. “You’re better than me, and you’re what, two years younger than me?”
“One year, five months, three weeks, and two days older than me. Geez, get it right!” She says in mock exasperation. “And besides, we started at the same time. I was what, six?”
“Yeah. But so what? You’re still better than me.” He says, turning onto an exit.
“At least you know I’ll be able to protect myself.” She says jokingly, though she knows she’ll have to fend for herself soon.
“Yeah, that’s true. And you’re so frail-looking, no one will suspect anything.” He turns onto another street, and turns into the dojo parking lot. “Come on, Martial Arts Princess. Come beat me into submission.” They get out of the car, Oliver locking it behind them, and walk into the dojo.
“Hello, Azalea, Oliver.” Master Ten-way says, coming up to them. He’s an Asian man in his mid-forties, wearing the uniform black outfit. They smile at him, putting their bags down on a bench and taking off their sweatshirts. “Azalea, can I talk to you?” She walks back to him, and he lowers his voice slightly. “I was wondering if you would like to become a member of the dojo. I know you’re a little young, but you have the spark.”
“Me? A member of the dojo? For real?” Azalea says. A member of the dojo was a very prestigious title, and only the top students every couple of years was made into a member, someone who was considered at the level of Master Ten-way himself.
“Of course. Not only have you been showing amazing skills all the years you’ve been training, but you high jump block is amazing.”
“Then yes! It’s such an honor, thank you!” She says, genuinely pleased with herself.
“Good. Now go get warmed up. I have to test you, to prove you’re ready to become a member. Don’t worry. I have faith in you.” He ruffles her hair and turns away, but turns back.
“When did you shorten your hair?” He asks her.
“Just today. Do you like it?” Azalea says, smiling at him. He smiles back, nodding.
“Yes. It’s, um, very ‘punk.’” She laughs and he turns away, stretching for their match. She warms up and they’re ready to begin. The rest of the class sits down and she winks at Oliver, who smiles back. They bow to each other, and they begin.
Azalea quickly moves to the offensive, windmill kicking him, though he blocks and throws her off balance. Azalea jumps back up, taking a defensive position, as he tries to land a series of kicks which she blocks, and then she retaliates with quick, fast punches. They break away, and she jumps, kicking him in the arm, and then a swift follow-up of the “Fury Punches.” He starts hitting her again, and she ducks, instead moving her leg out, tripping him. He doesn’t react in time, though, and she pins him to the mat.
“Very good, Azalea. Congratulations, you just beat your old master.” She helps him get up, and she smiles. Then “Courtesy Bow” to each other, and the students swarm in and cheer for Azalea.
“Good job, sis!” Oliver says, patting her on the back. “That was really cool.”
“Thanks!” She says back to him, and she smiles. Then the crowd breaks up and they begin to practice again, Azalea practicing with Ten-way.
An hour later, the practice breaks up, and Oliver and Azalea are riding back to their house.
“You did a good job, Azalea,” Oliver says seriously. “You know I never really had the knack for Martial Arts. I’m thinking about quitting, actually.”
“What? You can’t! You can’t give up. You’re getting better. I’m sure it’ll click for you soon,” Azalea says to him, shocked that he would even consider giving up.
“I just don’t know. I don’t want to play basketball, either. I wish I could just play music of my own everyday, never needing to know what the other teams weaknesses are, when to shoot, when to block, every single rule there is to basketball. I just want to play music.” Oliver takes the exit back to their house and he sighs. “I don’t even really like playing basketball anymore. I mean, once you’re a star, why not stop? Let someone else sit on the throne. I was thinking about taking up guitar. Actually, I’ve been thinking about taking up guitar for awhile now. What do you think?”
“I think you’d be really good at guitar. Really. Yeah…that’s a good idea! I can see you playing guitar, having a band, maybe even singing lead vocals.” Azalea says, excited. “You would be great at it, too!”
“You think?” Oliver says, pulling into their driveway. “I didn’t think I could sing that well.”
“You can. Remember the choir teacher in the tenth grade? He heard you singing in the locker room, and he practically begged you.” Azalea slams the door of the car, and Oliver gets out, too.
“That old pervert guy? I remember that!” He laughs. “He was following me around for weeks after he heard me!”
“Yeah, you see? Don’t you think you would be great?” Azalea asks him as they walk out of their garage and into their kitchen. She opens the refrigerator, and looks inside, hoping for an apple in the crisper, but finding only carrots.
“I suppose so. But I don’t think Dad would like me quitting the basketball team,” Oliver says, reaching in a cupboard for a cup, filling it with water. “He would be so disappointed I wouldn’t be making the college basketball team.” He ruffles his wavy hair, similar in color to hers, and she smiles.
“I don’t know. I’m not really good at these types of things. I’ve never been good at judging character, especially within my own family.” She rummages around and finds a yogurt, and opens it, grabbing a spoon from the drain board. “I want a shower, anyway. Later.” She walks out of the kitchen, walking upstairs to go into her room.
She looks at herself in her mirror, an old, tarnished silver antique hanging above her dresser. She fingers her auburn brown hair, now cut short in choppy waves. Then she notices her fingers, unkempt fingernails and long fingers, graceful for playing the piano but useless otherwise. She looks at her skin, pale, almost too pale, despite having been out for hours under the sun ove rthe summer. Then she looks at her eyes.
Azalea sighs, looking at her eyes. Ocean blue, the only remarkable thing is the black vertical line running through both irises. Slightly almond-shaped, her lashes were thick and black, under thin, curving eyebrows. She notices her nose next, a slightly overlong nose with a thin top and slightly flat bottom, with a small, almost unnoticeable piercing, as tiny as a speck of glitter but there nonetheless. Then her mouth, with the big bottom lip and the smaller top lip, both a perfect, dark raspberry color, obtrusive and loud, the first feature people see on her pale, heart-shaped face.
She closes her eyes and falls on her bed, leaving the yogurt on the dresser. Maybe I’ll stay. It’s only two more years. What’s going to happen? This has to be the worst of it. Yeah. What else could happen? She resigns herself to staying, and then she gets up and goes to take a shower.

“Azalea! Time for school!” Her mother calls, rapping on her door. She rolls out of bed, pulling on the first clothes she sees, a black long-sleeve v-neck shirt and gray jeans, with lime green high tops and a matching hoodie. She remembers her hair, and rummages around in a drawer and finds a black beanie hat, which she shoves on her head and walks out of the room.
“Good, you’re up, Azalea. Here, have something to eat. Are you going to drive with Oliver?” Her mother asks her, swarming around her like a gnat, fussing with her hair and fixing her hoodie, which was crooked on her shoulders.
“Mom, I take the car with Oliver everyday. And fine, I’ll eat something.” She reaches in the fruit bowl, pulling out a banana. “God, Mom, don’t you have something else to do?”
“Taking care of my children is my first priority,” she answers primly. “And besides, I don’t have to be at work until eight.”
“God, then go put on some make-up or something. Where’s Oliver?” Azalea says, trying to get her mother to go away.
“Well, I was wondering if I could do your make-up!” She says brightly. “I mean, your outfit is a little dark today, but if I brighten it up I’m sure you’ll crush Leo will come up and talk to you!”
“Mom, I had a crush on Leo in the fourth grade. I got over him six years ago.”
“Oh. But even still…I’m sure you would love it some boy talked to you!” Her mother says, recovering from her mistake immediately.
“God, don’t you get it? I will never wear make-up. It’s superficial,” Azalea says. “What time is it?”
“Just about six. Make-up takes some serious time, but it’s always worth it!” Her mother chirps. “I should wake up your father, though…” She rushes upstairs. “Brandon, honey! It’s almost six!”
Azalea sighs even harder and gets out a cup, filling it with orange juice. “Stupid mother. Why does she do this to me?”
Her mother comes back downstairs, bringing a large quilted bag with her, the one she keeps her special “Azalea Only” make-up in. Azalea smiles, remembering that most of the containers inside were still unopened and untouched. “Here! Sit down, I’ll do your make-up. And take off the silly hat, it’s not even cold out!”
“Mom! I don’t want to do this! It’s so lame!” Azalea yells at her, reaching out of her grasp. “And it’s November! It should be cold out!”
Her mother sits down at the table. “Please, Azalea? It would make me feel so happy. Consider it a birthday gift. My birthday’s soon, anyway. Just for today?”
Azalea considers for a moment. She thinks to herself. “Would I have you something else, too?”
“No, this would be great! As long as I get a picture…” Her mother says.
“Fine.” She sits down and her mother brightens immediately.
“Thank you, Azalea! You have no idea how much this means to me…Now sit still!” Her mother grabs her face and begins.
Twenty-five minutes later she wipes her hands on a tissue and hands Azalea a mirror. “All done!” She exclaims. “I think you look beautiful.” Azalea looks and sees a completely different person. Her eyes have been highlighted by black mascara and emerald eyeliner, with a light green dusting on her eyelids. Her cheeks are now tanner with the use of some powder, which makes her raspberry lips, slightly lighter due to the help of some lipgloss, even less dark and more natural looking.
“Why did I do this?” Azalea says, shaking her head slowly. I look likte one of the freaks at school! She thinks to herself. Why did I agree to this? Her mother sighs deeply, and leans against the counter.
“Good morning, Lila!” A booming voice says, and her father walks into the room, wearing a white shirt and tie. “My, my Azalea, aren’t you looking pretty?” She rolls her eyes and her mother sighs again.
Why are they so perfect? Prom King and Queen, blond hair, blue eyes, tall, dark, and handsome…they’re so clichéd! I can’t believe I got stuck with them…stupid parents. I bet if I left they wouldn’t even remember they had a daughter! Azalea thinks viciously to herself as her mother smiles and he kisses her cheek.
“Good morning, family—Azalea! What did you let Mom do?” Oliver says, walking into the kitchen. “It looks so weird…not that it looks bad or anything. You actually look pretty good, but…” He trails off, blushing slightly, and he looks almost embarrassed to be caught in this situation.
“Gee, thanks Ollie. I love how supportive you are of me,” she says sarcastically. “Hurry up and take the picture, I want this stuff off my face.”
“That’s right!” She exclaims, going into the main entryway, opening the odds-and-ends closet door. She pulls out the digital camera, turning it on as she goes back into the kitchen. “Smile!” Azalea half-heartedly smiles, and she snaps the picture.
“I like it!” Her father booms, smiling at the screen. “You’re so pretty, Azalea, it looks fantastic.”
“You think?” Azalea says, looking at the camera screen. She sees herself smiling, rather forcefully, looking just short of ridiculous with the make-up on.
“Why are you wearing the hat in the house, Azalea?” Her father asks, tall enough to grab it off her head despite her attempt to shield. Her mother gasps, and Azalea glances at Oliver for a split second. He shrugs and mouths, “The truth.”
“Azalea! Your hair! What on Earth were you thinking? Your hair was so beautiful, and now it’s so…short.” Her mother cries, her eyes filling up with tears. “It was such a pretty color.”
“Well, I was walking down the bleachers after Oliver’s game, you know, the one last night you guys couldn’t come to because you had to go to Dad’s teacher concert for his school district—” Azalea begins, but her father cuts her off.
“Your point, Azalea?” He says, crossing his arms. Not a good sign, Azalea thinks. She sighs, and runs a hand through her hair and continues.
“Yeah, and anyway, I tripped down the bleachers, just a couple bleachers, but anyway, someone stuck fresh gum right under one of the bleacher seats and it got stuck. So I cut my hair off.” Azalea finishes, deciding to leave Oliver out of it.
“Haven’t you heard of the peanut butter trick?” Her mother sighs, sinking into a chair. “How could you not know of the peanut butter trick?”
“Peanut butter? What are you talking about?” Azalea asks. Her mother opens her mouth, but she cuts her off. “Never mind. Anyway, even if I knew of this “peanut butter” trick,” she puts air quotes around peanut butter, “I didn’t have any peanut butter anyway, and besides, I couldn’t go home because we had to go to Martial Arts class anyway—”
“And, she was made a member of the dojo! She took down Master Ten-way. It was so cool. And she got straight A’s again this term, even in Mr. Lucas’ class…college-level math, Mom,” Oliver says, trying to distract them.
“Don’t distract us Oliver, this is more important. I can’t believe you did something like this, Azalea! I’m taking you out of school so we can fix this. Maybe we could get you some extensions…and as soon as that’s over with, you’re going to stay in your room and think about what you’ve done. This is serious,” Her mother said.
“Lila. This is her junior year. Think about it. All the colleges are watching…” Her father says.
“Brandon! This is serious! I can’t believe—” Azalea tunes them out, her anger at them burning brightly. What? I make member of the dojo, and she just brushes it aside? That’s not fair! If this was Oliver, I’m sure they would’ve made a huge deal out of it. And even making a college class, even if it is senior year, that would’ve been cause for a party! That’s it. I thought last night I might tough it out for two more years, but I have to leave, I have to do something. I hate it here!
“—so it’s settled, then? She’ll go to the beauty salon herself and get it fixed, and then she’ll go to school. The salon and the school aren’t that far from each other, so she can walk. It’s a beautiful day out, anyway,” Her mother says, and gets up, going to her purse on the kitchen counter. “Here’s a twenty. Go to the salon and get it fixed, and then I expect you to go back to school. Now, I have to get ready. Oliver can drive you to the salon. Wait until it opens at nine. Be good.” She kisses her children on the cheek and then Brandon, and leaves the room.
“Tough break, kid. Feel bad for you. See you tonight,” her father says. He kisses them on the cheek, too, and leaves to the garage to his car.
“Come on, Azalea. We gotta go.” Oliver motions to the garage, but she shakes her head.
“I’d rather walk. It’ll clear my head.”
“If you say so. I can’t believe she didn’t say anything about your member status. Or your straight-A’s. They’re both major,” Oliver says, going to the fridge to get a water bottle.
“I know! It’s not fair, and you and I both know if it was you we’d already be celebrating and making plans to go out for dinner, and getting you something nice!” Azalea yells, thankful that she hears shower water running.
“It’s alright. If you don’t want the ride…” Oliver says, glancing at the stove clock.
“Go. I’ll be fine, eventually. Bye, Ollie, love you.” She hugs him tightly, and kisses him on the cheek, knowing she would be on the train out of town before they even realized she was gone.
“Love you, too.” He strokes her now short hair and smells her shampoo, a citrus-like herbal scent, sharp but nice-smelling. “Be good, though. Don’t get in trouble, running all around town. See you at lunch?”
“No, I think I’ll just skip the rest of the day. Mom was right, it’s a beautiful day out,” she says to him.
“Alright. I’ll see you later. Love you!” He smiles at her, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.
“I still can’t believe you’re over a foot taller than me. Five-four isn’t that short!” Azalea says with a smile, playing that joke one last time.
“And I still can’t believe you’re only five-four. Mom’s five-six, at least,” Oliver says. “And six-six isn’t that tall.”
“Still taller than Mom,” Azalea says. “Aw, you gotta go. It’s six forty-five, you won’t get a parking space.”
“Bye, then.”
“Love you!” She says, trying to make this last goodbye as easy as possible.
“Love you.” He grins at her, and hugs her one last time. She grips him tightly, and she can feel tears forming. With one last wave, he slides his messenger bag across himself and leaves the kitchen. She furiously wipes her eyes on a tissue, and goes into the small half-bath by the kitchen to wash off the make-up, and then goes upstairs, careful to be quiet. She considers finding her own duffel bag to pack, but, on second thought, slides into Oliver’s room and gets his gym bag, carefully removing everything and putting it neatly on his bed.
She then goes into her room, and starts to pack. First she goes into her closet and pulls out three shirts, thermals in different colors. Then she finds her favorite pair of jeans and adds them to the pile. She gets a hair brush, and her mp3 player and the things she needs to recharge it if she ever gets a chance to. She gets her toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and soap, again in case she ever gets a chance to wash and shower. She finds another pair of jeans, and packs some random pairs of socks and underwear. After that, she gets her notebook and a couple pens and pencils. After that, she looks around her room. It looks so lifeless now, she thinks. Like my spirit is gone from this room. She remembers one other thing. She gets a clean sheet of paper, and goes into Oliver’s room, sitting down in the middle of his floor, and starts to write.

