I grabbed the bag of art supplies and was about to walk out the door when I had a better idea. A few years ago Raquel had given me a pair of Rollerblades for Christmas. I wreaked such havoc zooming through the hallways and smashing into everyone and everything that she took them away. I did, however, have a rolling chair at the desk in my room. If riding that through the halls didn’t make me at least a little happier, I didn’t know what would.
I hooked the bag around the back of the chair and pushed it into the hall. Backing up a few feet, I got a running start and jumped on. It shot down the hall, veering to the left until I slammed into the wall. I took the long way, with very odd stares (and a few swear words if they had to dive away) from the people that I passed. In Lend’s hall I leaned so that the chair would roll into his room and made it halfway to the bed before tipping over. I looked up at his very surprised face. “Hey.” I giggled.
“Hey?” He raised one eyebrow. Dang that one eyebrow! Today he was wearing the dark-haired, dark-eyed hottie again. I liked that one.
“So.” I jumped up, straightening my dress. “You were right.”
“I was right?”
“Yup. IPCA has me right up there with faeries. All this time I thought I was part of the family; turns out I’m under observation. Awesome.”
“I’m sorry.” He sounded like he meant it.
“Yeah, well, I think they’re wrong. Because when I look at myself, all I see is me. Nothing else.” I had been thinking about it pretty obsessively and it made sense. If I were a paranormal, I’d see something.
“So you can see through other things? Not just me?”
I wasn’t supposed to talk about it, but I didn’t care. “Sorry, you’re not that special.” I grinned at him. “If it’s a paranormal, I can see what it is, no matter what’s on the top.”
“Wow. Nice trick.”
“Comes in handy. So, I brought you a present.” I handed him the bag. He looked inside and a smile spread across his face.
“Thanks! This is great.”
“I thought you could teach me a little bit. I’m not really great at figures.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve got a great figure.”
He was flirting with me! I laughed, blushing. “Dork.” He laughed back and sat on the edge of his bed, patting the space beside him. He spent the next hour explaining proportions and how to depict them. By the end of the hour I was still terrible but getting better. And having fun, too, which was nice.
“So, can you see through anything?” he asked, sketching me again.
I watched his hands, fascinated by the interplay between the hands he was showing me and his real hands underneath. “No. I can’t see through clothes or anything. Just glamour skin. Except I can see through all of you, since your clothes aren’t real.” I stopped, horrified. “I mean, I don’t look—It’s hard to see you, and I like looking at your real face, but I don’t try to see anything, because—Oh gosh, this sounds terrible.”
He had a funny look on his face, like he wasn’t sure what to think. “Huh. That’s never been an issue before. Maybe next time you could bring me some shorts.”
I nodded, still mortified. Desperate to change the subject, I said, “So what about you? Are you just, like, projecting things, or can you actually make your hair longer and stuff?”
He shimmered, a long-sleeved shirt replacing his short-sleeved one. He held out his arm and I hesitantly touched the fabric. It was tangible, but felt too smooth to be real. “Hair’s the same way.”
“That is so freaky.” I took the fake material between my fingers. “Can you feel this? Is it like part of you or something?”
He shook his head. “Not really. I have no idea how I do it or how it works.”
“Is that why you broke in? To find out what you are?”
He laughed. “No. I don’t care what I am according to IPCA.”
I frowned. “Yeah, me neither. Why did you sneak in?”
After a pause, he shook his head. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”
Much as I wanted to know, I realized it didn’t really matter. Neither of us were going anywhere.
“Sure.”
“How can you stand traveling that way here, though? When I took that woman’s hand, I had no idea what was going on. It was all I could do not to freak out.”
“Oh, yeah, the Faerie Paths. They suck. You didn’t know she was a faerie?”
“I don’t know much about faeries, really.”
“Lucky. You don’t want to.”
“Why? Seems pretty useful, being able to open doors to anywhere.”
“Oh, sure. Super useful. But then you have to deal with the faeries.” I got started talking and somehow ended up telling him all about faerie history. I wasn’t sure how many faeries IPCA controlled, but the ones we did have hated us for it. I’d also heard that there were different types of faeries, but as far as I could tell there was just the one—beautiful, powerful, and psychotic. I explained as much as I could about how they manipulated the natural world to some extent and traveled pathways between Earth and the Faerie Realms, but that was one area Raquel wouldn’t talk much about. She always acted like faeries were around just for transportation, but I suspected there was more to it. I finished by telling him about all the operatives that had been lost over the years by screwing up a command.
“Why does IPCA use them if they’re evil?” he asked, confused.
“They aren’t evil. They aren’t even really immoral, per se. They’re amoral. They don’t operate on the same level that we do. For a faerie, the only thing that matters is what they want. That’s their good. Anything else is superfluous. So like how they kidnap people, not a big deal—they want the person, they take him. Or killing someone. If you live forever, how much does one mortal life matter in the scheme of things? When you exist outside time, cutting off the forty years a person has left is a non-issue. They don’t even notice.”
“So you like faeries?”
“Oh, heavens no. I think working with them is the dumbest thing IPCA could possibly do.”
“Why do they keep using them, then?”
“The first named command every faerie gets is to serve IPCA. They think they can control the faeries—I know they can’t,” I muttered darkly. I looked down at his sketch. “Man, you are so good at that.”
“Nice subject. And I like your outfit.” I couldn’t tell from his smile whether he was serious or poking fun at me.
“I can bring you some boots like this along with the shorts, if you want.”
He laughed. “Just because I can look like a girl doesn’t mean I want to dress like one.”
“You’re right. You probably don’t have the calves for them, anyway.” Standing, I stretched. “I’d probably better go. Technically I don’t even know where they’re keeping you.” I winked at him.
“You should take these, then. You can practice.” He handed me the sketchbook and pencils. “You’ll come back, right?”
“Sure. You’re the coolest person here.” He started to smile, so I shook my head, putting on a mockserious face. “Don’t be flattered—most of your competition is undead.”
I sat down on my chair and rolled backward out of his room. He watched me, laughing silently, and
I gave him a jaunty salute. Back in my unit, I pulled out the sketchbook and looked at his drawings.