Post by Jude Dorrian on Apr 6, 2008 20:03:58 GMT
“You still sing, don’t you?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Why should I?”
“Jay.”
“What?”
“Why not, Jay?”
He groaned, and Dakota immediately drew back. So often, when they sat together, and she asked those questions, she felt like she was overstepping this invisible line that she wasn't allowed to cross anymore. However, his groan faded to a sigh, and Dakota felt herself relax slightly. He was going to answer her.
“I don’t like to sing,” he replied finally, “because it reminds me of him; of my… father.”
For a few seconds, Dakota let that information sink in before speaking again. “Jay?
He turned his head slightly, his slate blue eyes catching the light as he looked at her. For a second Dakota had to catch her breath. There they were; as clear a silver blue as ever- her sky. That’s how she would think of them. That’s how she always would. Her earliest memories of what the sky was like had gone now because when she first met Jay, she’d abandoned her vague recollection of it. It was all a blur. After all, she hadn’t seen the sky in so many years… But she’d always remembered the color.
The sky was blue.
When she finally left captivity, Dakota had been shocked by the garishly bright sky that she’d been presented with. It was a much… brighter, bluer blue; almost too bright. Not like his eyes. They were a pale, slate blue; flecked with gray. She’d come to recognize those flecks of gray and silver as clouds. Sometimes, Jay’s eyes would brighten, and it was like the sun was shining. And sometimes, they would darken until the gray flecks turned black, and Dakota would watch from behind bars as a storm raged in silence.
“Y’all don’t have to call me that anymore, you know.”
She lowered her head, her curtain of dark brown hair falling over her face; obscuring the sky from view.
“I know. I’m sorry… Jude.”
Jude.
Jude.
It suited him. It was good name; a perfect fit, just like it had been specially made for him. If you said it aloud, there was an edge to it, yet when you whispered it, it was such a soft, soothing noise- a hush.
She liked Jude. She really did.
But she loved Jaden.
Jay. Her Jay.
She remembered the first time they’d met so clearly. It’d been late, and dark, but then again, it was always dark. All of the children were sleeping together, like they usually did, a mound of bodies piled together and pressed together, draining each other of any drop of warmth they could spare.
Dakota… well, Mary, she supposed, because Dakota hadn’t existed then… But anyway, she hadn’t been able to sleep. She was hurting again. Giving up, with a sigh she'd moved to the edge of the cage, dangling her long, skinny legs over the edge as she clung to the bars, and searched for something to concentrate on, other than the pain in her left arm.
The thick bandage around it was awkward, and as far as Mary was concerned, it wasn't going to help fight off against infection like the nurse with the vapid smile had told her it would. Sighing, her small fingers had slipped beneath the material of the bandage, gingerly brushing against the deep gnash that was slowly stitching itself back together.
It was going to leave a scar, wasn’t it?
Then… she’d seen it. A flash of light blinded her, and with a slight yelp of fright, Mary had fallen backwards. Shakily cursing herself for it, Mary had gripped the bars again, using them to pull herself back upwards, to her feet.
And was blinded again.
The torchlight shone directly at her, traveling up and down her body. Horrified it was Caleb, coming for one of his rare night shifts, Mary scrambled backwards, but it was too late. He’d seen her. Gritting her teeth, and clenching her knuckles, Mary’s head bowed as submissively as she could bear to be.
But the gruff voice she’d been expecting didn’t come.
Instead… it was a new voice. A voice that came from nowhere.
A boy’s voice.
“Hello? Are y’all alright?”
Her head flew upwards, and her mouth fell open. For a few stupid seconds, Mary had thought she really was going mad. The torch was floating. Floating and… talking to her?
Timidly, Mary leaned forward, staring at it.
“Did… did you just talk?”
The laughter surprised her. He was laughing at her. Of course the torch wasn’t talking. That was crazy.
Mary, suddenly, felt herself smile weakly, as the solution in her mind fell into place. Torches didn’t float by themselves, nor did they talk. This… it must be magic. Someone here was using magic.
“Who’s out there?”
There was a quick pause, in which Mary held her breath. Eventually, a little warily, the boy’s voice answered her. “Me. Jaden.”
She gulped. Someone new. A stranger. “Who’s Jaden?”
“Me.”
Mary stared at the torch. “I… you mean… another Hoole kid?”
“A what?”
“Like me,” she gestured at herself. “And the others. A Caleb Hoole kid. Part of the drug trade. Yeah?”
“I… I suppose y’all could say that. Yeah.”
“Then run,” she said shortly. “Y’all gotta’ run, now, get out before you end up in here with me. Yeah?”
“What are you doing in here?”
She felt herself laugh too; but it wasn’t like his light, carefree laughter. Her laugh had a bitter edge to it. “I’m a Caleb Hoole kid. Someone he’s harvested from the streets; an orphan; someone no-one will miss. He takes my blood- our blood, and turns it into drugs. So, run, kid. Y’all don’t wanna be one of us.”
This pause was longer than the others. This pause was different. As Mary watched, the torch dropped, and disappeared out of sight altogether. Then, out of nowhere, the boy eased into view, fading in. Mary’s lips mouthed the words before he even said them.
“Invisibility.”
She nodded.
“He won’t catch me,” the boy- Jaden- said softly, leaning forward, his eyes wide with something… something strange. She couldn’t tell what, or why it made her gulp. “I won’t let him. He ain’t got no right to me. What’s your name?”