Dear Oliver,

I can’t tell you how much it hurts me to write every word on this piece of paper. Looking around in your room, I remember everything; the good, the bad. I wonder if I’ll ever see you again. And although I know you would’ve joined me in a heartbeat, I have to do this on my own.
And as clichéd as it sounds, I’m running away because I can’t take it anymore. You know I couldn’t, just couldn’t. It was just too hard, and I’d rather be alone than have to deal with this town. Even you said I could take care of myself, and that’s what I intend to do; and you know me, I’ll last. I’ll miss you desperately, and I hope you can forgive me someday. I’m sorry for leaving you, but you deserve something, someone better than me. I’m sorry, so sorry, please forgive me. I’m starting over, and I have to do what’s best for me. You were the thing keeping me here, but now even that can’t sustain me, and although writing this hurts me so much, I feel vindicated for leaving, and I still feel free, and I’ll never feel guilty for leaving, though I’ll regret never coming clean with you about leaving.
Don’t pity me, don’t come looking for me, please. Pretend I’ve gone to live with someone else, pretend I never existed. I’ll remember you for every day of my life, and I hope you know that I will. And I’m gone now, so you can live a normal life. Actually, don’t live a normal life, find people to start a band with. Be a rock star! If you ever become big, I’ll see you live and remember the good times. I love you, I love you so much.

Love,
Azalea

P.S. If you become famous, put me on the backstage list so I can see you, and talk to you face-to-face. Please?

She finishes the letter and reads it over, hoping that Oliver would understand her reasons to leave. He’s witnessed this stuff himself, she thinks. He has to understand. He has to. She hears her mother turning the shower water off and drying off, humming to herself. She silently gets up, stealing an envelope out of Oliver’s desk drawer, she seals up the letter and writes Oliver on it in big handwriting. On the back she scribbles on it, Sorry I stole your bag! and puts it on top of his basketball things, and, taking one last look at his room, leave the room and the house.

Funny thing about this town, Azalea thinks as she walks down the street to the bank. It’s so small, and yet, no one knows anyone’s business… She hears a car driving past, slowly, and she sees her mother’s cherry red car. She smiles and waves, and the car slows down, and her mother rolls down the window.
“Why do you have Oliver’s bag?” She asks her.
“I’m going to give to him at school, he forgot it at home,” Azalea lies, sure that her mother wouldn’t know that Oliver comes home to get it before going to practice.
“Oh. That’s very kind of you. Good luck at the salon, honey!” With that, she rolls up the window and zooms down the street, turning a corner. She rolls her eyes at her mother, and continues down the street, but not to the beauty salon, but to the bank right next to it. The bank opens at seven, so she walks in and goes up to the sleepy teller.
“Hello. I’d like to make a withdrawal, please,” she says to the teller, effectively waking her up.
“Alright. What’s your bank account number?” She asks her, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.
“Here’s my bank card. I’m just curious, but what’s my balance?” Azalea asks the teller.
“One second, please, miss,” the teller says, clicking keys on her keyboard. “Here it is! Six thousand, eight hundred twenty dollars and eighty cents. How much would you like to withdraw?”
“I’d actually like to close the account, please,” Azalea says politely.
“Really? Alright, then, would you like this in cash?” The teller says, taken aback by the request. Azalea nods.
“Yes, please. I know it’s an unusual request, but could you make about two hundred dollars in twenties, tens, and fives, ten dollars in ones and ten in quarters?” Azalea asks the teller, and she nods.
“That’s not so unusual. But first, I need to see a photo ID, if you could.” The teller watches as Azalea reaches into her back pocket for her school ID. “Good, good. Alright then. One minute, please, miss.” The teller turns around and starts to collect the bills, sixty-six one hundred bills, five twenties, seven tens, and six fives. Then she gets ten ones and a ten dollar quarter roll, and three extra quarters and a nickel. She puts it all in four envelopes and hands it to Azalea.
“Here you go, miss. If you would be so kind…?” She holds a withdrawal slip and a pen, which Azalea signs. “Thank you! Have a nice day.”
“You, too.” Azalea leaves and zips up the money in the duffel bag. She then walks to the phone booth and gets the phone book and looks up the train station, and starts to walk there.

When she arrives at the station she immediately finds the ticket station, where an elderly man was working.
“Welcome to the Amtrak station! I’m Jed, how may I help you?” The man says, and Azalea smiles.
“Hi, yes, Jed, I was wondering when the first train to the City would be available, please,” Azalea says to him.
“Of course, but if I could see an ID, please?” Azalea smiles, she was expecting this question. She pulls out her school ID and shows the man.
“My, my, shouldn’t you be in school young lady?” He says with a smile. She smiles back and explains.
“Yes, technically I should be, but I’m moving in with my father, who lives in the City. My mom and Dad are divorced, and I was living with my mom, but we had a horrible fight and I called my dad to see if I could live with him. He says it’s fine with him, but I have to pay my way up there. So here I am,” she says to him, sweetly. “He’s expecting me sometime today or tomorrow.”
“Alright, then. What class would you like to go in?” Jed asks, and she smiles. “If you go first class you can take the one that leaves in fifteen minutes. And to tell you the truth, economy class is really trashy. Not to take away business to Amtrak, of course.” He winks at her and giggles, adding to the sweetness persona.
“I’ll go first, then. This is my child support money, anyway. Got it off my mom before she kicked me out.” Azalea pulls out a hundred dollar bill and hands it to the man.
“Alright miss, out of a hundred it’ll be seventy-nine fifty, so here’s your change of twenty dollars and fifty cents. Here’s your ticket, it’s station six, if you go out here and take a right, and then go left you’ll reach your station. Since it’s a breakfast train, and since you’re first class, you’ll get a selection of delicious muffins and bagels, and of course a variety of drinks. Thank you for riding Amtrak, and have a nice day!” The man smiles and she turns to leave, following his instructions to station six, where she boards onto the comfortable first carriage, with creamy plush leather interior. A stewardess leads Azalea to her seat and offers her a selection of juices and sodas, and she takes an apple juice. Then she is left alone, and she sits back and watches her old life disappear.

