Chapter Thirty
~
The three of us rushed into the restaurant like we hadn’t eaten in hours. It had taken us a while to find a place that served troll and ogre fare. The food the professor’s wife had set out for us was okay, but a little bland, and in very modest proportions. They don’t know their ogres.
The professor was clearly on edge. Not because of Cordiz, back in her dark blazer and slacks, cannon bulgin’ under her left breast. We’d warned him she was comin’ with us. Assured us she was welcome.
The edge was entertainin’ giants. Clearly he and his mate had never done that in their lives. Worse, her hands shook a bit. Afraid? The conversation was stilted from the moment we entered their home. I figger I can speak for Cordiz and Hale, it was good to get out of there as fast as we could. And the two humans felt likewise.
Why’d the bull, man, invite us over?
Poor—man. He tried so hard to get Hale to talk about his art. What his thoughts were of studyin’ up here. Didn’t help the edge slicin’ the dinin’ room. Nor that we struggled to get our knees under their short little table. I felt for ’em, did what I could to ease the conversation, but I was only there as Hale’s baggage. They didn’t want to talk to me. Definitely didn’t want to draw Cordiz into any conversation.
And that sherry, after the missus cleared the table. Horrible. Ick. Don’t think they realized we’re only seventeen, either. Or maybe seventeen-year-old humans partake in eight hundred-proof after a bland meal, to make up for somethin’. Tasted better home-remedy for constipation.
Cordiz rushed a few crickets in her mouth, then laughed. I studied her, unsure where she was goin’, mentally. Hale didn’t look up from his five pounds of roast beef.
“That was so weird,” she finally said. “Not that it’s any of my business. Sorry. I’m out of line.”
“Like we’ve needed ya actin’ the bodyguard for us, up here. Far as I’m concerned, ya’re just a friend we’re lucky to have join us on this trip.”
“Ah. Ya’re so sweet,” Cordiz said. She looked across at Hale. I sensed she hoped he’d maybe agree with my sentiment.
I considered kickin’ him under the table, but he wouldn’t have a clue what was up. It’s more than a little sad in certain circumstances, that he’s so unaware.
He jerked his chin up, worked to focus on my eyes. Of course didn’t hold it. What was that? Had he—gotten into my mind? Is he a bit of a witch too? That made me grin. Was I surprised? No. He has always been good at readin’ my mood. But never came so blatantly close to admittin’ he got my thoughts as well.
No one spoke for a long moment, but Cordiz caught the vibe swooshin’ between us. She was twistin’ looks back and forth between Hale and me.
“What just occurred?” she asked.
“Nothin’,” I said.
“Dragon pooh,” Cordiz said. “I’m a well-trained observer. Clear as yar two tusks, ya have a thin’ between ya. A mental—connection. Don’t tell me there isn’t. Never come across it before, ever in my life, but not naive enough not to believe it exists.”
“Ya talk a lot,” Hale said.
Cordiz and I both laughed.
She shook her head. “Ya two can have a conversation without twitchin’ a tusk, can’t ya?”
“She’s the witch,” Hale said. “Not me.”
“Witch, huh?” Cordiz’ cheeks pinched. She cleared her throat. Yep. Ready for a new subject, the way her face changed. “Ya two aren’t really considerin’ goin’ to school up here? Livin’ among these pompous, prejudiced fools.”
“They just want to use Hale’s name,” I said.
He jerked a new look at me.
“What’s been sinkin’ in my head,” Cordiz said.
“Ya two are fools,” Hale said. “Like I’d bring any kind of distinction to ’em.”
Cordiz’ jaw sunk open. “Huh? Are ya kiddin’? Or stupid? Don’t have to be an art critic to know there isn’t a bigger name right now, unless ya’re studyin’ dead folk.”
A hitch from Hale clobbered me in the chest.
“They’d treat ya like an animal behind bars at the zoo, showin’ ya off,” Cordiz continued. “Don’t know nothin’ about our kind. Don’t wanta know nothin’ about us. Just use us as it fits their needs. Otherwise look down their noses. Look at our pet. We can make it bark if we want.”
~
Hale
~
Cordiz is definitely a fool. And I didn’t have to put up with her callin’ me stupid. I pushed my chair back a little harder than I intended and strode out of the restaurant. There was a curtain of blackness chasin’ me, like the dread I feel before an episode. I told myself over and over, no. No.
I wrapped my arms around my chest, rocked a bit, walkin’ into the dark. I just want to work my granite. Want the peace of my studio. Don’t need the pressure of some idjit talkin’ me up like I matter to anyone.