“M- Mary,” she stumbled over her words, now that the surprise of what was going on was beginning to hit home. “I- I- Jaden?”
“Yeah?”
“Who are you?”
He laughed again, and this time, her pulse quickened with it. “I’m Jaden- Jay, whatever you like.”
“But… what are you?”
“I think I’m a kid.”
“Not a dream?”
“Nope.”
“I’m not crazy?”
“Nope.”
“How can I be sure?”
Jaden moved forward slightly, and his hand stretched through the bars, a sharp shadow across her cage. Mary stared at the hand, its silhouette a clear, dark contrast against the dingy background.
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching for his, but all she could make out was shadow. Suddenly, the other hand came out towards her, so close, it scared her.
“Check.”
“W- what?”
He tilted his head to mirror hers. “You check. You’ll see. I’m real, Mary. And I’m here to help.”
She nodded, breathless, confused by this ghost, but she obeyed him. Her hands stretched out, and her palms pressed against his. Easily, his fingers closed across hers, and she was taken aback by the strength of them. The boy… he wasn’t much older than her, but his hands were strong, warm and wide. They were much bigger than her pale, bony fingers. The contrast between them shocked her. Her hands were withered. Her hands were cold. She’d been cold for so long, she’d forgotten…
The warmth of his hands; so much warmer than the pile of sleeping children behind her… it was something her imagination couldn’t imitate.
She’d never felt such warmth.
He was real.
This was the first time he held her hands.
Jaden, or ‘Jay’, as she came to know him, came the next night; and the next and the next. And suddenly, Mary had something that wasn’t Caleb Hoole- something completely new and fresh; something totally separate from this whole long life she'd led. Jay didn’t belong in her life; where she, and the other skeletons sat, day in, day out. That’s what made him so wonderful.
Mary had powers; magic, like Jay, but because it was taken from her on a weekly basis, she’d never been able to use her powers. That’s why Jay’s fascinated her so much. He’d found them because of them. It was easy, he said, because when he first went as a volunteer to give blood to Caleb Hoole, as he’d crossed the threshold, he’d heard the screams.
“The little kids always scream, because it’s so new to them. Sooner or later, y’all just stop crying. You don’t have the energy to cry anymore.”
He’d acted casual. He was a good actor, she learned. Anyone could be a good actor with enough practice. But he’d listened hard as he’d moved through the building; tripped up on purpose, and could sense the vibrations from his fall the whole way down to and around the room where they were kept with the aid of his metal powers. He'd worked out where they were, so that night, he’d come back to see what he would find.
He found them.
“You want rescue us?”
“I am going to rescue you.”
He always sounded so certain. And he was always bubbling with ideas. He’d jump down the darkened corridor (soon he stopped needing the torch) and squeeze through the bars of her cage (it was surprising what metal powers could really do for you) and he’d tell her his idea.
He had friends. Lots of them. Some of them had magic powers too. They could help.
“How are you going to get that many people in?”
He could call the police.
“Caleb would shoot us if he heard the sirens. Besides, he has alibis.”
He could put up ‘MISSING’ posters for some of the kids.
“Caleb would throw the kids back onto the street with a smashed in skull.”
He could get them weapons.
“They have weapons too.”
He could fight Caleb off himself.
“Jay, you’d get killed.”
“But if I took him down with me, it’d be worth it.”
She shook her hand fervently, her grip tightening on his hands. He probably didn’t even notice. God, she hated being so weak. She’d no fat; no muscle; she'd barely enough blood to keep her heart beating.
“If you died, Jay… then what would happen to me?”
He hadn’t looked at her. “You’d be alright.”
“You’re my best friend,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “But you’re crazy. If you died, none of us would have any hope left. You can’t do that to us, Jay.”
That’s what she had to say- “us”, for manner’s sake… even though she always secretly thought of him as hers.
All the other Hoole kids had learned about his existence, one after the other. All of them were his friend. All of them loved him. He came in, night after night, and entertained the little children; and joked with the big children. Even though he wasn’t so old- maybe 10, or 11- the teenagers respected him too. They listened to him, because he’d far more knowledge of the world outside than they did. Most of them had spent their lives in the cage like she had.
Jay… he was exotic.
Jay knew things. Jay had stories. Jay could tell them the colors of the world and the sky above. He could tell jokes. He could show them magic. Jay could tell them about his family- he had a real family; a sister, called Tameron. Imagine... a real family… later, when the other children slept, she’d asked him to tell her again; just to hear it again.
“What’s it like having a sister?”
“Annoying.”
She’d giggled slightly; still an unnatural sound, even though it had become more common these past few weeks. “You’ve no idea how lucky you are to be able to say that.”
Jay glanced back at the sleeping kids behind them. “No. No… I suppose I don’t.”
“Tell me about her, Jay. Just one more time. Please, I promise I won’t ask again.” Even though she knew she would.
“Just… what I’ve said,” sometimes he struggled a little to talk about her, “she’s just… you know, my sister; just this… little girl who I have to look after, because no-one else will. And she’s just so… small! She’s even little for a 6 year- oh no, she’s 7 now. It was her birthday the other week, and I made her a little crown, so we could pretend she was a princess for a day. Then, would y'all believe it, the little brat had me pick her up and pretend I was her horse. Then she spent the rest of the day ordering me about. I had to bow to her and call her, ‘Your Royal Highness’ because she wouldn’t respond to her own name- Mary, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she smiled at him through her stinging eyes. “Everything’s perfect. It’s perfect. She sounds lovely.”