She stands in front of the train station, and looks out into the City. She’s never been to here before, and it all seems so strange. There are so many people walking about, and it’s only one in the afternoon. There are a lot of teenagers roaming around the streets, too, and Azalea blended in immediately. The buildings seemed to tower over Azalea, and the streets were filled with shadows, even though the sun was shining brightly. She smiles and thinks, So this is my new home…where will I sleep? She takes a left, and finds herself on another street, this one longer, with more stores and boutiques. She walks along that for awhile, finally eating the chocolate chip muffin that she got on the train.
When she’s done with the muffin, she takes a turn and finds herself on another street, called Restaurant Row. True to the name, it’s filled with restaurant after restaurant, of all different varieties and styles. There’s a Ramen shop followed by a posh French Café, and then there’s a Mexican Restaurant, so many Azalea finds herself hungry, although she just ate the muffin a minute ago. With a sigh, she turns away from Restaurant Row and keeps walking among the boutiques and stores.
She walks for hours along that never-ending street, never seeing enough. She gets hungry again, and buys a hot dog from a street vendor, a large man with a potbelly who winks at her lasciviously. She raises her eyebrows and leaves, grateful he didn’t try anything. She was good at Martial Arts, but she wasn’t sure someone that big would go down. She eats her hotdog and throws away the wrapper as sun sets, and she finally turns, blindly stumbling into an alley. Instead of going back, she keeps walking, following where it will end up.
She finds a split in the ally, breaking it apart, and she takes a right, simply seeing where it will end up. Hey, it’s not as if anyone will be telling me no… she reasons, continuing to go along the alleyway maze. Suddenly she hears shouting, and screams of pain. She jumps a fence, and finds a vicious-looking man, standing in front of a woman on the pavement, crying and clutching her stomach.
“I thought I told you to shut up!” He yells, kicking the woman again. “If I tell you it’s not mine, it’s not mine.” With every word he kicks her stomach again. “Don’t bullshit me! Don’t say anything!” He lashes out again, and Azalea drops her bag, praying she doesn’t get blood on her hoodie.
“Hey!” Azalea yells. The man turns, murder in his eyes. “Don’t kick her!”
“And who are you to stop me? This is just business, and she doesn’t mind, does she?” He grabs the woman by her hair, and she starts to plead.
“No, don’t baby, I’ll give it up, it doesn’t matter, please no baby, baby please…” she cries, trying to reason with the man.
“Shut up!” He drops the woman on the hard pavement again. “I told you to be quiet!”
“Leave her alone!” Azalea shouts again. “Try hitting me, first.” She takes a defensive stance, one that was good for fighting a person larger than yourself. He lunges forward, and she dodges, and quickly kicks him in a kidney. He doubles over in pain, and she takes the opportunity to kick his stomach, and once to the neck, so he wouldn’t yell. “How do you like it? And there’s not even anything growing inside you!” He drops to the ground, holding his stomach. He goes still, and he stops moving.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” She yells, kicking him to the side, so that’s he’s face up.
“Is…he…dead?” The woman on the ground murmurs. She sits up shakily, and Azalea goes over to her.
“I’m not sure. I just wanted him to stop hurting you…are you alright?” Azalea says to her.
“I’ll be fine, eventually, I’m just not sure about the little guy inside me. He probably made me miscarriage.” The woman says, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “I hope he’s dead. He was my ex-husband. A couple months ago, we were at a party together and…and we slept together. Just once. But then I got pregnant, and I made the mistake of coming to him today…I just hope the little person inside isn’t gone.” Azalea helps her sit up against the fence, and goes over the man, checking his eyelids, and pulse. He was growing cold.
“I think I killed him,” Azalea murmurs shakily. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Honey, that’s fine with me. He was a jerk,” the woman says to her, finally coming out of the shock. “What are we going to do with him, then?”
“I’ll take him, if you want,” a voice says behind them, a male voice, creamy like silk, a deep baritone. They both turn towards the voice to reveal a pack of humans, all of different ages. There were four of them, very pale, and they seemed to glow, even though it was almost dark.
“Who are you? What do you want with a corpse?” Azalea asks, turning around, her eyes catching the light. “And why are you here?”
“We came when we heard screaming. We came just in time to see the show. Very impressive, by the way,” the baritone voice says, its owner stepping out. The voice belongs to an Asian man, in his early twenties wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and jeans with a long cut off-center from the knee to the ankle. He smiles at Azalea, and she feels her pulse quicken. Whoever this man is, he sends chills down her spine. He looks her in the eyes and his eyes open slightly wider.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Azalea says. “Why do you want a corpse?”
“Actually, we’re people from the local blood bank. We came to get the blood, we’re all just dying to get some more,” says a female voice, a woman who skips out of the shadows of one of the other men. The woman has long, waist-length hair, dyed various shades of purple and blue. She wears a ruby shirt with day-glo green and yellow stripes and Bermuda shorts, even though it’s cold for November. “So can we have it?” She peers at Azalea’s eyes, and she smiles secretively.
“Take it. Could you call an ambulance for me? I don’t know if I can walk to the hospital. I want to see if the little one is alright…” the woman on the ground says. “Please?”
“Weiss, escort her to the hospital. It’s not far, go slow. Then meet us back at the Palace,” the Asian man says, and the biggest guy in the group comes out and smiles at the woman.
“Come on, I’ll carry you!” He says, jovial as it can get in a dark alley with a dead man and a tearful woman. True to his word, he scoops up the woman and walks away. “So, how did you get in this situation?” He asks her as they walk away.
“Luc, carry the corpse to the Palace. The basement, second quartile, fourth column should be available.” The other man, skinny with silver hair gracefully extracts himself from the remaining members and picks up the dead man, and though heavy-looking the man picks him up bridal-style as if he weighs nothing.
“As you wish,” Luc says, and walks away. Then the Asian man turns to Azalea.
“Hello,” he says pleasantly, as if he didn’t just orchestrate the clean-up of the murder scene. “I am called Orion.”
“I’m Azalea,” she says, extending a hand to him and he takes it, shaking her hand firmly. His hand is like ice, his finger lithe and long like hers. “How do you do?”
“I’m good, thanks. And you?” He asks her, releasing her hand, and she gives him a shrug.
“It could be better,” she says with a wry smile.
“Yeah, yeah, pleasantries. I’m Mercury, and you’re coming with us!” The girl with the bright outfit cuts in. “Come on! Is this your bag?” She picks up the duffel bag and slings it over her shoulder.
“Hey! That’s my bag!” Azalea says, reaching out for it. But the girl, Mercury, steps away.
“Not gonna work! Come on, runaway. You need a place to stay, right?” Mercury asks, and Azalea looks at her critically.
“I’m not a runaway. I simply heard the yelling and came over to see what was wrong,” Azalea says. “I was on my way to my friends’ house.”
“Liar! This is the ghetto, and unless you were planning on popping major drugs, you wouldn’t have this money!” Mercury says, holding up the envelope filled with hundreds. “So you have to come with us, runaway!”
“Alright, fine, so I’m a runaway. What difference does it make to you?” Azalea says, simply overwhelmed by this girls’ character. “Why do you care?”
“Runaway, that’s great! Now you can join us! Come on!” Mercury sprints away, and Azalea sighs, and turns to Orion.
“Does she do this a lot?” She asks him, already tired out from just conversing with her.
“Yeah, she’s one hyper being,” Orion says. “I always get a headache around her. Come on, now that she has your bag.” He starts to walk, and Azalea walks with him.
“So, what does she want me to join?” Azalea asks him, as he leads her through the city.
“We’re a gang,” Orion says simply. “We, well, she, likes your fighting. And frankly, so do I. It was nice to see such apt fighting from such a young girl.”
“But I’m only what, three, four, years younger than you?” Azalea asks, wondering why a guy hardly older than her would call her so young.
“Yeah. That’s what I meant,” he says smoothly, and Azalea raises her eyebrows, but then dismisses it.
“So, how old are you anyway?” Azalea asks, still walking. Her points her to the left.
“I’m twenty-ish,” he says vaguely. “We’re almost there. Two blocks at most.”
“That’s cool. Mars…no, Mercury, was it?” He nods. “She runs fast. I thought she was right in front of us…”
“I know. We all do,” he answers mysteriously. “Why did you leave?”
“I’d rather not talk about it. It was…bad, to say the least.” Azalea says.
“Of course. So, would you like to?” Orion asks her.
“Like to what?” Azalea asks him, clueless.
“Like to join. I’m sure you’ll do fine with us. And who knows what’ll happen if you’re not with us?” Orion says to her. “We can induct you tonight, and then you’ll run with us. And with us, you won’t have to worry. We control this half of the city.”
“Oh. Alright, I suppose, since I don’t have anything left…what exactly is your safe site? Do you live there…?” Azalea asks, wondering what exactly she got herself into.
“Oh, you mean the Palace? It’s just an abandoned theatre, but it gets heat, don’t worry. We rigged up light, heat. It’s neat, actually,” Orion says with a smile. Rather nice smile, she muses to herself. Very nice.
“Neat? It’s spotless, thanks to me!” A familiar voice says, and Mercury seems to appear out of nowhere. Azalea jumps, but Orion’s smile seems to grow just a bit bigger. “I have to be the neat one, what with all these boys in my theatre! Honestly, Azalea, they’re slobs. And living for at least fifty years each, they should—” She’s cut off by a well placed hand, covering her mouth. Orion glares at her, and it’s chilling to Azalea. With wide eyes Mercury nods and Orion releases her.
“I mean, well, you’ll see. Come on!” With that, Mercury takes Azalea by the hand and leads her on, full out sprinting. They arrive, panting, at the front of a run-down, abandoned-looking theatre. This is where I’ll live? Azalea thinks to herself. What did I get into? Mercury doesn’t linger in front to the theatre long, though, and bursts open the doors and practically throws Azalea inside.
She blinks. Is this what the inside really is? She thinks in amazement, The walls are pure white, with random splashes of neon color thrown about, as if someone took a paintball gun to it. On the floor it’s plush carpet, a misty gray tone that balances the room. There’s a large couch, and five or six beds set to one side of the room. There’s a few doors heading to other spots in the theatre, but she can only stare in amazement, mentally comparing the rusty outside to the chic inside.
“Isn’t it the best?” Mercury says to her, smirking. “We did it ourselves. Weiss had a bit too much fun with the paint.”
“Where will I sleep?” She asks, and Mercury gestures to the beds.
“We don’t have our own beds. We switch it around, so just pick one, for tonight. Here’s your duffel, there’s definitely a lot of cash,” Mercury says, handing her the duffel bag.
“Yeah. I worked for a long time,” Azalea says, tossing her duffel onto one of the beds at random. “So, when’s those other two guys getting here, Luke and…?”
“Luc and Weiss. Luc is here, actually, he went to one of the other rooms, to check on something. We mainly use this room, but we don’t have a kitchen. We eat out most nights.” Orion walks in at that last part, and he grins.
“Right, right, sorry,” Orion says. “Meanwhile…guess who’s here.” A tall, huge man walks in after Orion.
“Ah, my star! You’re here!” He cries, and he runs in, picking Mercury up and holding her on his shoulder. “And who might this be?”
“Hello,” Azalea says. “I’m Azalea.”
“Weiss! Nice to meet you, are you a permanent addition to our clan, or just one of my darlings strays?” He motions to Mercury, perched on his shoulder like a cat.
“I think I’m a more permanent addition, actually,” Azalea admits, and he cracks a smile.
“Excellent! Than shall we begin?” He says, swinging Mercury off him. “Luc?” He calls, barely above his normal speaking voice. “Where are you?”
“I’m here, Weiss.” A lanky man says, with fine silver hair and matching eyes. “Let’s start.”
“Alright, here Azalea,” Orion calls to her, tossing her a knife. She catches it with ease and opens it, noticing the fine embossed silver of the handle. “Now, see where the hollow of your neck is? Oh, here, let me show you.” In an instant he’s standing before her, unzipping her hoodie and gently pulling aside the neck of her shirt. He positions the knife, and lets it go. He breathes out, and the coolness shocks her neck. “Alright. Now gently, make a cut right along that bone. Just enough to leave a scar, about a centimeter wide.”
She finds the will of the voice impossible to disobey, and she cuts, feeling the blood bloom up out of the opening, and the sharp spike of pain. Immediately she can feel a change in the air, and she hears hissing. Orion comes up to her, the only still in control, and he gently inhales the scent of the blood, exhaling his icy breath on her blood with a small hiss.
“Beautiful. Now, here,” he passes her a paper towel, wet with some type of liquid. “With this, wipe it along, and it’ll stop bleeding. Then hand me the towel.” She obliges, and she mops up her blood. She passes the paper towel to Orion, and she feels her eyelids droop. She closes her eyes, and she feels arms picking her up.
“Sleep, Azalea, love. Sleep,” she hears, and she feel her eyes close, her body conforming to the will of the voice.