I don’t and I know it. I’m just a seventeen-year-old who can’t understand folk. Embarrass ’em. More than six or seven words strung together clot into nonsense. Can’t express myself. Hide in the imagery of my work.
I stumbled a bit traversin’ a ledge between the parkin’ lot and maybe a side street. Didn’t know where I was goin’. Didn’t care. Stared at the black of night leadin’ me away, toward nowhere.
Voices in my periphery teased me. Angry voices. A bit like that hen’s blather, ignert utterances meanin’ nothin’. I rocked a bit harder, wishin’ I could be like everyone else, unknown, common, not on the news, written about on the Internet as if I’m property, recognized everywhere I go in the Range.
I jerk. There’s more angry voices. Not the hen’s. No. No. Just leave me alone. Go away. Tried to pick up my pace, when suddenly a piercin’ pain pinched me in the middle of my back, a drum-like thunk, pulsin’ in the dark. I stopped and doubled over, and a new pain slammed my head to the right. I’ve sensed pain in my episodes before, but nebulous, cloud-like. Another, and another struck me.
I fell to the asphalt, cringed, as the onslaught continued, along with the angry voices. I worked to curl tighter, tighter. Forms clustered around me, almost hidin’ in the dark. Openin’ my eyes from a sharper pain catchin’ me in the forehead, I recognize a shoed foot pullin’ back, and inherently understood it prepared to kick me again, to match whatever continued to strike me in the back. Pullin’ my knees up tight. Curlin’ my arms in. Tried to draw my shoulders up. Don’t hurt my hands. Not my hands.
A series of snaps, and grunts replaced the angry voices.
Then silence.
“Slow breaths,” Bele said. “It’s over. Slow breaths. I’m here. I’m here for ya. Everythin’ will be okay.”
“His back is bleedin’, a lot,” the stinkin’ hen said. “Back of the head too. Need to get him to a doctor.”
Believe her hand pulled at my arm and I wrenched away from her.
“Actually,” Bele said, an odd hitch in her voice. “We got a couple humans here that need somethin’ more than a doctor. And these others, if they ever wake up, will never mess with a pair of giant hens again.”
I couldn’t stop my rockin’. Humans. What was Bele talkin’ about? That shoe. Humans wear shoes.
I’d been attacked? Why?
“Why would they do this?” Bele asked.
Her face was close to mine now. “Hale, sweetie. Can you get up? We need to get outa here.”
“We can’t just leave.” I didn’t want it to be Cordiz, but I knew it was her.
“Yes we can,” Bele hissed. “And we’re gonna. Hale. We’re gonna help ya up. Don’t fight us, please sweetie. We gota go.”
I just wanted ’em to leave me alone. But the asphalt was hurtin’ my knees, my forehead. Ow, I hurt. The pain in fifty places began to throb as I escaped—my episode. Stinkin’ episode. Why’d Mama ever start callin’ it that? Should be a better name. Include a few four-letter words. Or a harsh-soundin’ Trollish word. That would fit.
The hens were yankin’ at my arms pretty hard now.
Even in the dark I made out a length of pipe, and a couple scrap shunts of lumber. Fools had been wailin’ away on me. Stinkin’ humans. The hens had me to my knees now, but red and blue lights were lightin’ up the street.
Bele cursed. She’s not much for usin’ anythin’ stronger than pooh. Cordiz walked away from us, toward the approachin’ OM SUV. Good. Not human cops. Thin’s can always get worse. Headlights turned her into a silhouette, arms in the air. Jacket open wide.
“I’m so sorry, Hale,” Bele said, her forehead pressed against mine.
I know. But not yar fault.
“I should have shut her up. I saw she was upsettin’ ya. Sorry it took so long to catch up with ya. But it happened so fast. Like they were lookin’ for someone to beat up.”
“Hale? Son of Kriz?” a deep voice echoed. “No kiddin’?”
Another deep voice mumbled, “This crap’s gotta stop.”
I twisted to fall back on my stupid-ogre butt. Cordiz is right. I am stupid. I let a passel of little humans gang up on me, never fought back.
“Does he need an ambulance?” one of the troll cops asked.
I just need a fool layin’ a pipe to the back of my head more often. Like every time I allow a calamity of emotions to twist me into a tangle. An overwhelmin’ need to call Beky flowed over me. Not a text. I wanted to hear her voice. To get away from the vaporous troll hen who thinks I’m special because I’ve left chunks of granite strewn about the Range. Beky didn’t care about that.
Or if she does, it didn’t keep her from treatin’ me like I’m not special.
~
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