“Mary, you’re crying.”
“I know.”
She wasn’t crying, actually. She was sobbing. She couldn’t stop shaking, and no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes, she couldn’t stop the tears coming. And she hadn’t cried in such a long time.
What was it about Jay that could make her cry so much?
He turned her into a human tap. It was ridiculous. Just that smile could do it. His eyes could do it. One mention of the word, “Tameron,” and she’d be balling. But it was a good kind of crying. The best kind.
And when her skin was ripped open; when the blood ran thick and fast and Caleb’s horrible breath was in her ear, whispering all those horrible, sick things, she closed her eyes, and played pretend.
It wasn’t Caleb who was holding her so tight her ribs were screaming in agony. It was Jay, clutching her close in a gentle, warm embrace.
It wasn’t Caleb viciously hissing at her all the nasty things he was going to do to her if she didn’t comply. It was Jay, whispering soft, lovely things about what they were going to do when they escaped.
And when the claws split her skin, and the scarlet oozed out, it wasn’t Caleb and his cronies sucking the magic out of her with their needles. It was Jay, bandaging her wounds.
And then he’d sing.
“What can you sing?”
“Lots. High and low. Soprano.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re a boy.”
“Boys are better sopranos than girls!” he’d cried indignantly. “Don’t y’all believe me?”
“It won’t matter. Your voice will break soon.”
He’d shuddered. “Won’t that be weird.”
“You’ll grow up.”
“We’ll grow up.”
“You’ll be a teenager. Will you still be in Texas?”
“Well it sure ain’t likely my dad will pay for me to go to school, is it?”
“Will you still come and visit?”
“Mary,” his hand touched her cheek. “Smile at me, Mary.”
She couldn’t.
“You’ll be free by then.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do, Mary. I promise you. I never break my promises.”
Foolishly, she’d looked up, and that long repressed quiver of hope shook through her. “Promise?”
He’d laughed. “I promise you all the promises there are.”
“That’s a lot.”
“I know.”
“Do you promise your voice will never break?”
He’d stopped, staring at her for a couple of seconds. “How’s this? I promise you all the promises within the realm of possibility. Better?”
“You’ll sound funny with a man’s voice.”
He grinned cheekily. “Maybe.”
“And will you still sing to me, Jay?”
He always sang to her. It helped her. She didn’t know any songs; and every time he opened his mouth, a new one came spilling forth. One day, he’d told her that he would dedicate a song to her, since his dad had made up one about his mom, Delilah.
“You do that for people you love. Except all I can think of is, ‘Mary, Mary, quite contrary’.”
She shuddered. “Jay, don’t call me that. I hate Mary. It’s a God-awful name; one Caleb named me. Call me… something else. Anything else.”
So he’d sung for her. And she’d picked her new name; Dakota, from the songs. God, there’d been some funny options…
“Sweeeeeeet Caroline, good times never felt so good…”
“Laura, why don’t you give me your love…?”
“Lucy in the sky with diamonds-”
But then…
Then he’d sung something completely different.
“Thinking bout thinking of you…”
One line did it.
That one line set off this mad reaction in her; something that had her whole frame shaking like crazy.
“What name’s that?”
“I guess it ain’t a name,” he shrugged. “But it can be. Dakota.”
“Dakota,” she said it softly; then again, more definitely. “Dakota.”
“I like Dakota.”
“I like Dakota,” she’d smiled. “I really do.”
Why had that song provoked such a reaction in her? She hadn’t understood at the time; still only really vaguely could. It was just... such a normal song. It wasn’t all big and soulful or soft and sweet. It was so… simple. Just some guy singing about some girl, and their memories.
But she quaked with jealousy at those memories.
Lying in the grass; watching the sky- see these things? They were special things. They were the things she wanted. They were the things she was going to get when she escaped. Jay had promised her; and because of him, her heart was swelling over with a new emotion she’d never felt before. They’d be okay. They’d be free. One day, she’d see him standing in the sunshine. One day-
She’d gone past family. She couldn’t replace Tameron. She couldn’t have him for a brother; because she wouldn’t let herself break that kind of bond. It wasn’t her place.
Jay was something else. Like a friend, but better. So, so much better. Soon, she stopped sleeping; because when he wasn’t there, and she was meant to be sleeping, she couldn’t because she wanted him to come back. She began to think about those stories he told the little kids- about Snow White, about Rapunzel and about Sleeping Beauty. All of those girls whose handsome princes came to save them.
But Jay wasn't just a fairytale- he was real. He was going to save her. He told her so.
So she saw it like her own magical picture book, and her new name made her feel special. Dakota. Princess Dakota. Beautiful Dakota. Exotic Dakota. She was the poor girl, who'd been locked away in a cage by a wicked old man. But Prince Jaden had found her. He’d come to her, and fallen in love with her, and now, he was going to save her.
She couldn’t wait to be saved.
No wonder it hurt so much when he stopped coming.
Dakota had waited. And waited. And waited some more. Even after all the other children had given up, and gone to sleep, she’d stayed awake; her wide brown eyes black glints in the shadows. She’d stayed awake for so long when she finally did drift off, she hated herself for it. What if she’d missed him? So she’d tried again to stay awake. He’d come. He’d come.