“No. No!” Oliver yells, dropping the letter. He throws the stuff off his bed, and sinks unto it, disbelieving of her sister’s own words. “This can’t be true…” He storms across to his sister’s room, opening it to expose the faded green-and-silver interior. It’s empty, void of Azalea doing her homework. He didn’t hear he when he went into the house, but she was normally quiet.
“Azalea!” He yells, but the house is silent. “Azalea, where are you? Come out!” He runs through the house, throwing open every door and going into every room. “Azalea! Azalea!” When he’s finally done searching, he sinks to the ground, finally coming to terms with what the letter means. He goes to his room and picks it up again, carefully reading every word his sister put on the paper, every word a whisper to him.
“What are you talking about? You’re crazy, Azalea,” he whispers, his face white. “I love you, Azalea. I love you. Come back, come back. Explain it to me, tell me why you’re gone. I love you, so much.” He starts to sob, dry, heaving sobs. Eventually he stops and reads the last paragraph to himself, remembering her excitement from just last night.
“I think you’d be really good at guitar. Really. Yeah…that’s a good idea! I can see you playing guitar, having a band, maybe even singing lead vocals. You would be great at it, too!”
“Really, sis? Do you mean it?” Oliver whispers to himself. “I suppose she’s right, yet again. Little know-it-all.” He thinly smiles as he gets his wallet and grabbing his keys. “I wonder what kind of guitar I’ll find?” He walks out of his room, and he smiles wanly. His sister was right, one last time.
He goes into his car, and drives along the main street, sure he saw a music store along the road. In his haste to find it he doesn’t notice the curve of the street, and he keeps driving straight. He keeps going, and going, and then…

“Oliver!” Azalea screams, sitting up straight in an unfamiliar bed. No, this can’t be real, he can’t be dead, it can’t be true, she thinks frantically. “Oliver!” A light clicks, and she sees the other members of the gang, her new gang, she corrects herself.
“Who’s Oliver? A lover?” Mercury says, coming up to her and sitting on her bed. “Tell, tell! These boys are no fun at all to gossip with.”
“He’s my brother,” Azalea explains, but Mercury smiles at her, bigger.
“So? In my day, incest was common, especially if the other sibling was cute!” Mercury says.
“Well, Oliver is good-looking…but we’re just friends.” Azalea says with a smile. “He’s the best brother a girl like me could have.”
“So it is love,” Mercury says with a knowing smile.
“It’s not! It’s just, well…” Azalea trails off, remembering the dream, the premonition, almost. “Do you have a cell phone?” Mercury pulls it out of her pocket and passes it to her, and she dials Oliver’s number like reciting the alphabet, commonplace, deeply embedded in her memory like her name or her age. She hears it ring, and ring, and finally…
“H’lo?” A voice answers, and it makes tears prick out of Azalea’s eyes. “Who’s this?”
“Oliver! Ollie, love, you’re fine, you’re okay, you’re safe,” Azalea murmurs, and her voice jolts Oliver awake.
“Azalea! Azalea, where are you? Do you want me to get you? Are you in trouble?” Oliver almost shouts, his voice weak with relief. Before she can answer, he’s out of his bed in a flash, pulling on clothes at random.
“No, no, you can’t come and get me, I shouldn’t’ve called, I’m sorry for giving you hope, Ollie,” Azalea says, remembering where she is once again.
“What are you talking about? You must be crazy,” Oliver says to her. “Come on, it’s okay, even if you’re in jail, I’m eighteen now, I can bail you out, it’s fine. Mom and Dad don’t even have to know.”
“I’m not in jail, I’m fine, I’m with some friends. It’s alright Oliver. Let me go,” Azalea says calmly.
“No, it’s not okay! Tell me where you are!” Oliver says into the phone losing her temper. He can feel her flinch, and he immediately calms, and brokenly he says, “Tell me.”
“I can’t. I can’t, just, don’t forget me. I know I told you to and all, but it would hurt to know your best friend will forget that I even existed. Please, just don’t give up. Play, and sing. You sing so nice. I love you, Ollie,” Azalea says to him. “I love you.”
“I love you too, so much more than you’ll ever know. You’re gorgeous, you’re beautiful, so beautiful. I’ve always wanted to tell you that,” Oliver says, realizing that this might be their last chance to talk. “You’re smart, amazing, everyday I’m surprised someone better than me doesn’t come and whisk you away.”
“What? Oliver, now you’re the one that’s crazy,” Azalea says with a small laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“No, I mean it, so much, Azalea. I love you, I love you,” he says to her. “Please tell me you understand.”
She sits there, listening to his ragged breathing, shocked at his confession. Mercury sits, her smile seeming to grow larger with each passing second, as if she already knew everything.
She takes a breath, and smiles. “I understand. Why me, Ollie? I’m your best friend, and your sister—”
“I know about that already!” He cries, frustrated. “Don’t you think I know the boundaries? But since I might never see you again…I just wanted to let you know.”
“I know, Ollie. I know. I’ve had those thoughts, too, on lonely nights. But you know it won’t work. I love you, Ollie, but…somehow, now, away from everything at home I can feel that we weren’t meant for each other.”
“Don’t say that…” Oliver murmurs. “Don’t…”
“I have to. You know Lisa, right, from the dojo? She was friendly enough, try her. Anyone but me, please. I know you love me, and I love you, but don’t dwell on me. Please?” Azalea asks him, wiping a tear away from the corner of her eye. “Don’t, just don’t. As long as you don’t tell anyone, I might never come home.”
“What? You must be joking. You have to be joking. No…you have to come back to me. Please?” He begs her, and she smiles thinly.
“We both know that I can’t do that, Oliver. Now be a good boy. Learn your guitar, and maybe we’ll see each other again. Make it your goal to be famous, make it your goal to see me,” Azalea whispers to him.
“It’s so sad that just yesterday we only saw each other, and now you’re making me learn, grow, make goals,” Oliver says with a short bark of a laugh. “I suppose that’s a good goal, if I have to have one. To make you see me again.”
“Yeah, it really is. Listen, I have to go…you have to sleep,” Azalea says, wistfully, almost wishing she was just across the hallway.
“I suppose so. I hope you don’t regret this, Azalea. Honestly,” Oliver says to her. “I don’t know what Mom and Dad are thinking right now, I bet they think you’re sleeping over at a friend’s house.” He smiles, reminiscent of the deception, of the days when they were just themselves and no one else, lying to make themselves happy, and only caring about each other.
Azalea sighs, and she sadly smiles, and is sure he can feel it. “I figured as much. We were better at the deception than we ever dreamed we were. I’m surprised it’s still working.”
“So am, I Azalea, so am I. But even still, we should sleep. These friends of yours have given you a bed, right?” Oliver asked, suddenly remembering she’s gone from all comfort and security she used to have.
“Yeah, I do. Nice one, actually. Looks are always deceiving, I suppose…well, I love you,” she says, visualizing the building out front and how radically different it is on the inside.
“Don’t I know it. I love you, even though you don’t love me like that, Azalea. I promise I’ll see you someday, from onstage, with millions of fans cheering for me. I promise.” He crosses his heart, and he softly laughs. “If only I knew how to play the guitar!”
“I’m sure it will come to you. Yeah. It will eventually,” she says to him, confident of his musical skills. “I love you. Bye.”
“I love you, too. Bye.” With that, both hang up the phone, and Mercury’s smile grows even cattier.
“So, that’s your brother?” Mercury says. “He sounds delightful.”
“He is. He’s too good to me, too good,” Azalea says with a sigh.
“He has no clue of where you are, though, right?” Orion says from across the room, looking at her warily. She nods.
“No clue. Are there any rules, anything I have to do for you, for our gang?” Azalea asks, and they glance at each other.
“There are some things we need to discuss. If you aren’t going to sleep, come, and we’ll tell you,” Luc says to her, and she obediently comes over and sits on one of the couches, the one Orion is on. She curls up and looks at them. When Mercury walks over, Orion begins.
“Firstly, you must show your scar to any newcomers. We all have one just like it right here. Yours will be this color too, we put a special…ingredient to that towel you wiped the blood off with.” He tilts his neck to the side, revealing his own scar, the only imperfection on the perfectly pale skin of his neck. The scar was pale blue in the light, and she marveled at the iridescent color. She looks at her own neck to see if it was the same color, but it’s not, yet, just the beginning of a pale scab starting to appear. “This is simply so everyone knows what gang you belong in.”
“Next, in some situations where…delicate proceedings occur, if I tell you to run, you run. You must never linger, and you must obey,” Weiss chimes in, the deadly seriousness of his voice startling Azalea, because even in the short time she was talking to him, he seemed jovial and playful.
“No staying. Got it,” Azalea says.
“If you must fight, you must fight hand-to-hand only. We do not use weapons of any kind,” Orion says, leading the discussion again.
“I wouldn’t know how to use them anyway,” Azalea says to them with a shrug. They nod.
“Also, if someone pulls a weapon out on you, yell for one of us, and we will assist you,” Orion says with a tight smile. “Don’t ask how.”
“Finally, we split anything we get. If you get twenty bucks from some guys pocket, we each get four. This doesn’t apply to your money. You brought that with you; We won’t touch it,” Orion finishes. “Did you get that?”
“Keep scar exposed, run if instructed to, no weapons, yell for assistance if I get stuck in a pickle, and we split what we get,” she recites. “I got it. Nice and simple. I like it.”
“Yeah. We don’t like complications.” Mercury smiles and Weiss gives a hearty laugh. “Especially with Kreios.”
“Who’s Kreios?” Azalea asks no one in particular, but it’s Orion again who responds to her question.
“Kreios’s gang and our gang are the ones that truly control the City, Kreios taking one half, and us taking the other. Therefore we have a strong rivalry among each other, and are constantly clashing to take control of certain section, to increase our borders. It also does not help that for some reason Kreios has been out to get me as soon as he set foot in this city. It’s as if he knew me from some other time. Whatever the reason, Kreios stops at nearly nothing to take me down. Be wary of them.” His face shows nothing but hatred, but when he sees Azalea, he smiles. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll protect you.”
“If you say so,” Azalea says, doubt creeping into her voice.
“So, tell me about this Oliver boy! Does he hunt, or is he more of the gathering sort?” Mercury says, flipping back a tendril of purple hair.
“Hunting or gathering sort? Oliver’s on the basketball team, if that’s what you mean. I suppose that’s considered hunting nowadays…” Azalea looks off, thoughtful. “You don’t talk in common English, do you, Mercury?”
“What do you mean? This is perfect English!” Mercury says, disgruntled.
“Well, it is, but the way you speak seems…older than what you look. No one’s hunted or gathered for long time, Mercury,” Azalea says. “I learned about it in History class, but…it just seems odd for someone like you to be talking. Is it some sort of new slang?”
