He wasn’t sure why he had offered to walk her home. The words had come out of his mouth and she had accepted before he realized what was happening. Sure, he thought, the streets are more dangerous now than they used to be, but this was her neighborhood, after all. Yrial could take care of herself. Or if she couldn’t, he doubted he’d be that much more help to her.
But still, when the train doors shushed open, Eloa followed her out, climbing the long steps up to the surface. Blinking his eyes against the brightness, he glanced around. He had never been in this part of the city before. The drab buildings leaned over him, crowding out the sky. Small piles of rubble and trash lay haphazardly on the sidewalks. Cars rushed blindly past, and the few people navigating the sidewalks pressed numbly on, faces drawn, eyes down, seemingly focused on destination rather than path.
Yrial walked easily at his side. Eloa, for his part, felt tense and unsure. His eyes kept drifting to shadows and alleys along the buildings. They crossed a street, and Eloa kept bobbing his head back and forth, inspecting the roads to ensure that no cars were going to ignore the lights and leap out into the intersection. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked him as they stepped back onto the curb.
“Yeah, it’s just….” He paused. “I don’t know. Are you sure you’re safe here?”
She laughed. “What? My neighborhood’s not good enough?”
Eloa frowned. “None are any more.” Now that he thought about it, these buildings didn’t look much different from where he lived. “Mine isn’t any better.”
“Why so gloomy today? Look around. The sun is shining. The wind is blowing clean air in from the river. Take a deep breath. Live!” She darted in front of him, flung her arms out and spun around.
Eloa had to laugh. “Watch it! Twirling is a sport for meadows. Cities are for slinking. You don’t want to get confused, or when you finally get to the meadow you might think it’s time to slink.”
She turned around, still a few paces in front of him, and faced him while walking backward. “And when you get to the meadow, you won’t have had any practice and won’t know how to twirl.”
“I’ve watched a master.”
“You can watch a bird fly and you’ll still get no closer to the clouds.” She turned around again and skipped away from him.
He ran to catch up. “Maybe you’ll have to teach me.”
“Oh no,” she shouted over her shoulder. “I’m not taking any remedial students.”
He had almost caught up to her. “I learn quickly.”
She stopped suddenly. He caught himself just before he ran into her.
“This is my stop,” she said, nodding toward the door.
“I’ll walk you up.”
“No, this is good. Thanks for walking me home.” She turned, walked to the door, placed her hand against it, and then stopped. She turned back around. “Lesson one: arms straight, hands relaxed.” She smiled. “See you tomorrow.”
Eloa thrust his arms out, his hands hanging limply. She laughed at him. “Not that relaxed.” She came to him, grabbed one hand, and pushed it up a little. “It’s still a hand, not an overcooked noodle.”
“Right. I knew that,” he said.
She leaned toward him, kissed him on the cheek, and said, “You’re cute, Eloa.” Three steps later she was through the door, leaving Eloa standing shocked on the sidewalk staring at the door through which she had disappeared, his arms straight out, his hands not relaxed in the slightest.
“Whoah.”
He dipped his head back until he could see a sliver of sky through the tall buildings. His arms slowly lifted until his hands were almost straight above him. Then he dropped his hands onto his head, grabbing chunks of hair. He exhaled.
“Whoah,” he said again.
He didn’t remember how he got home that night.