Besides, she told herself foolishly, she didn’t need to sleep anymore anyway. He was her dreams.
But soon, she’d started trembling with fatigue. Her lips were chewed to bits, her nails too. Her wretched limbs suddenly seemed grotesque; ugly, pale and unnatural- so much so she laughed at the idea she'd ever considered it possible for her to be pretty. When she moved even slightly, she felt weak; and colder than ever; like the slightest knock would shatter her. Her heart deflated. Her reborn giggle curled back into the darkness it had stayed in for so long. Princess Dakota waited; but she didn’t have the patience of Sleeping Beauty.
She couldn’t sleep forever.
And Dakota’s secret dream died.
Suddenly, it was just like before. Like he’d never been. Suddenly, kids were dying again, and suddenly, kids were crying again. They’d got nothing to carry on for, after all. Why live in hope when life had none?
Jay was gone.
She’d never moved on, she guessed. She tried to hate him, but couldn’t. To be honest, she couldn’t feel anything much. When she finally was freed, because her freedom hadn’t come from her hero, it felt empty. It wasn’t like it was meant to be. Then suddenly, she had that family she’d always wanted. God, how she’d loved them- did love them; her mother and her father and her new step-brothers and sisters. All kids like her; kids who’d lived in the hope of a family all their lives. And her powers! They’d been a shock. She hadn’t meant to electrocute that tree. She really hadn’t.
But no matter how her life had moved on and changed; she couldn’t forget him. Her scars were still there; ugly, jagged, raw and red. That’s why she’d come to Orchid Hill. If she could get rid of them, she could get rid of him.
Then she’d be okay.
Everything is gonna be alright.
Until Jay appeared again. There he was, out of smoke; this torturous reminder of those half-buried dreams. But now... he was different; a brand new guy. His voice had finally broken, but she’d been wrong- it wasn’t weird, exactly, because it was still his. It was still soft; and still had this wonderful soothing quality. And Tameron wasn’t a mystery anymore. Tameron was there, with him.
Just like she used to imagine they were.
And Jay- Jude- had this whole life here, one that Dakota saw and knew that all she had to do was say a word and she'd be welcomed with open arms. She would’ve been his friend again.
She still was his friend, wasn’t she?
But Dakota had never wanted to just be his friend.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Dakota,” he said softly.
“It’s hard to get used to,” she smiled awkwardly. “Really hard. I dunno… Jay… Jude… it’s all kind of… blurred.”
He laughed. “Jude’s my real name.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He paused, considering it carefully. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess I was just scared if I did, I’d get found out, and something would happen to Tameron or my dad.”
“You could trust me.”
“But I couldn’t trust Caleb,” Jude said firmly, looking at her. “Dakota… look, are you sure about this?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. I am. I think… I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
Finally.
The train was coming, puffing into view. It panted, and wheezed; looking and sounding old beyond its years, and its noise filled Dakota with a strange… finality. Something was closing inside her; something that should have closed long ago.
She stood up, and he leaped to his feet.
“Dakota, I don’t get it,” he said, turning to her; and in her sky, she saw a cloudy forecast. “Y’all can’t leave. Please don’t leave, Dakota; we’ve only just found each other.”
“But we can write.”
“You’ve got no reason to leave. The Carers here, they’re amazing, they can still find away to heal your scars-”
“And Nurse Gornray will contact me if they do.”
“Dakota, come on,” his hands clutched hers; like they had so many times before. The familiar thrill of it shocked her.
Her hands were still colder than his.
Each familiar groove was that little bit deeper. His palm was a little rougher. A couple of new calluses decorated his fingers. She wondered how he’d got them. He used to tell her all his stories. Now she didn’t hear any.
“Please stay.”
Her eyes forced themselves to watch the encroaching train. “Do you really love her, Jude?”
His hands dropped hers like she’d electrocuted him. “What?”
“Ailith,” Dakota said smoothly, “do you really love her?”
“Of course I do,” he laughed uncertainly. “I love Ailith. What’s this got to do with anything?”
“Does she make you happy?”
“Dakota, what’s wrong? Why are you asking me all this?”
“It’s okay, Jude,” she murmured, picking up her bags as the train rumbled to a stop. “Really. You’re happy. I’m happy. Everything’s gonna’ be alright. That’s what you used to sing, isn’t it?”
As, she spoke, she moved, turning quickly and pushing forwards towards the train. Even now, part of her yearned for those hands to take hers and turn her around, and then he’d say… something lovely.
He was so good at being lovely.
But nothing happened. She was leaning out the windows and staring at him, but he wasn’t doing anything; just watching her; his hand held up in a silent goodbye.
Then… he smiled.
And Dakota felt herself begin to cry.
He was still smiling. Perhaps he couldn’t see the tears. He was shouting too; something about keeping in touch. She was to write to him. She could do that. She nodded, and tried to smile too, but the train was moving. Rushing away. This was it.
This was meant to be it.
He grew smaller, smaller than the boy he’d been; and smaller still, ‘til he was just one, solitary pinprick waving to her. Then nothing. Just nothing. Dakota slid down the side of her seat, the tears still falling thick and fast. She didn’t even have the energy to try and stop them.