“No, I just say things weird. But you get a hang of it, eventually.” Mercury smiles. “You avoided the question! Tell me about this Oliver boy. Does he have eyes like yours?”
“Like mine? Not really…his is a lighter shade of blue,” Azalea recalls, finding it surprisingly hard to remember the face of her own brother. They had been around each other for so long that it wasn’t about the faces, but about how they talked and interacted with each other.
“No, the line, does he have that? I heard if one sibling had it, the other one might…” Mercury says to her.
“No, he doesn’t have the line, if that’s what you mean. But he has the same skin and hair like mine.” She smiles, and remembers how it ruffled in the breeze, his hair wavy and curly while hers was a straight as a pin.
“I see,” Mercury says pensively. “Well, it’s almost three. It’s time for the dead man’s shift.” She rises, and Weiss does, too. “Ta.”
“Bye!” Weiss says, boomingly. “We’ll see you at six.” They walk out of the theatre and she turns to them.
“Why are they leaving?” She asks, rubbing an eye. She looks down to see she’s in a pair of pajama pants. “And when did I change into pajama pants?”
“They’re Mercury’s. She bought them awhile ago, but she never found the…” Orion looks to Luc for a second. “…opportunity to wear them. So she put them on you.”
“Oh. That makes sense. But wouldn’t she want to use some pajamas? And why are these the exact size for me?” Azalea asks.
“You and Mercury are the same size. You’re skinny like her.” Luc smiles, and it seems unconvincing to Azalea. She knew she was waif-like, but even she doubted she would be as skinny as Mercury, who seemed almost unnaturally skinny.
“Anyway, how about you change so we can get some food or something?” Orion says with a smile that’s too reassuring. “There’s a twenty-four hour café on Restaurant Row. Nice food, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything in a while …”
Azalea smiles at him, thankful that he thought of food. She hasn’t eaten anything since the hotdog the day before, and she’s hungry. She goes over to her bag and finds the pair of jeans on she had on yesterday, the gray sticking out from the simple blue she packed with her. She glances over to the boys for one second, and, seeing they were talking, quickly changes into her gray jeans. She looks over again and hastily pulls out a new shirt from her bag, too, and changes into that, too. With that, they find her presentable and leave.
“So, how old are you, Luc?” Azalea asks him at they walk.
“Um, seventeen, I believe,” he says. “Left.” They got to the left and keep walking. “But I don’t really keep track of it.”
“Really? Why not?” Azalea asks, curious. “And what about school?”
”Well, I don’t feel I need to keep a running tally of years I’m still alive,” Luc says vaguely. “And for school…well,” he glances at Orion, “I’m more street smart, I guess. School was just tying me down, so I left.”
“Oh, I see,” Azalea says. “Did you finish school, then, Orion?”
“Not really, I didn’t have much schooling, actually,” Orion says. “Didn’t enjoy it. Ah, here we are. It that one, the one with the blue awning.”
“And don’t be surprised but their outfits, it’s pajama night,” Luc says with an unholy grin. Azalea looks at him.
“Pajama night?” She says quizzically as Orion holds the door open for her. She walks inside and sees the host. “Oh. Pajama night.” The host is clad in blue plaid pajama pants and a tight white undershirt.
“Welcome, here’s your table,” he says, taking them to an empty table. Azalea looks around to see other people coming at this late hour, but there aren’t any.
“Your server should be here shortly,” he says, shuffling back to his post. They look at the menu, and Azalea decides on roasted tomato soup with garlic seasoning, and a grilled cheese sandwich with a coffee, hoping she won’t crash from the lack of sleep she got. As soon as she decides, a blond server comes up, dressed in baggy print pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, her hair thrown up into an extremely messy ponytail. Azalea fingers her hair and hopes it’s better than that of the server’s.
“Hello, I’m,” the server yawns, “Lizzie, and I’ll serve you tonight. Can I get,” yawn, “you something to drink?”
“I’ll have a coffee, black, with a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup with garlic on it, please,” Azalea says, handing her the menu.
“Alright,” she yawns again, and turns to the boys. She eyes widen immediately and smiles. “Hello, can I get you anything?” Azalea huffs, and she’s almost positive she heard double meaning in it. Orion puts a reassuring arm around he shoulder and Azalea can see the server’s smile start to slip.
“Hello,” Luc says with a dazzling smile. The server’s smile gets even bigger. “Me and Orion want that special wine you folks have.” He winks and she gets the meaning.
“Oh. That type of wine.” Her smile fades and replaced with a frightened look. “Pardons. I didn’t know…”
“Oh, it’s fine, sweetling. Just get us some of that and we’ll be perfect,” Luc says, and she nods.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right back,” she says, shuffling back into the kitchen.
“It’s such a shame humans cannot be fully nocturnal,” Orion comments. Luc turns to him.
“Well, actually it is possible,” he reasons. “If…” Azalea tunes them out, watching the host pull three chairs together and lays across them. She gets up and goes over to him, sitting on top of a table by his makeshift bed.
“Why are you people so sleepy? I mean, aren’t you used to the late hours and stuff?” Azalea asks him.
“What late hours? The boss drags us in here, saying if we don’t come, our asses are out on the street!” he says, sitting up.
“Seriously? That’s so cruel!” Azalea says.
“What are you even talking about. You and your gang are probably the people that phoned the boss!” He says again.
“I didn’t know that…it probably was because of me,” Azalea murmurs, glancing back at the boys, still debating about whether or not someone could be nocturnal. “I haven’t eaten in a long time, but I guess they already ate. All they ordered is some wine…”
“What? They ordered the wine? I can’t, I can’t talk to you,” the guy says again, almost nervously, going back to his booth. She follows him, curious.
“Why not? It’s not as if I’m some sort of monster!” Azalea says to him, shocked.
“Is that so? The boss tells us to serve wine only to those freaky pale people. Only to the pale ones. There’s no wine list here. We don’t serve any booze! And then, when my waiter buddy John steals some, he mysteriously vanishes off the face of the earth, and we get a couple more cases of wine,” the host says, his eyes flickering to Orion and Luc.
“That certainly is odd, I suppose,” Azalea muses. “But why else do you think Orion and Luc aren’t…human?”
“Well, then when…hey, you’re pretty cute. What’s your name?” He says, finally looking at her in the eyes.
“I’m Azalea. Who are you?” She says, pleasantly sticking a hand out.
“I’m Jordan.” He says, shaking her hand. “We should get a drink sometime. Anyway, then when everyone leaves after work one night, I sneak a taste from one of the bottles, just to see what I was missing, and it tastes…like blood.” He looks at her face, and she keeps it neutral. He softens. “It’s fine, but don’t go telling your vampire buddies I know, or I’ll end up like John-as Chateau du Jordan!” He grins at her, and she smiles back. “So, what about that drink?”
“Um, sure. I’d love to go drinking…but I’m still a minor. Sixteen, sorry!” Azalea says with a small grin.
“I see. What about a coffee? Non-alcoholic, and there’s a great poetry reading Sunday night! I mean,” he looks at her face, “if you’re into that kind of thing.”
“No, I love poetry, it’s just…I don’t know if me and the gang are doing anything, or if I have to do something…” Azalea trails off. “Tell you what, my food’s here, and they must be wondering where I went. Let me ask them, and I’ll get back to you when we leave.” He smiles.
“Of course,” he says, and she waves before going back to the table. She sits and they look at her, their debate stopping entirely.
“Where did you go?” Luc says with a small grin, as if they already heard everything.
“Talking with the host,” Azalea says with a small smile.
“Ah, the cute on in the tight shirt?” He says, taking a sip of his wine. She takes spoonful of soup and gulps it down, nodding. “Ah, he is cute! Good taste!”
“…And I’ve been friends with you for years and didn’t know you were bisexual,” Orion says with a comical shudder.
“Mais oui, mon ami,” Luc says in perfect French. “But yes, my friend,” he translates with a wink.
They drink and eat in silence for a few minutes when Azalea finally finishes her soup, moving on to her sandwich. She takes a bite and drinks the last of her milk. Orion motions to the server and she obligingly takes Azalea’s glass into the kitchens for more milk. “Hey, Orion?” She says to him, timidly. I’ve only just joined this gang. She reasons. I’m not asking permission, I just don’t want to…step on any eggshells.
“What is it, my flower?” Orion asks her, turning his black gaze on her.
“I was wondering…if it would be alright to…go on a date,” she says. He raises his eyes brows but motions for her to continue. “It’s with the host, Jordan, and he invited me to a poetry reading…I was into that sort of thing, and well…I won’t go if there’s something up, but, I want to.” Azalea says disjointedly, and Luc cracks a grin.
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sure Mercury will be delighted to dress you up. Ah, have we discussed the layout of our home?” Azalea shakes his head, and Luc continues. “We use about eight ‘rooms’: the stage, the green room by there, the dressing rooms adjacent to the green room, the orchestra pit, and the balconies, one foe each of us. The stage is for practicing our combat, when newbie gangs, or Kreios’s gang, decide to attack us. The green room we use as community showers and bathrooms, where there are the adjacent dressing rooms, where Mercury keeps her extensive wardrobe. We use the orchestra pit as a makeshift lab, which Weiss mainly uses. We use the lab for…many reasons.”
“What, looking for the secret to life?” Azalea asks with a snort, and Orion and Luc glance at each other for a millisecond before chuckling along with her.
“Ah, if only,” Luc says with a wide grin. He hold up his empty glass and the server rushes to fill it. He takes another sip before continuing. “The balcony is our own private ‘room’, we decorate it and such. We use them for privacy, for doing our ‘thing’. Orion’s is the one used the most, and it’s pretty comfy. I’m sure we can renovate one for you.” He smiles and she chews on her sandwich, surprised she’s still hungry after all that’s been happening. She finishes her sandwich and Orion collects the check. Remembering it’s mostly her meal he’s buying, she pulls out some money, but Orion refuses it. She tries again, but he simply hands his own money to the waitress.
“Don’t forget to say yes to that boy, Justin? Jonathon?. Say you’ll meet him at Twentieth and Harding,” Orion whispers in her ear, her icy breath sending shivers down her spine, and she nods. She walks up to Jordan with a smile and pokes him in the face. He’s awake in an instant.
“That coffee still offer still good?” She asks with a smile.
“Yeah, yeah, of course. What can you go?” He asks. She nods and he lights up. “Great! I’ll see you in…two nights? One night?”
“Just a night. I’ll see you then,” Azalea waves again and rejoins Orion and Luc. They walk out of the restaurant and go back to the theatre.

