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Leen had finally done it. After fifteen years of resisting temptation and trying to be good and getting called a wuss by her more sticky-fingered friends, she'd finally stolen a package off someone's doorstep. A package she hugged in all its chilly glory as she scampered breathlessly around the corner and down a whole block, her bookbag dragging at her shoulders. A package labeled FROZEN MEAT. She was gonna feed Ammy and Deeny and Pete steak! or whatever was in this package, she was sure she could cook it somehow. Get some meat on their bones, a full dinner for once. And of course air out the place before Dad came reeling in drunk as usual and started yelling for some.
But first she needed to get rid of the packaging with someone else's name on it. Under the rustling yellow-green trees she jogged around another corner and slumped, gasping, against a light post beside a shiny clean trash bin. Nice neighborhoods, Leen thought, and then reminded herself she needed to not get caught in this nice neighborhood, as she shoved her thumb into the package flap. The plasticized cardboard put up a good fight but she managed to rip it up and reach in.
Inside, Leen found a blue cold pack, and a plastic sack of ... small bumpy curved things. She tugged the bag out a little and found herself looking at little gray frozen mice.
Leen's heart tried to jump up her throat, shoving a scream in front of it, and it took some effort to swallow both down. This was a nice neighborhood. People would notice if she screamed.
Next in the insides dance came her stomach, sinking hard. Frozen mice are dinners for snakes, and Leen always had a soft spot for snakes. They were just so ... self-possessed and sleek and shiny. They didn't mess with people unless messed with first. She could toss the package, but there was probably a snake waiting to eat these mice.
Sighing from the bottom of her lungs, Leen shoved the flap back down and turned around to go back and return the package of mice. Frozen meat, indeed. Even as she trudged back around the corner she had to giggle.
The brownstone's steps looked much steeper now than when she'd scrambled up them to grab the package. So of course Leen's brain brought up a memory of Mom, from before the year she was sick, gently holding Leen's hands as she explained Important Stuff, her braids piled in high beautiful loops on top of her head.
Ugh, Leen thought, and scratched between her cornrows, and started climbing the stairs.
Just as she was leaning over to put the package down, the door opened. Leen jumped back in alarm, started falling, windmilled frantically, caught the banister, and looked up by accident as she gasped.
A smiling princess sat there on a throne.
No, of course not. Leen almost smacked herself. A short girl sat there in a decorated wheelchair, maybe a couple years older than Leen. Her hair was a shining tumble of blonde curls, her velvety skin a deep rich tan that didn't look like it came from a booth or a beach, her eyes shocking blue and bright and yet warm as she smiled and waved Leen in. "Bring that here?" the girl asked in a surprisingly deep resonant alto considering how small she was, painted vines curling under her hands and blooming with flowers all over the wheelchair. Her clothes were ordinary, a purple tee and blue jeans and ballerina slippers, but she wasn't, at all.
Leen took a deep breath, picked up the package, and went up to the golden girl.
"Thanks, " she said, as Leen mutely handed over the package. "Come in. I'm Chrissie. You came back sooner than I thought you would."
The front door shut behind Leen, by itself. "Uh." There was another door and a basket of mail and some hooks to hang up coats, but Leen kept on her bookbag and jacket as Chrissie opened the inner door. "Are you gonna call the police?"
"No," Chrissie said, as if that were the last thing she'd ever do, and pushed the door open as she wheeled in, and Leen stepped inside and gasped.
It was the weirdest, prettiest apartment Leen had ever seen. There was no second floor, or third, or anything, just warm white walls covered with framed photos and ringed with bright windows all the way up to the high, high ceiling. Instead of doors, wide vividly painted screens shielded three places from view; the entire building looked like one giant, impossibly lofty room. Eyes roaming, Leen noticed that each of the screens held a detailed, gold-edged painting of one of those wiggly Eastern dragons in all its glory.
"I like it airy," said Chrissie, and Leen looked at her again to see her turning left into a kitchen alcove with all the stuff a normal kitchen would have like a gas stove and a microwave and a fancy fridge with ice and water dispensers, covered all over in postcards and travel magnets. Chrissie wheeled over to the fridge, grabbed a glass nearly big enough to take a bath in, half filled it with ice, opened the fridge, and filled it full of chocolate milk, and Leen's disobedient stomach rumbled unnecessarily. At school they'd at least given her the Sandwich of Shame every day this week, even if she was way behind on her lunch debt.
Chrissie turned and handed Leen the chocolate milk. "Drink up," she said in that deep warm voice.
"Uh," Leen said again, and "Um, thank you, I'm Leen."
"Arleen," said Chrissie, smiling wide, "drink your milk."
Eighteen year olds are so bossy. But it was chocolate milk, and it's not like it wasn't obvious 'Leen' was short for a real name. So Leen drank her milk, every scrumptious drop, and started eating the ice, crunching under her teeth.
Chrissie didn't seem to mind. She pulled more stuff out of her fridge, packages that looked like cheese, a tomato, and so on, and opened the freezer to toss the bag of mice into it. Chrissie moved quickly, but Leen still spotted at least two pints of high-end ice cream, and her mouth watered.
Rather than stare at the back of Chrissie's golden head as she cut up the tomato, Leen glanced around again as she ate more ice, trying to spot the snake's tank. Maybe it was behind one of those screens.
"What'cha looking for?" Chrissie asked, making Leen jump, again.