The sun had set, and her sky had faded. Now, it was nothing but blackness.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Why should I?”
“Jay.”
“What?”
“Why not, Jay?”
He groaned, and Dakota immediately drew back. So often, when they sat together, and she asked those questions, she felt like she was overstepping this invisible line that she wasn't allowed to cross anymore. However, his groan faded to a sigh, and Dakota felt herself relax slightly. He was going to answer her.
“I don’t like to sing,” he replied finally, “because it reminds me of him; of my… father.”
For a few seconds, Dakota let that information sink in before speaking again. “Jay?
He turned his head slightly, his slate blue eyes catching the light as he looked at her. For a second Dakota had to catch her breath. There they were; as clear a silver blue as ever- her sky. That’s how she would think of them. That’s how she always would. Her earliest memories of what the sky was like had gone now because when she first met Jay, she’d abandoned her vague recollection of it. It was all a blur. After all, she hadn’t seen the sky in so many years… But she’d always remembered the color.
The sky was blue.
When she finally left captivity, Dakota had been shocked by the garishly bright sky that she’d been presented with. It was a much… brighter, bluer blue; almost too bright. Not like his eyes. They were a pale, slate blue; flecked with gray. She’d come to recognize those flecks of gray and silver as clouds. Sometimes, Jay’s eyes would brighten, and it was like the sun was shining. And sometimes, they would darken until the gray flecks turned black, and Dakota would watch from behind bars as a storm raged in silence.
“Y’all don’t have to call me that anymore, you know.”
She lowered her head, her curtain of dark brown hair falling over her face; obscuring the sky from view.
“I know. I’m sorry… Jude.”
Jude.
Jude.
It suited him. It was good name; a perfect fit, just like it had been specially made for him. If you said it aloud, there was an edge to it, yet when you whispered it, it was such a soft, soothing noise- a hush.
She liked Jude. She really did.
But she loved Jaden.
Jay. Her Jay.
She remembered the first time they’d met so clearly. It’d been late, and dark, but then again, it was always dark. All of the children were sleeping together, like they usually did, a mound of bodies piled together and pressed together, draining each other of any drop of warmth they could spare.
Dakota… well, Mary, she supposed, because Dakota hadn’t existed then… But anyway, she hadn’t been able to sleep. She was hurting again. Giving up, with a sigh she'd moved to the edge of the cage, dangling her long, skinny legs over the edge as she clung to the bars, and searched for something to concentrate on, other than the pain in her left arm.
The thick bandage around it was awkward, and as far as Mary was concerned, it wasn't going to help fight off against infection like the nurse with the vapid smile had told her it would. Sighing, her small fingers had slipped beneath the material of the bandage, gingerly brushing against the deep gnash that was slowly stitching itself back together.
It was going to leave a scar, wasn’t it?
Then… she’d seen it. A flash of light blinded her, and with a slight yelp of fright, Mary had fallen backwards. Shakily cursing herself for it, Mary had gripped the bars again, using them to pull herself back upwards, to her feet.
And was blinded again.
The torchlight shone directly at her, traveling up and down her body. Horrified it was Caleb, coming for one of his rare night shifts, Mary scrambled backwards, but it was too late. He’d seen her. Gritting her teeth, and clenching her knuckles, Mary’s head bowed as submissively as she could bear to be.
But the gruff voice she’d been expecting didn’t come.
Instead… it was a new voice. A voice that came from nowhere.
A boy’s voice.
“Hello? Are y’all alright?”
Her head flew upwards, and her mouth fell open. For a few stupid seconds, Mary had thought she really was going mad. The torch was floating. Floating and… talking to her?
Timidly, Mary leaned forward, staring at it.
“Did… did you just talk?”
The laughter surprised her. He was laughing at her. Of course the torch wasn’t talking. That was crazy.
Mary, suddenly, felt herself smile weakly, as the solution in her mind fell into place. Torches didn’t float by themselves, nor did they talk. This… it must be magic. Someone here was using magic.
“Who’s out there?”
There was a quick pause, in which Mary held her breath. Eventually, a little warily, the boy’s voice answered her. “Me. Jaden.”
She gulped. Someone new. A stranger. “Who’s Jaden?”
“Me.”
Mary stared at the torch. “I… you mean… another Hoole kid?”
“A what?”
“Like me,” she gestured at herself. “And the others. A Caleb Hoole kid. Part of the drug trade. Yeah?”
“I… I suppose y’all could say that. Yeah.”
“Then run,” she said shortly. “Y’all gotta’ run, now, get out before you end up in here with me. Yeah?”
“What are you doing in here?”
She felt herself laugh too; but it wasn’t like his light, carefree laughter. Her laugh had a bitter edge to it. “I’m a Caleb Hoole kid. Someone he’s harvested from the streets; an orphan; someone no-one will miss. He takes my blood- our blood, and turns it into drugs. So, run, kid. Y’all don’t wanna be one of us.”
This pause was longer than the others. This pause was different. As Mary watched, the torch dropped, and disappeared out of sight altogether. Then, out of nowhere, the boy eased into view, fading in. Mary’s lips mouthed the words before he even said them.
“Invisibility.”
She nodded.
“He won’t catch me,” the boy- Jaden- said softly, leaning forward, his eyes wide with something… something strange. She couldn’t tell what, or why it made her gulp. “I won’t let him. He ain’t got no right to me. What’s your name?”