“So, what’s been happening whilst we’ve been away?” Mercury asks with a smirk and a giggle, coming into the main room perched on Weiss’s shoulder.
“Azalea’s going on a date!” Luc says, excited, looking up from the book he was reading. “The tomorrow night! Wait, is today Saturday, already? It is! So tomorrow!”
“Hey! I wanted to tell her!” Azalea says with a laugh, sitting up from her sprawled position on the couch.
“What? Why? With who?” Mercury says, hopping down, flitting over to Azalea. “Tell me! And what about Oliver?”
“I’m going on a date. Well, it’s more of a poetry reading, actually,” Azalea begins, but Mercury already cuts her off.
“Poetry! How romantic!” Mercury says with a wide smile. “When did he ask you? Who is he? How old is he?”
“Well, his name Jordan, and he’s the host at the restaurant Orion, Luc and I went to. We were talking, because Orion and Luc were debating about something or other-”
“Hey! Whether or not a human can be fully nocturnal is highly important!” Luc interjects. “Isn’t that right, Orion…Orion? Where are you?” He gets up. “Orion! Orion!” He leaves through one of the doors. “Orion!”
“Anyway, I’m not really sure how old he is. He asked me drinking though, so over twenty-one, I assume,” Azalea reasons. Mercury nods, and then grins.
“I’ll be right back,” Mercury says, getting up and leaving in one fluid movement. Azalea looks at the door funny.
“You get used to it!” Weiss booms. “Now, would you like a tour of the place?” Azalea shrugs, and nods.
“Sure. But, I can walk. Just don’t carry me like Mercury. It seems awfully high up,” Azalea says, craning her neck to see his shoulder. He laughs.
“Done. Come, this is the hallway.” He walks through the door and she follows, to see a clear blue hallway. Almost the color of Ollie’s eyes, she thinks to herself. It’s pretty. He goes into the first door on the right, the stage.
“It’s enormous,” she marvels, seeing how far it goes out, and the balconies. There are two balconies with curtains over them, one silver and one a burnt orange, and one with a purple curtain turned to the side. She looks further and on her far right there’s one balcony with a light on. “Hello?” She calls out. She sees a silver-haired head pop out.
“Azalea! Sing us a song!” Luc calls, and she smiles.
“Not today,” she calls back. “Maybe some other time?” He nods and his head disappears.
“This is where we practice our combat. Hand-to-hand, remember,” Weiss says. “Do you want to spar for a minute?”
She considers it. “Sure. It’s not as if we have to do anything else, right?” He smiles.
“I like your attitude. Come, I’ll let you attack first,” Weiss says, spreading his arms wide. “Let’s see if you can best me!” She easily takes the “Fire” attack stance and lunges, just barely missing his arm. “Azalea, dear, not the best.” He chides. “What about this?” He lunges and she misses him by a hair’s width. She attacks him, a flurry or punches and kicks which doesn’t land, and then his leg comes out of nowhere, knocking her down.
“Damn,” Azalea says, getting up. “I haven’t fallen like that in a year or more!” He laughs and helps her up.
“Don’t feel bad about it. We have that effect,” Weiss says with a laugh. “We pratice almost obsessively. Come on, let’s go to the lab.” He slides of the stage and Azalea gracefully leaps down, eyeing one of the dusty chairs. “Oh, and I wouldn’t want to sit in one of those chairs. They’re prone to spiders. Now, slide down!” He jumps into the orchestra pit, and she can see the clean, sterile lab already. She comes down with the help of Weiss and looks around.
“It really does look like you’re trying to produce the secret of life in here!” Azalea says, looking at all of the charts and documents and potions brewing around.
“Yeah, sure. Just ask before you start something, alright? Like candy or whatever. That actually would be interesting….” Weiss says, almost nervously. “Here, let’s go to the green room. I’m sure you’ll love Mercury’s closet.” He lifts her back up before simply leaping up himself and they climb back onto the stage and go back into the blue hallway.
“So, here’s the green room,” Weiss says, opening the door on the left. True to the name, they painted it a light, sea foam green walls and darker, almost emerald green tiles. On the far wall there are some dressers, and to Azalea’s right there are three full bathtubs with green curtains, and on her left there are four stalls, and a white-washed door.
“Wow,” Azalea says when she sees the floor. “How did you do this with no one noticing? And do you guys ever go home or anything? Do you even had a home?”
“Well,” Weiss begins, then hesitating. “We’re all orphans. Well, we were left on the streets, alone. We don’t know if we have…family, or any such thing. So Orion banded us together, he’s literally the savior that we were praying for. He saw us alone, and we found company in each other. So he is our founder, and therefore our leader. We couldn’t be happier with him.”
“Wow,” she says, taken aback his bluntness and how direct he answered her question. “In that case, I don’t see any other reason to question this place. It’s remarkable, at any rate. How you all managed to do this, even though you all look under twenty-five!” He smiles at her again.
“Yeah, well we all worked on it. Here, that door leads to Mercury’s well, our, closet. But it’s mostly Mercury’s. The boys and I only have our winter coats hanging in there. We have the rest of our clothes in those drawers over there.” He points to the white washed wooden dressers, all lined with various products and clothes.
“Come, look inside. I’m sure Mercury will have a grand time finding you something to wear for your infamous date,” Weiss says with a smirk as Azalea unsuspectingly walks in. It’s an enormous room, lined with multiple chests of drawers and hanger rods, each almost crammed full with clothing.
“How can she afford all of these clothes?” Azalea murmurs to Weiss, running her hand over a silk, burnt orange floor length number, with tiny yellow flowers embroidered on the neck, running down to the bottom. “She must have spent a small fortune in this room!”
“We try not to think about it,” Weiss says with a grimace. “It’s her main downfall,” he says, wincing at the dress she was looking at. “But anyway, I’m sure we can find something for you in this room,” he adds, looking around. “Yes, definitely. And anyway, here’s the shoe racks. Let’s hope you’re her size.”
“I’m a…seven? Eight? I haven’t gone show shopping in ages. Let me check.” She sits down on a chair by the door and unlaces a converse, looking under the tongue for a size. “Seven and a half.” Weiss grabs a shoe a random and looks.
“Good, you’re her size,” he says with an audible sigh of relief. “Otherwise it would’ve been disastrous.” She laughs and puts her shoe back on, browsing the racks.
“Are you looking for something?” An annoyed voice says from the door. “This is my closet, after all.”
“Mercury, darling, I was just giving Azalea a tour!” Weiss booms. “Good news! She’s your size!”
She squeals and is over by Azalea in an instant. “Yay! Are you looking for something in particular? I have a zillion shoes to look through, and it might take a while…and we’re going to find you a perfect date outfit! I have something in mind, but you might not like it, but trust me, it’s perfect for coffee and a poetry reading! You’ll love it,” she gushes.
“Well, I have some time to think about it, anyway, since it’s not till tomorrow night,” Azalea says. She turns to Weiss. “And you guys are sure I can go? I wouldn’t want to miss anything, and especially with being new and all…it seems like it’s unfair.”
Mercury playfully slaps Azaleas arm. “Don’t even think about it. We know there won’t be any attacks until Monday, when we’re least expecting it.” She pouts, turning towards Weiss. “Now, if only Weiss here would take me out nice and properly.”
“Hey, hey. You’ve never said anything. I’ve always thought you didn’t like me that way,” Weiss says in protest. “Great, thanks, Azalea. You’ve planted the seed in her mind.” He smiles seductively at Mercury. “So, you’re interested in me now?”
“No. I just wanna party,” Mercury says sweetly. She turns back to Azalea. “So, have you seen any of our balconies?” She asks, and Azalea shakes her head.
“Not really. I’ve just seen the outsides of them, from the stage,” Azalea says. She leans into Mercury. “By the way, are Luc and Orion…together?” Mercury laughs, and turns to Weiss.
“She thinks Luc and Orion are together!” Mercury says with a giggle, and Azalea’s face turns red, which makes her laugh harder, which makes even Weiss let out a hearty chuckle.
“So no, then?” Azalea says, hiding her red face. They both nod, and Mercury looks at her, gauging her.
“What, you like one of them or something?” Mercury says. “’Cause that’d be unfair to this Jordan guy you’re going out with.”
“No, I was just curious. They seem closer than friends, that’s all,” Azalea says. Mercury tosses back a strand of blue hair and giggles again.
“I wouldn’t say they were together at all. I mean, hang around them for five decades…I mean hours and you’ll know that Orion isn’t interested in anyone like that, and Luc will hump anything that moves. Period. Orion’s actually very unfeeling,” Mercury says thoughtfully.
“Really? I didn’t think he would be that bad, actually,” Azalea says. “He seemed very nice to me.”
“Really, now,” Mercury says, looking her over. “Wait here.” She flits out of the room, coming back thirty seconds later to produce three articles of clothing. “Weiss, out!” She literally pushes him out of the room and he clicks the door shut. “Now, put this one on, first.” She hands Azalea a shirt, and she looks at it for a moment before cautiously putting it on. It’s a scoop neck black and white long-sleeved shirt, with little tiny grommets along the neckline, exposing small circles of skin. The hem of the shirt falls just below her belly button when she gets it on, the low neck exposing her more skin than she prefers. “Now this one, overtop!” She hands her a flat-colored charcoal halter top with a plunging neckline, daringly low, that’s tight and clings to her. The hem of this is even lower than the top she has underneath, exposing some of that fabric at the hem.
“Mercury, this is really to much—and where are we going? I mean, it’s not as if we’re going to go clubbing. It’s much to late for that,” Azalea protests.
“Hush,” Mercury says, staring at Azalea. “Oh! I know! I’ll be right back, put these on.” She shoves two extremely long charcoal socks into her hands and skips out of the room. Azalea sighs and unzips her jeans, taking off her socks. I get the feeling I’ll never have to think about another outfit again… she thinks, pulling the socks up past her knees, and up her thighs. Mercury comes back into the room with something plaid and white.
“Good! They look great! Now, pull this on, and we’ll go to the balcony to see Orion,” Mercury says, practically hopping up and down with excitement. “Oh! Shoes!” She runs around the racks searching, finally grabbing a pair of boots and handing them to Azalea. She looks at them and sees that they’re cloud gray slouchy boots with multiple belt buckles on them. She sighs again, but puts them on, wavering slightly when she gets up, not used to the extra two inches she gets from the boots. Mercury fixes her hair with a couple bobby pins and a barrette with a large gray silk rose, marching her out of the room.
“So, why am I dressed like this?” Azalea says as she hears her boots clack along the hard floors, and the soft whoosh of the heat .
“Think of it as an experiment!” Mercury says excitedly. They go across the hallway to the second door on the left and Mercury leads her up winding, twisting stairs to where there’s another hallway in a pale butter color. There are four polished doors, and four that are taped or boarded over. She goes into the one on the far left, and motions for Azalea to follow.
“Everyone, what do you think of Azalea?” Mercury asks as Azalea enters nervously. They all look at her, and she feels her face turning red. “Isn’t she pretty?”
She looks up and sees Luc and Weiss grinning at her. She smiles back, nervously, biting her raspberry lips in anticipation. She looks into Orion’s eyes, though, and her eyes open wider. He’s gazing at her like she’s perfect, like she’s the only girl for him. His eyes are full of something, but she can’t quite recall the name for that feeling.
“So? Don’t I do good work? Isn’t she gorgeous? Well, more gorgeous than before, at least,” Mercury says. “Don’t you think Jordan would just love it?” She looks at Orion for that last part, and Luc starts to laugh.
“Good work, mon ami! What good fun!” Luc says through chuckles and then Weiss laughs, too.
“Ah, Mercury, my darling. Don’t meddle,” Weiss says, clapping her on the back. “Anyway, let’s find her a balcony!”
“Yes, let’s!” Mercury says, skipping out of the room again, her berry-colored hair flailing behind her. Luc and Weiss trail after her, and then it’s just Orion and Azalea in the small space. She looks around, and it seems like a unique blend of Eastern and Western. On the short wall separating the rest of the theatre to the balcony there’s a mural of flowers, and they look familiar…
“Azaleas,” he whispers, standing up. “I painted Azaleas.”
“When?” She says, startled that it’s like he read her thoughts. “Before I came here, right?” He nods, and she continues to scan the little ‘room’. On the floor there’s plush carpeting in red, to match the Azaleas on the wall. There are cushions and small blankets scattered around the floor, and a small iHome system.
“Long before you arrived,” he says, looking into her eyes. “You look beautiful.” She blushes at that and he smiles. He holds out her hand and she grasps it, letting him lead her out the door.
“How dangerous are these balconies, anyway?” Azalea asks, as he finds the open doorframe leading to one of the unused balconies, the frame after the door next to Orion’s.
“Oh, I’d say very,” he says in a conversational tone. “But we manage. Don’t worry, we make them as safe as we can,” he adds to reassure her.
“Um, great!” Azalea says. They go into the balcony, only to find Luc and Mercury sitting on the balcony ledge, pulling up Weiss out of a huge hole.
“Didn’t see that coming, eh, Azalea?” Luc says with a smile. They get Weiss back up and he, too, perches on the ledge.
“Hello! We might not want to use this one,” Mercury says. “Clear!” Orion softly pushes Azalea to the side and Mercury leaps, making an almost inhuman leap to the edge where Orion neatly catches her and deposits her on the ground. He does the same for Weiss, and then for Luc, who hugs him tightly.
“Well, hello, sweet thing,” Luc purrs to Orion. “I was just dropping in, and there you were!” Luc cups Orion’s face with his hand and Orion makes to throw him over the hole to the ground, but Mercury stops him just in time.
“Now, now, we don’t want Luc over the edge! We might scare Azalea!” She says, bounding over to the next doorframe, this one with wood over it. She pulls at the wood and it lets free as easily as if she was tugging cotton candy, and she drops the pieces on the floor. She goes inside, and giggles.
“This one is free!” She calls. They can hear a couple thumps, and then she calls again, “And it doesn’t break!” They go in, and see it’s the one next to Orion’s, because they can see the delicate flowers and decorations of his balcony. Azalea looks at the balcony to see it’s a small sort of space, a rectangle no bigger than eight feet across and four width-wise, but it looks sturdy and big enough for her own possessions.
“I like it,” Azalea says, walking around. The balcony ledge is about three and a half feet high and about five inches thick, big enough for a small clock or a vase of flowers. “It’s nice, big enough for a chair, a bed maybe, and some color, a carpet, a light, and look! There’s an outlet.” She turns to them. “And I can really have it?” They nod, and Mercury hugs her.
“We can take care of everything. I doubt you need the bed, though, because you can sleep downstairs,” Mercury says to her. “But we can get some carpet, and a chair, we can have you pick out a chair, a comfy one! And what color would you like it painted?”
She turns to look at them, doubt in her eyes. “I still don’t get it. Why are you letting me join? What’s your purpose? Do you guys have an ulterior motive?”
“Sweetie, if we had an ulterior motive we wouldn’t have bothered being so nice,” Mercury says, but her purple eyes seem a little guarded. “We like the way you fight, we like the way you don’t put up with anything, and we like you. It’s a simple as that. Friends help each other out, right?”
With that Azalea smiles and nods and Mercury smiles, too. “I think so,” Azalea says and Mercury smiles.
“So, let’s start construction on this bad boy,” Luc says. “When does the hardware store open? Nine?” He checks his watch. “It’s eight-thirty. By the time we get there it’ll be open, right?” He heads out the door. “Get changed, Azalea! We’ve got work to do!” Weiss and Orion follow him out, and Azalea and Mercury walk out together.
“Here, I’ll grab your clothes. And a pair of sneakers. We’ll be doing a lot of work today,” Mercury says. “Wait here!” In less than a minutes time she’s back again, holding out her clothes and a pair of new-looking sneakers. “Here. Come back down when you’ll done.” With that she leaves Azalea to her privacy on her balcony and she changes, and skips downstairs.