"Your snake," Leen said, and blushed hot. Everyone always said she was way too goddamn honest.
Chrissie turned her head to look at Leen with one big blue eye. "Oh, I should have them come thank you for returning their dinners." More than one snake? But then Chrissie tilted up her chin and whistled.
Wings rattled high above. Leen looked up and helplessly screamed, clutching her cup. About two-thirds of the way up hung a gleaming brass cage, covered with a cozy thick cloth. At the base it had a square door, being pushed open by something red, red and metallic and shiny, with wide wings and a long tail and a lizardy head and smoke puffing from its nose. A dragon, A little red dragon, soaring down, circling down on outspread membraney red wings.
Leen found she'd shoved her free hand into her mouth when Chrissie turned around and touched her wrist, and -- it was like an electric shock but good, jolting through Leen, so she dropped her hand and gasped as the little red dragon arced in towards them. Chrissie kept her arm raised and just like a falcon in stories the dragon landed on her arm and folded its wings and chirped.
"This," said Chrissie, as the dragon turned big faceted glinting eyes on Leen, like giant glowing rubies, "is Roja. Azur must be asleep. Roja, this is Leen. She brought home your mice for you."
"Um, hi," said Leen.
Roja the little red dragon chirped, more smoke coming out of its little nose, and headbutted Leen's shoulder, then settled back onto Chrissie's arm. It felt like -- just like a scaly cat would, and warm, too, very warm.
"You have a dragon," Leen said stupidly.
"Ah, two," said Chrissie. "You'll meet Azur some other time. For now, Roja, you can go back up," as she lifted her arm quickly and Roja took off, croaking a sharp rattly noise. Leen watched it fly until Chrissie asked, "Cheddar or monster?"
"What?" Leen's head was spinning.
"Cheddar," Chrissie asked again, holding up a block of yellow cheese, "or muenster?" as she switched it for another block of white cheese.
"Oh, um, muenster." Which Leen had never had but why not? It wasn't going to be the weirdest thing about today.
"Of course, if you'd run off with the Omaha Steaks package that would have annoyed me," said Chrissie conversationally as she handed Leen a plate with a triple decker sandwich on it. "But you would've brought it back soon enough."
"Whah -- why?" Why was she so sure, Leen wondered, looking into those bright blue eyes?
"I have my ways," Chrissie said, mysteriously, because she was such a grownup at eighteen or whatever, and then, "drop the bookbag at least and eat up. You can walk around and look at the place while you eat."
Leen gave up and obeyed, because this sandwich was bigger than everything she'd eaten for the last two days. She handed the empty cup and her bag to Chrissie, who smiled so warmly Leen couldn't be scared, as she set out wandering around and eating her massive glorious sandwich, full of juicy tomatoes and fresh lettuce and creamy tangy cheese. The main attraction were the pictures on the walls. All of them showed Chrissie smiling with someone else. There were whole families and individuals, famous people and ordinary looking people, a bodybuilder girl holding Chrissie in her arms, Chrissie holding an incredibly cute baby. And everyone was smiling, happy to be together. Awed, Leen wondered what it would be like to have so many friends.
As Leen looked up, and up, the pictures spiraled up the walls, turning to black and white. Chrissie must really love photomanips, Leen thought. There was no way she was old enough for sixties clothes as she wheeled between two marchers holding signs, let alone a 40's army uniform as she sat on a huge soldier's shoulder surrounded by his squad, looking like she was glowing.
There were more pictures above these, as the clothes got older and hats appeared, and then ones in color again, with really old fashioned clothes, and Leen almost thought she saw brushstrokes in those, if she squinted. But that couldn't be right.
By now she'd finished the sandwich, and walked almost the full circle around the big room, so Leen came back to the kitchen to find Chrissie tying a plastic bag to the top strap of her bookbag. "Sandwiches," she said, showing Leen the massive pile of full sandwich bags. They could probably make all that last the rest of the week!
"Oh my God thank you," Leen said, and then, "Why are you being so nice to me?"
"I like you," said Chrissie. "Come here," as she wheeled out of the kitchen, towards a waist high bookcase with a planner and a cup of pens on the top.
"But you don't know me," Leen couldn't keep from saying, even as she hefted her bag and followed.
There was a huge golden flash, and the wheelchair was empty, and above Leen was a big golden dragon bigger than an eagle, wings more than six feet wide, looking down with those bright blue jewel eyes, as from everywhere Chrissie's voice echoed, edged with brass like trumpets. "I know you, Arleen."
Another flash and Chrissie was back in her chair, not a curly hair out of place.
"You're a dragon," Leen whispered.
"I'm a lot of things," Chrissie said calmly, like she hadn't just turned into a great big golden dragon. "And I could use some help around here, actually."
"You, need help?" That might be the most astonishing thing this afternoon.
"Yeah, a couple afternoons a week." Chrissie pulled a business card out of the planner and held it out to Leen. "Want a job?"
At least Leen wasn't too dazzled to ask, "What's the pay?"
"Fifty a week and all you can eat," Chrissie said, and for a moment all Leen could think about was how much food fifty would buy, and even clothes if they put some of it away -- Ammy could help her budget --
"Yes," said Leen, taking Chrissie's card, shaking her warm, warm hand. "Oh my God, yes. Thank you."
"Of course," said Chrissie, smile shining, blue eyes bright, and for the first time in what felt like forever, like a rubber band snapping in a good way, Leen stopped worrying.