“M- Mary,” she stumbled over her words, now that the surprise of what was going on was beginning to hit home. “I- I- Jaden?”
“Yeah?”
“Who are you?”
He laughed again, and this time, her pulse quickened with it. “I’m Jaden- Jay, whatever you like.”
“But… what are you?”
“I think I’m a kid.”
“Not a dream?”
“Nope.”
“I’m not crazy?”
“Nope.”
“How can I be sure?”
Jaden moved forward slightly, and his hand stretched through the bars, a sharp shadow across her cage. Mary stared at the hand, its silhouette a clear, dark contrast against the dingy background.
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching for his, but all she could make out was shadow. Suddenly, the other hand came out towards her, so close, it scared her.
“Check.”
“W- what?”
He tilted his head to mirror hers. “You check. You’ll see. I’m real, Mary. And I’m here to help.”
She nodded, breathless, confused by this ghost, but she obeyed him. Her hands stretched out, and her palms pressed against his. Easily, his fingers closed across hers, and she was taken aback by the strength of them. The boy… he wasn’t much older than her, but his hands were strong, warm and wide. They were much bigger than her pale, bony fingers. The contrast between them shocked her. Her hands were withered. Her hands were cold. She’d been cold for so long, she’d forgotten…
The warmth of his hands; so much warmer than the pile of sleeping children behind her… it was something her imagination couldn’t imitate.
She’d never felt such warmth.
He was real.
This was the first time he held her hands.
Jaden, or ‘Jay’, as she came to know him, came the next night; and the next and the next. And suddenly, Mary had something that wasn’t Caleb Hoole- something completely new and fresh; something totally separate from this whole long life she'd led. Jay didn’t belong in her life; where she, and the other skeletons sat, day in, day out. That’s what made him so wonderful.
Mary had powers; magic, like Jay, but because it was taken from her on a weekly basis, she’d never been able to use her powers. That’s why Jay’s fascinated her so much. He’d found them because of them. It was easy, he said, because when he first went as a volunteer to give blood to Caleb Hoole, as he’d crossed the threshold, he’d heard the screams.
“The little kids always scream, because it’s so new to them. Sooner or later, y’all just stop crying. You don’t have the energy to cry anymore.”
He’d acted casual. He was a good actor, she learned. Anyone could be a good actor with enough practice. But he’d listened hard as he’d moved through the building; tripped up on purpose, and could sense the vibrations from his fall the whole way down to and around the room where they were kept with the aid of his metal powers. He'd worked out where they were, so that night, he’d come back to see what he would find.
He found them.
“You want rescue us?”
“I am going to rescue you.”
He always sounded so certain. And he was always bubbling with ideas. He’d jump down the darkened corridor (soon he stopped needing the torch) and squeeze through the bars of her cage (it was surprising what metal powers could really do for you) and he’d tell her his idea.
He had friends. Lots of them. Some of them had magic powers too. They could help.
“How are you going to get that many people in?”
He could call the police.
“Caleb would shoot us if he heard the sirens. Besides, he has alibis.”
He could put up ‘MISSING’ posters for some of the kids.
“Caleb would throw the kids back onto the street with a smashed in skull.”
He could get them weapons.
“They have weapons too.”
He could fight Caleb off himself.
“Jay, you’d get killed.”
“But if I took him down with me, it’d be worth it.”
She shook her hand fervently, her grip tightening on his hands. He probably didn’t even notice. God, she hated being so weak. She’d no fat; no muscle; she'd barely enough blood to keep her heart beating.
“If you died, Jay… then what would happen to me?”
He hadn’t looked at her. “You’d be alright.”
“You’re my best friend,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “But you’re crazy. If you died, none of us would have any hope left. You can’t do that to us, Jay.”
That’s what she had to say- “us”, for manner’s sake… even though she always secretly thought of him as hers.
All the other Hoole kids had learned about his existence, one after the other. All of them were his friend. All of them loved him. He came in, night after night, and entertained the little children; and joked with the big children. Even though he wasn’t so old- maybe 10, or 11- the teenagers respected him too. They listened to him, because he’d far more knowledge of the world outside than they did. Most of them had spent their lives in the cage like she had.
Jay… he was exotic.
Jay knew things. Jay had stories. Jay could tell them the colors of the world and the sky above. He could tell jokes. He could show them magic. Jay could tell them about his family- he had a real family; a sister, called Tameron. Imagine... a real family… later, when the other children slept, she’d asked him to tell her again; just to hear it again.
“What’s it like having a sister?”
“Annoying.”
She’d giggled slightly; still an unnatural sound, even though it had become more common these past few weeks. “You’ve no idea how lucky you are to be able to say that.”
Jay glanced back at the sleeping kids behind them. “No. No… I suppose I don’t.”
“Tell me about her, Jay. Just one more time. Please, I promise I won’t ask again.” Even though she knew she would.
“Just… what I’ve said,” sometimes he struggled a little to talk about her, “she’s just… you know, my sister; just this… little girl who I have to look after, because no-one else will. And she’s just so… small! She’s even little for a 6 year- oh no, she’s 7 now. It was her birthday the other week, and I made her a little crown, so we could pretend she was a princess for a day. Then, would y'all believe it, the little brat had me pick her up and pretend I was her horse. Then she spent the rest of the day ordering me about. I had to bow to her and call her, ‘Your Royal Highness’ because she wouldn’t respond to her own name- Mary, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she smiled at him through her stinging eyes. “Everything’s perfect. It’s perfect. She sounds lovely.”