They come back to the theatre armed with wood, paint and everything needed to make Azalea’s space look nice and be safe. Luc works on making the structure strong, and Weiss works on lighting and the possibility for heat in the space. Azalea, Orion and Mercury go to work with the pillow covers and the curtains.
“Hey, when do we fight and stuff?” Azalea asks while they stitch. “I mean, besides that, what else do we do?”
“Well, you’re the newest member, so you don’t have to pull the dead man’s shift, which is exactly that. Anyone on our streets are automatically punished, if they’re doing something illegal, of course. We’re the nicer side of the ghetto, almost literally. Kreios and his gang don’t enforce their side as much as we do, and therefore we have more profit, because people are leaving their half and going to ours, which is another reason for the war. Also, we basically kill anyone for drugs, or violence, trying to create their own revolution to take us down,” Orion says as he stitches a side of a pillow. He finishes that side and closes it up, snipping the end of the cover and holding it up for inspection. “We don’t tolerate that kind of thing in our side.”
“Plus, we also collect money which is due to us. And we seek out any snitches,” Mercury says, embroidering a pillow with raspberry-colored hearts, the color of her new room.
“Snitches?” Azalea asks, working on the hem of her curtain, thick satin raspberry material. “Are they a what, or a who?”
“Technically, both,” Orion says absently. “The trade-offs. You know, money for an object, or possession, or person. We can usually stop them with our presence alone, and get both the money and the object or thing. We tend to free the person, and sell the object-”
“Unless it’s really shiny. Then we keep it,” Mercury says with a laugh, getting some more embroidery floss.
“Yeah, unless it’s like that,” Orion says. “But you don’t have to worry about the dead man’s shift.”
“Really? I want to pull my own weight…” Azalea says.
“It’s fine. Honestly, we’ll just give you more daytime patrol hours. But we don’t usually patrol as much during the day,” Orion says. “We prefer just to hang around and keep them away with our presence.”
“You can do that?” Azalea says with awe. “It sounds…unlike anyone here to scare someone with their everyday movements.”
“It’s possible. Trust me, dear,” Mercury says, hissing softly, baring her teeth. “Oh, yes, it’s possible.”
“The regular spots will be surprised to see that we have a new edition,” Orion says, moving to help Azalea with her curtains. “They’re used to just us.”
“What are the ‘regular spots’? And I’m coming with you?” Azalea asks, noticing with jealousy that Orion’s stitches are smaller and faster than hers.
“Yes!” Mercury says, looking up with a huge smile. “We go to the small park on our side a lot, and then, Strip Street, which has a ton of stores that I’m making you go in for clothes, and we go to the Smoothie Bar sometimes!”
“The smoothie bar?” Azalea says with one eyebrow raised. “You all enjoy a nice, refreshing smoothie?”
“No, not that kind of smoothie!” Mercury says, trilling a laugh. “It’s a club. We go a lot. It’s amazing there. You’ll love it. We can get you an ID, of course.” She looks at Azalea closely, her purple eyes thoughtful. “But I’m sure Billy would let you in, though, with the right clothes, of course. He loves a girl in red. Sauciest color, he says every night. And red would look good on you.”
“Sure. I didn’t bring red, though…could I borrow something, maybe? If we go, of course,” Azalea says, struggling with the hem. Mercury tosses a completed pillow aside and laughs.
“Sweetie, I don’t plan on you ever wearing the clothes you brought. Especially for your date!” She squeals, glancing at Orion for a millisecond. The corners of his mouth tighten slightly, and she smiles, knowing she got the reaction she wanted.
“Um, I think I can manage with my own clothes,” Azalea says timidly. “I don’t really need anything…”
“Nonsense. You’ll be wearing my clothes,” Mercury says firmly, and Orion laughs. “Hey! What are you laughing at!” She attacks him with a pillow, and he recoils.
“I’m not laughing!” Orion says, covering his face. “I just…remembered something.”
“Oh. In that case, get back to work! We want these done soon!” Mercury says, staring to embroider again. “And when will you two be done with that curtain? We don’t have all day, you know!” Azalea laughs, and sews again. Mercury looks up with a smile, her purple eyes full of mischief.
“Azalea, why don’t you take a break? Go take a shower, I’m sure you’re all sweaty from the walk to the store,” Mercury says. “We can work on this.”
“No, it’s for my room, anyway, I wouldn’t want to…” Mercury throws a pillow at her face.
“Go!” Mercury says, and Azalea sulkily gets up. “We will manage. Right, Orion?” She glares at him, and he smiles.
“Yes, of course. We’ll be fine, honest. Go take your shower,” Orion says, waving her away. “We’ll be fine.”
“Well, if you two are sure…” Azalea says.
“Go!” They both say with a laugh. “It’s alright, we’ll manage.” She smiles at them both and goes to her bag, taking out the bathroom things she brought from home and goes out the door.

