“Why don’t you learn how to listen?”
“You think I’m a true fae,” I spit out, tired of beating around the bush.
She gasps louder than I’ve ever heard her gasp before.
“Stop being dramatic. I don’t think I am.”
“You don’t want to think you are, so you are going to tell yourself that you aren’t until you have undeniable evidence to the contrary. It’s your defense mechanism, which is why I have made the calls, so you don’t have to beat yourself up.”
“Well, who’s the bestest friend of all?”
“Me. Obviously. I give way more to this friendship than you do. I mean, until last night, you were no better than a muggle.”
“Ouch.”
“Truth hurts,” she says, pinching my arm.
Another purple light pops on the street.
“Do you think they do this all day, every day?”
“What? Walking through the portal?”
“Yea. Do you think she sits here and counts the number of purple flashes?”
“No. That sounds horrendous.”
Bored out of my mind, I flop on the couch, sprawled out like a starfish. “Can you call Betty to see where she is?”
“Oh my goddesssss. Fine. I will call her.” She walks out of the room, which is probably more from habit than anything else, because the walls are paper thin, where they exist. She’s talking to her about lunch and groceries, so I walk over to the window and play spot the underfae.
SMACK!
I scream and jump back, clutching my chest, blinking rapidly, trying to steady my breathing.
“What? What!” Lizzy yells, storming into the living room. “What happened?”
“A bird. I was standing at the window watching the underfae portal, and a bird flew straight at me into the window.”
“Flew at you? Like it was aiming for you?”
“Well, no. I wouldn’t say it was aiming for me. It just happened to hit the window I was standing in front of.”
“Where is this bird?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you. I just want to see the bird.”
We look out of the second-story window. There on the sidewalk, laying with its wings spread out on the cement, is a little bird. “There.”
She stares at it for a minute too long, then sighs and sits back on the couch. “Betty got delayed. She’s having some food dropped off for us. She said she gave instructions to leave it at the door.”
“Fan-tilly-tas-tic! When?”
“Always with the when and gimme gimme. Patience, dear child. It’s a virtue.”
“You’re hilarious.” Between the two of us, she is the most impatient person I’ve ever met. She waits until the last possible second to use the bathroom, because she hates sitting on the toilet for too long. She’s nearly shitting her pants before she allows herself to go. I’ve told her it’s a bad idea to do that, because one time she’s going to get burned, but she doesn’t listen.