“Mary, you’re crying.”
“I know.”
She wasn’t crying, actually. She was sobbing. She couldn’t stop shaking, and no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes, she couldn’t stop the tears coming. And she hadn’t cried in such a long time.
What was it about Jay that could make her cry so much?
He turned her into a human tap. It was ridiculous. Just that smile could do it. His eyes could do it. One mention of the word, “Tameron,” and she’d be balling. But it was a good kind of crying. The best kind.
And when her skin was ripped open; when the blood ran thick and fast and Caleb’s horrible breath was in her ear, whispering all those horrible, sick things, she closed her eyes, and played pretend.
It wasn’t Caleb who was holding her so tight her ribs were screaming in agony. It was Jay, clutching her close in a gentle, warm embrace.
It wasn’t Caleb viciously hissing at her all the nasty things he was going to do to her if she didn’t comply. It was Jay, whispering soft, lovely things about what they were going to do when they escaped.
And when the claws split her skin, and the scarlet oozed out, it wasn’t Caleb and his cronies sucking the magic out of her with their needles. It was Jay, bandaging her wounds.
And then he’d sing.
“What can you sing?”
“Lots. High and low. Soprano.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re a boy.”
“Boys are better sopranos than girls!” he’d cried indignantly. “Don’t y’all believe me?”
“It won’t matter. Your voice will break soon.”
He’d shuddered. “Won’t that be weird.”
“You’ll grow up.”
“We’ll grow up.”
“You’ll be a teenager. Will you still be in Texas?”
“Well it sure ain’t likely my dad will pay for me to go to school, is it?”
“Will you still come and visit?”
“Mary,” his hand touched her cheek. “Smile at me, Mary.”
She couldn’t.
“You’ll be free by then.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do, Mary. I promise you. I never break my promises.”
Foolishly, she’d looked up, and that long repressed quiver of hope shook through her. “Promise?”
He’d laughed. “I promise you all the promises there are.”
“That’s a lot.”
“I know.”
“Do you promise your voice will never break?”
He’d stopped, staring at her for a couple of seconds. “How’s this? I promise you all the promises within the realm of possibility. Better?”
“You’ll sound funny with a man’s voice.”
He grinned cheekily. “Maybe.”
“And will you still sing to me, Jay?”
He always sang to her. It helped her. She didn’t know any songs; and every time he opened his mouth, a new one came spilling forth. One day, he’d told her that he would dedicate a song to her, since his dad had made up one about his mom, Delilah.
“You do that for people you love. Except all I can think of is, ‘Mary, Mary, quite contrary’.”
She shuddered. “Jay, don’t call me that. I hate Mary. It’s a God-awful name; one Caleb named me. Call me… something else. Anything else.”
So he’d sung for her. And she’d picked her new name; Dakota, from the songs. God, there’d been some funny options…
“Sweeeeeeet Caroline, good times never felt so good…”
“Laura, why don’t you give me your love…?”
“Lucy in the sky with diamonds-”
But then…
Then he’d sung something completely different.
“Thinking bout thinking of you…”
One line did it.
That one line set off this mad reaction in her; something that had her whole frame shaking like crazy.
“What name’s that?”
“I guess it ain’t a name,” he shrugged. “But it can be. Dakota.”
“Dakota,” she said it softly; then again, more definitely. “Dakota.”
“I like Dakota.”
“I like Dakota,” she’d smiled. “I really do.”
Why had that song provoked such a reaction in her? She hadn’t understood at the time; still only really vaguely could. It was just... such a normal song. It wasn’t all big and soulful or soft and sweet. It was so… simple. Just some guy singing about some girl, and their memories.
But she quaked with jealousy at those memories.
Lying in the grass; watching the sky- see these things? They were special things. They were the things she wanted. They were the things she was going to get when she escaped. Jay had promised her; and because of him, her heart was swelling over with a new emotion she’d never felt before. They’d be okay. They’d be free. One day, she’d see him standing in the sunshine. One day-
She’d gone past family. She couldn’t replace Tameron. She couldn’t have him for a brother; because she wouldn’t let herself break that kind of bond. It wasn’t her place.
Jay was something else. Like a friend, but better. So, so much better. Soon, she stopped sleeping; because when he wasn’t there, and she was meant to be sleeping, she couldn’t because she wanted him to come back. She began to think about those stories he told the little kids- about Snow White, about Rapunzel and about Sleeping Beauty. All of those girls whose handsome princes came to save them.
But Jay wasn't just a fairytale- he was real. He was going to save her. He told her so.
So she saw it like her own magical picture book, and her new name made her feel special. Dakota. Princess Dakota. Beautiful Dakota. Exotic Dakota. She was the poor girl, who'd been locked away in a cage by a wicked old man. But Prince Jaden had found her. He’d come to her, and fallen in love with her, and now, he was going to save her.
She couldn’t wait to be saved.
No wonder it hurt so much when he stopped coming.
Dakota had waited. And waited. And waited some more. Even after all the other children had given up, and gone to sleep, she’d stayed awake; her wide brown eyes black glints in the shadows. She’d stayed awake for so long when she finally did drift off, she hated herself for it. What if she’d missed him? So she’d tried again to stay awake. He’d come. He’d come.