“Wow! You guys are fast!” Azalea says, coming out into the main room clad only in a towel, her short hair still dripping wet. She looks over to the now-completed curtain and raises her eyebrows. “Do you have a sewing machine or something?”
“Nope! We just, got caught up and went faster, I guess,” Mercury says, coming over to Azalea. “Why are you in here, anyway? Come, I’ll get you something from my closet!”
“Well, I guess, if you really want me to,” Azalea says awkwardly, not sure how to respond to such an offer.
“Come on!” Mercury says, abandoning what she was working on. “Orion, you can finish it! I’m sure you’ll know what I’m trying to do!” They go out the room and Orion looks at the pillow she was embroidering. It’s a very particular flower, with a single petal starting to fall. It’s an azalea! Ah, mon ami, come, admit it! You like her! A whisper-like voice says in his head.
“Damn it, Luc, what’d I say about doing this!” He mutters under his breath. “Keep your powers to yourself!” Fine, fine, but I’m telling Weiss! “Do whatever the hell you want, Luc, just go away!” He hears soft laughter before hearing only the soft buzzing of the mechanical lighting and heat filling the room. Orion bends down and starts to work on the embroidery.

“Ooh! You finished it!” Mercury says, coming back in. Trailing her is Azalea, wearing a short red tube dress with black opaque tights and black leather boots. “We’re going out!”
“What? Then what about-” Orion begins.
“We’re save the finishing touches for tomorrow! And I’m sure the rest of us will have no problem staying up just a little bit later so we can help her out,” Mercury says meaningfully. “Won’t we, Orion? Now go get changed. Me and Azalea can work on this for a little more while the boys get ready. I’ve laid out your clothes, I’m sure you’ll know which ones they are.” Mercury dismisses her with a sultry wave of the hand and flounces away. Azalea smiles at Orion.
“She always gets what she wants, doesn’t she?” Azalea asks him, and he responds with a swift nod. “I see.”
“I like your outfit, Azalea. It’s really nice on you,” Orion says, eyes raking her body. “Very nice.” Before she even blushes he’s out of the room, and she swears she can hear shower water running before she even blinks in surprise.
“Come here, Azalea!” Mercury calls, already taking out various make-ups and things. “I’m going to make you gorgeous!”
“No! I don’t do that kind of stuff,” Azalea says, flopping on a bed. “I can’t wear that stuff, I always look hideous.”
“Nonsense,” Mercury says confidently. “Come here!”
“I don’t want to,” Azalea says, sticking her chin out. “I’m already wearing the clothes, so I’ll be fine.”
“Come on!” Mercury says. “Please?”
“Really. I don’t want to wear that. It’s superficial,” Azalea says. “I think everything with fashion is artificial and superficial, actually. Just like these clothes, and this jewelry, and everything.”
“Really? But the red and the black look so nice together, and the boots look hot on you! And so do the jelly bracelets and the chocker! They just go perfectly together,” Mercury says. “And so does my purple corset and my black mini with my lace-up stilettos! And my necklace and the thick silver cuffs!” She exclaims. “The corset matches my eyes perfectly and the rest accentuates it! And besides, things aren’t superficial as they seem. They can get you places, and take you to new heights!”
Azalea thinks about something for a second, and looks towards Mercury. “Hey, why are your eyes purple? It’s odd, don’t you think? And those black rims around your iris…they don’t seem natural. Are you wearing contacts?”
“Nope! I’m just special like that,” Mercury says, bouncing up and down. “Oh! And be prepared for a lot of looks and stares. I know you got one from Orion, but think of that, tripled. For each guy looking at you.”
“Really? A place called “The Smoothie Bar” doesn’t seem like many people would go to it,” Azalea says. “Yeah, now that I think about it, it doesn’t seem very likely.”
Mercury trills again. “Oh, that’s what you think. They redecorated, though, and also, now that we’ve been going there, it’s gotten very popular.”
“Ah, I see. And when will the boys be here?” Azalea says.
“Right after I get your make-up done!” Mercury says, coming towards Azalea.
“No! I don’t want it!” Azalea says. “Please, just don’t,” she says wearily. “I’ve been having this battle with my mother for my entire life, practically, and it just kills me. So, please, don’t even bother.”
Mercury sighs, throwing the tube of scarlet lipstick on the table with a thud. They hear the door click and see the boys file out, one by one. Luc wears a classic sapphire blue silk shirt, with the top button undone, and black pants with dress shoes. Weiss went casual, clad in a green tee shirt that was tight over his enormous chest, and acid washed jeans and sneakers.
Orion was all-out. He wore a black polo shirt with tears and chains, overtop a gray and black striped shirt with the elbows cut out, and fishnet fingerless gloves, and storm-gray jeans with frayed ends and more chains and holes, covering his black high-tops almost to the tips of the toes.
“Why am I wearing this, Mercury?” Orion says. “It looks…not like me.”
“Nonsense. You’re always sulking in you balcony. Now you’re just showing it,” Mercury says. “Now, come on! We might have to carry her…” She looks at Azalea and she smiles. “Yeah. It’ll cut time by a lot. When does the door close? Twelve? It’s ten-thirty now…it’ll take at least half an hour to walk normally.” She sneaks up behind Azalea and pushes her into Orion. She loses her balance with the tall heel of the boots and Orion easily catches her, holding her in a hug.
“Azalea, we all…learned this special trick to run fast, really fast. The only catch is that one of us has to carry you while we run. Mercury could carry you, or I could-” Orion says softly, looking her directly in the eyes. She feels sparks, and, feeling confused, she simply shrugs.
“You can, if you want, of course,” Azalea says to him, looking at his eyes. “You have that ring, too.”
“What ring?” He asks her.
“The ring around the iris of your eye. Mercury does, too. Do you all have that?” Azalea asks, squinting at Luc’s eyes. He nods and she smiles, turning back to him. “Well, okay then. Kind of weird, but whatever. It doesn’t really matter. Come on, carry me!”
He lifts her up easily, bridal style and he looks around. “Ready?” They nod and he takes off, the ride spinning to Azalea, who holds Orion’s neck tightly.
He runs too fast, it’s like a there’s nothing but air, and the dark buildings blend together to make a creamy black that makes it feel like they’re floating. Azalea twists around, not afraid, and she sees Mercury, Weiss and Luc running, too, though it seems like they’re merely floating, held up by nothingness, floating on nothingness.
Soon they hear distant music pumping, and she can feel them slow down, the creamy black turning into grinding music and pumping lights. She sees a long line of scantily clad women and handsome men, all dancing, talking, laughing. They reach the front of the line and see a tall man with brown hair and eyes regulating who went in the club, turning many people away, letting few in.
“Orion! Mercury! And who’s this?” The man says, friendly. A guy tries to sneak past him, but his head whips around, catching him by the long hair. “Oi! Out!” He throws the guy to the street. “Damn hippie,” he mutters, turning back to their group. He peers at Azalea and smiles.
“Billy, this is Azalea. Hands off, she has a date tomorrow!” Mercury says, excitedly. He sighs.
“She’s damn hot, especially in red. Sauciest color. Not literally, of course.” He laughs and waves them by. “She’ll be fine with you. Damn, girl, if you get tired of your date, come see me, I’ll treat you mighty fine.”
Azalea smiles prettily, surprised she has the courage to do so. “If you say so.” She walks in, and they can hear it’s a techno beat, something grinding and hard, meant to dance to.
“You want something to drink?” Mercury yells over the beat. “I can grab something, if you want.”
“No, I’m okay. So all you guys do is dance?” Azalea asks, turning around. Most people are dancing, but there are some booths in the sides and a bar.
“Yep! All the ladies will be disappointed that Orion already has a partner-they all want to dance with us!” Mercury says, taking Weiss by the hand. “Now come on!”
“Care to dance?” Orion says taking her hand softly.
“Sure. I’d love to,” Azalea says, looking into his eyes. His eyes take up a glint and he smiles, leading her out to the dance floor, simmering with a blue translucent beam of light underneath the floor, making it seems as though they’re dancing on water. The beat changes to something fast and she finds herself being led by Orion, and dancing besides them were Weiss and Mercury, and Luc and another girl, with dark skin and black hair. The rest of the dancers move out of the center of the room, as if in a ritual to clear a way for Azalea’s gang to dance in their own bubble of space.
They dance for three songs, each fast and electric. When the DJ puts on a slow song, they go over to the biggest booth in the club, in the back, where there’s a man with floppy brown hair and orange sunglasses being lavished by four women, all blond and all stunning.
“Hello,” Mercury says with a feral grin. “Care to leave?” The man lowers his orange-tinted sunglasses and looks at her pointedly.
“Excuse me? We were here. Now, ladies,” he says with a gold-toothed smile. “Come on, make me scream.”
“Excuse me. Do you know who we are?” Luc says, returning to the pack
“What did I say?” The guy says, standing up, much to the distress of the ladies. “I was here. Now go move your asses, you’re blocking the view for my girls.” He waves them off, and sits back down, and the two girls sitting next to him start kissing him again.
“I said, do you know who we are?” Luc says, leaning over. “We’re the people who can hunt you down. Real blood suckers when it comes to what we want, if you know what I’m saying,” Luc says menacingly, baring his teeth.
“Oh. Oh!” The man says, getting up. He smiles nervously at them, and moves out of the booth, his women following him like peculiar sheep, and he edges away from them. “So sorry to have interrupted your night, fellas. I didn’t realize! Please, don’t bother with me. I’m O positive, you wouldn’t like the taste of me…don’t! I won’t mess with your side, how about? I’ll move back to Kreios’s side! Yeah, that sounds like a good…” Orion raises an eyebrow at him, and he realizes it’s a dismissal. “…idea. Bye! Don’t snitch me out, man, it’s nothing important at all!” Weiss clears his throat, and he almost squeaks before running off, the blond girls following after him.
Orion motions for Azalea to slide in, and she obliges, Mercury and Weiss sliding in on the other side. Orion follows after her, and Luc slides in after Orion. Luc sighs. “What an annoyance,” he says. “Stupid hot shot. Think we should snitch him?”
“Definitely. I’ll go,” Weiss says, raising his hand. “He seemed fun to pick on.”
“I want to go, too!” Luc says excitedly. “I haven’t been for a while, and O positive…not too bad, common, but appetizing. I’ve been having A positive or lamb for a while, and I need something to spice it up. Maybe the O would do the trick…”
“Hey, you should try mixing the O positive with something a little more rare, like a B positive. I did that once, it tasted amazing!” Weiss says, leaning in to discuss.
“Really? I wouldn’t think…I like mixing the A positive with some tomcat, myself, you can taste the A but it has a sharp feral side, and it’s very tasty,” Mercury says, joining their conversation.
“What are they talking about?” Azalea whispers to Orion.
“Just recipes,” Orion mutters back to her. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” She shakes her head.
“I don’t drink alcohol,” Azalea says.
“This place is called the Smoothie Bar for a reason, Azalea,” Orion says with a small laugh. “They have the best smoothies, and some of them don’t even contain alcohol. Let me get you one.”
“Well…I’ll have to pay you back when we get home,” Azalea says. She was thirsty, and she hasn’t had a smoothie in a long time.
“If you insist,” Orion says. “But it’ll probably be on the house.”
“Really? Why?” Azalea says, confused.
“They know us,” he says simply before jumping over Luc and leaving, fighting the crowd to the bar. She sits back, watching the dancers. One of the dancers, a burly man, leeringly smiles at her, and she turns her face from him. He comes over, and leans on their table, and she can smell the alcohol from across the semi-circular booth.
“Hey, pretty lady,” he says with an air of confidence. “How ‘bout dancin’ with me?”
“Hey, how about no,” she says, looking around. “Where’s Orion? He should be here soon…”
“Forget this Orion kid,” he says. “Dance with a real man.”
“She doesn’t want to,” a familiar baritone voice says.
“Orion!” She says with relief.
“Wait, this is the Orion kid you’re talking about?” The man says with surprise. He squints in the dim light of the club and his eyes open wider. “So you’re one of them. So sorry, lady,” he stammers, and then with an awkward bow disappears back into the crowd. Orion shrugs and hands Azalea a glass with an orange-pink liquid inside. She takes a sip to find that it’s orange-banana flavored.
“This is good,” she says, taking another sip.
“I know. I feel bad about not feeding you more,” Orion says. “Maybe we could add on a kitchen, there’s some space in the main room…”
“It’s fine, honestly Orion, you’re spoiling me. Running away feels more different that it should,” Azalea says.
“Really? And what did you think it would feel like?” Orion asks her.
“I thought it would be more demanding, more about fighting to survive, and not partying, living someplace with beds. I thought roughing it would be interesting and exciting,” Azalea muses. “But I’m rather enjoying this new life.”
“Oh, really? Wait until you begin to fight,” Orion says. He cocks his head to the side and she takes another sip, drinking in the sweetness of the smoothie. “What was your old life like?”
“…It was bad. Very bad. At least to me, at least,” Azalea says. “They expected so much of me, and I never got anything in return. They wanted me to act perfect, or be perfect. Not on the inside, of course. They dismissed the perfect grades and honors and academic awards. All they really cared about was the outside. So shallow, so gone,” she says.
“And your brother? Oliver, was it?” Orion asks. She smiles.
“He’s the perfect brother, too good. The star of the basketball team, best friend. He treated everyone at school like they treated me: like a freak,” Azalea remembers. “He didn’t have many friends besides me, and I didn’t have any other friends besides him. We were a good team.”
“I see. But you miss him,” he says, more of a statement than a question.
“Of course. Like someone misses air,” Azalea says. “My one regret about leaving.”
“Ah,” he says, and they slip back into silence.
“Hey, what about you, Orion? What combinations do you like?” Weiss asks Orion. “I know you used to like the red wine and O negative combination, because you missed tasting wine so much. But what about now?”
“I still enjoy that. Mercury, how are you going to dress up Azalea?” Orion asks, quickly changing the subject.
“Tight jeans, of course. Can’t go skirt, that would seem too dressy,” Mercury says, quickly leaping to the topic. “But nice ones, with no holes or anything. I was thinking the ink-colored ones, the ones that are almost purple, because that would go with my scoop neck purple tunic sweater, the one with the bell sleeves…” Mercury pauses, considering. “Of course, the brown ones would look nice, because then I could put you in the butter-colored high-necked shirt with the big cuffs and the puffy brown vest, and the Uggs, but that seems like it’s too much.”
“Yes, definitely too much,” Luc says. “Go with the tunic. It’s thick enough that she would only have to wear a light sweatshirt, maybe the one with the black lace? That’s nice-looking and dressy enough…”
“Ah! I see! Luc, you’re a fashion expert,” Mercury says. “That would totally work. Azalea, what do you think?”
She shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter to me. I wasn’t really into that kind of thing back home. It’s-”
“-superficial. I get it.” Mercury nods, and Azalea stifles a yawn. “Time to go!”
“It’s only eleven something!” Weiss says. “Surely Azalea can manage for a little longer. Just for a couple songs.”
“No, we should be getting back,” Orion says, and Weiss sighs.
“If you insist,” Weiss says, and pushes out of the booth.
“I’m afraid I must insist, also,” Luc says. “I was almost done finishing the structure, and what with Weiss’s tools, I’m not sure how much longer it can take it. I was just about to replace the rotting wood with the metal bars we got…”
“Ah, I see,” Weiss says. “Come, my star.” Mercury gracefully gets up, and he puts her one his shoulder before heading towards the exit. Luc gets out of the booth, and then Orion and Azalea.
“Can you walk? Or do you want me to carry you?” Orion says with a smile. She smiles back, but shakes her head.
“I can manage. But you’ll have to carry me back home, right? Because of the trick you did…it was really cool,” Azalea says. “Like we were floating.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of like that,” Orion says with a flash of a smile. “Come on, let’s go.” He lifts her up again and he starts to speed off again, returning to the creamy black nowhere, Azalea’s eyes drifting shut.

“Azalea! We have something to show you!” Mercury chirps in Azalea’s ear. Azalea opens her eyes, slowly, sitting up in an odd position. She looks around and sees Orion’s face, very close to hers.
“Orion!” She says, bolting awake. She’s in his arms, laying down a bed. She sits up fully, and sees everyone grinning at the pair of them. “Why am I…sleeping next to you?”
“Well, you wouldn’t let go of my arm,” Orion says calmly, getting out of the bed now that she’s awake. “You fell asleep on the run back, and well…you found my arm oddly comforting.”
“Really?” Azalea says, getting out the bed, too, still wearing the red dress, though someone took off the boots and the jewelry she was wearing.
“Oui. You kept muttering something about how cool his arm was,” Luc says with a grin. “Were you warm in the club?”
“I guess,” Azalea mutters, heading towards the door. “Am I supposed to wear something of yours, Mercury?” Mercury squeals.
“Of course! Let me get something!” Mercury says, racing out the door. Azalea stands there in stocking feet for a few moments, until Mercury returns, handing Azalea a plain gray button-up long-sleeve shirt and jeans. “Here. It’s simple, but it will work until we get you ready for your date! It’s tonight! I’m so excited!”
“Isn’t Azalea the one supposed to be saying that?” Weiss says with a smirk. “Shouldn’t you seem more excited, Azalea?”
“I guess. I’ve just never been on a date before,” Azalea says with a shrug. “I don’t really know how to act.”
“Well, change! We’ve got something to show you! Boys, we’ll meet you there.” Mercury points out the door, and the file out, Orion flashing Azalea a brief smile before disappearing. Mercury smiles at Azalea, and Azalea raises her eyebrows. “So,” she says. “why aren’t you excited? First dates are important!”
“Really? Well, I guess they are…” Azalea says, taking off the dress, throwing it on the bed. “But I’ve only talked to this guy for a few minutes. I don’t know if this will turn out to be a disaster or if it will be fine. But,” she says, shrugging into the shirt, buttoning it up, “it’s always worth a shot, right?”
“Yeah, it is worth a shot!” Mercury says. “Hurry! We can’t keep the boys waiting all day!” Azalea quickly changes into the dark jeans and they go up the stairs, find not four, but five new polished doors. Mercury opens one of the doors and motions for Azalea to go in before her. She goes in, and sees a cloud of raspberry and hearts.
“Do you like it?” Weiss asks with a wide smile. “We finished last night!”
“Really? You must’ve stayed up so late…it’s perfect!” Azalea says with a smile, sitting with a laugh on her mushroom chair, a raspberry corduroy with a silk heart pillow on it. She hugs the pillow and smiles brightly, taking in the overall effect, which seems utterly girly. She notices a small bud vase wit ha pink rose just about to bloom. “So pretty,” she coos, petting the flower with a light finger. She spots a pillow on the floor and picks it up. “What…?” It’s an Azalea flower, perfectly depicted with one small petal breaking off and floating down. “It’s so detailed…did you buy this in the night?”
“Nope!” Mercury says brightly. “Orion sewed it! Isn’t it good?”
“Yeah, it is,” Azalea says. “Almost real.”
“Thank you,” Orion says. “I’m pretty good with my hands, I suppose.”
“Yeah, even with tough, manly hardware stuff!” Luc says with a chuckle. “He installed the carpet for us. Azalea rubs her toes through the soft shag carpet and smiles.
“Thank you guys, so much. It looks so nice!” Azalea says. “You guys worked really hard on it.” She laughs hollowly. “Now all I have to do is prove my worth!”
“I’m sure you’re worth it, my flower,” Orion says, looking her in the eyes. “I’m sure.” She smiles at him and he smiles, too. He breaks eye contact and looks around. “Now, for today, I think we should see about that rumor, the one about Ninth and Lace, the talk about the riot and the possibility of a revolution. Then we can get some food for Azalea, maybe hit a grocery store. After that-”
“We’ll be coming back so that Azalea can get ready, right?” Mercury says pointedly. “Because that will take some time. And where will we store these groceries? We don’t have a kitchen or anything.”
“Which is why when I had Luc run out for the carpet I had him buy a small closet, you should’ve spotted it in the corner of the main room,” Orion says. “We can use that as a pantry, but I think we should only get dry food or packaged things. Which is another order of business, the plans for a kitchen…”
“Wait. You all don’t need to eat?” Azalea says, getting up. “That’s crazy! Why don’t you need to?”
“It’s another special gift,” Luc says conversationally, leaning on the balcony ledge. “But you needn’t worry about us, we can take care of ourselves.”
“Well…it’s just odd,” Azalea says, getting up. “So, let’s get going! Where exactly is this Ninth and Lace?” They laugh, and go out the door, Weiss clicking it shut.
“Come on, it’s a ways away…” Orion says.