Besides, she told herself foolishly, she didn’t need to sleep anymore anyway. He was her dreams.
But soon, she’d started trembling with fatigue. Her lips were chewed to bits, her nails too. Her wretched limbs suddenly seemed grotesque; ugly, pale and unnatural- so much so she laughed at the idea she'd ever considered it possible for her to be pretty. When she moved even slightly, she felt weak; and colder than ever; like the slightest knock would shatter her. Her heart deflated. Her reborn giggle curled back into the darkness it had stayed in for so long. Princess Dakota waited; but she didn’t have the patience of Sleeping Beauty.
She couldn’t sleep forever.
And Dakota’s secret dream died.
Suddenly, it was just like before. Like he’d never been. Suddenly, kids were dying again, and suddenly, kids were crying again. They’d got nothing to carry on for, after all. Why live in hope when life had none?
Jay was gone.
She’d never moved on, she guessed. She tried to hate him, but couldn’t. To be honest, she couldn’t feel anything much. When she finally was freed, because her freedom hadn’t come from her hero, it felt empty. It wasn’t like it was meant to be. Then suddenly, she had that family she’d always wanted. God, how she’d loved them- did love them; her mother and her father and her new step-brothers and sisters. All kids like her; kids who’d lived in the hope of a family all their lives. And her powers! They’d been a shock. She hadn’t meant to electrocute that tree. She really hadn’t.
But no matter how her life had moved on and changed; she couldn’t forget him. Her scars were still there; ugly, jagged, raw and red. That’s why she’d come to Orchid Hill. If she could get rid of them, she could get rid of him.
Then she’d be okay.
Everything is gonna be alright.
Until Jay appeared again. There he was, out of smoke; this torturous reminder of those half-buried dreams. But now... he was different; a brand new guy. His voice had finally broken, but she’d been wrong- it wasn’t weird, exactly, because it was still his. It was still soft; and still had this wonderful soothing quality. And Tameron wasn’t a mystery anymore. Tameron was there, with him.
Just like she used to imagine they were.
And Jay- Jude- had this whole life here, one that Dakota saw and knew that all she had to do was say a word and she'd be welcomed with open arms. She would’ve been his friend again.
She still was his friend, wasn’t she?
But Dakota had never wanted to just be his friend.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Dakota,” he said softly.
“It’s hard to get used to,” she smiled awkwardly. “Really hard. I dunno… Jay… Jude… it’s all kind of… blurred.”
He laughed. “Jude’s my real name.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He paused, considering it carefully. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess I was just scared if I did, I’d get found out, and something would happen to Tameron or my dad.”
“You could trust me.”
“But I couldn’t trust Caleb,” Jude said firmly, looking at her. “Dakota… look, are you sure about this?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. I am. I think… I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
Finally.
The train was coming, puffing into view. It panted, and wheezed; looking and sounding old beyond its years, and its noise filled Dakota with a strange… finality. Something was closing inside her; something that should have closed long ago.
She stood up, and he leaped to his feet.
“Dakota, I don’t get it,” he said, turning to her; and in her sky, she saw a cloudy forecast. “Y’all can’t leave. Please don’t leave, Dakota; we’ve only just found each other.”
“But we can write.”
“You’ve got no reason to leave. The Carers here, they’re amazing, they can still find away to heal your scars-”
“And Nurse Gornray will contact me if they do.”
“Dakota, come on,” his hands clutched hers; like they had so many times before. The familiar thrill of it shocked her.
Her hands were still colder than his.
Each familiar groove was that little bit deeper. His palm was a little rougher. A couple of new calluses decorated his fingers. She wondered how he’d got them. He used to tell her all his stories. Now she didn’t hear any.
“Please stay.”
Her eyes forced themselves to watch the encroaching train. “Do you really love her, Jude?”
His hands dropped hers like she’d electrocuted him. “What?”
“Ailith,” Dakota said smoothly, “do you really love her?”
“Of course I do,” he laughed uncertainly. “I love Ailith. What’s this got to do with anything?”
“Does she make you happy?”
“Dakota, what’s wrong? Why are you asking me all this?”
“It’s okay, Jude,” she murmured, picking up her bags as the train rumbled to a stop. “Really. You’re happy. I’m happy. Everything’s gonna’ be alright. That’s what you used to sing, isn’t it?”
As, she spoke, she moved, turning quickly and pushing forwards towards the train. Even now, part of her yearned for those hands to take hers and turn her around, and then he’d say… something lovely.
He was so good at being lovely.
But nothing happened. She was leaning out the windows and staring at him, but he wasn’t doing anything; just watching her; his hand held up in a silent goodbye.
Then… he smiled.
And Dakota felt herself begin to cry.
He was still smiling. Perhaps he couldn’t see the tears. He was shouting too; something about keeping in touch. She was to write to him. She could do that. She nodded, and tried to smile too, but the train was moving. Rushing away. This was it.
This was meant to be it.
He grew smaller, smaller than the boy he’d been; and smaller still, ‘til he was just one, solitary pinprick waving to her. Then nothing. Just nothing. Dakota slid down the side of her seat, the tears still falling thick and fast. She didn’t even have the energy to try and stop them.
The sun had set, and her sky had faded. Now, it was nothing but blackness.
