“He adores animals. He’s crazy about them. They are pure and innocent creatures.”
“Oops,” Red says, grinning uncertainly.
“Exactly,” Rat says, looking straight at Red, which she doesn’t usually do to anyone, at least not for more than three seconds at a time. “What is it you know about him, huh? For your information, he’s a writer. Wrote loads of books. All of them about animals. I’m pretty sure there are some in our library. Would you like to read a couple?”
“Probably not. Are they any good?”
“You’ll drown in tears. But it’s all going to be fine in the end. And if one of his books gets made into a movie then no animals are going to be harmed during production. He always puts a clause about that in the contract.”
“Look, you didn’t have to do that, OK?” Red says. “So everyone has their own skeleton in the closet. Why fly off the handle?”
Rat scratches the bridge of her nose.
“I don’t know,” she says glumly. “I guess this is how his visits work on me. I get ill. And then there’s you with the questions.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Is there anything you do know?”
Red doesn’t answer. He’s also stuck to the table and is trying to pry away his elbows without attracting attention. The table doesn’t want to let him off without a fight. It’s easier for Rat with her bare arms.
“You might not believe me, but in summer it’s great for catching flies,” Red says.
Rat glances in the badges, appalled. Red sounds serious.
“Disgusting,” she says. “If I were you I’d keep that to myself.”
“Totally disgusting,” Red agrees readily. “But also useful. In a limited fashion.”
He fidgets, smiling at something only he understands, then slides the green shades up and morphs into a fairy-tale creature from another world. A very somber creature. One could use his eyes like a mirror, drown in them, stay there forever, stuck faster than a fly to a trap masquerading as a table. A reflection in them is always more beautiful than in an ordinary mirror. It’s hard to look away from it.
Rat stares at the two images of herself. After a while she shakes her head, chasing off the enchantment.
“Why don’t you take off your clothes too?” she says.
Red shrugs and lowers the glasses back. He then reaches out to her and slowly turns her badges backside-up, one by one. On the other side they are blank.
“Watch it,” Rat says. “I don’t let anyone do that. Those are my eyes.”
Red snatches the hand away so quickly it’s almost funny.
“And yours lie,” she adds angrily. “They show an improved version.”
Red shakes his head. “They show what is. You’re the one with the lowered self-esteem after meeting with that parent of yours.”
She wants to snap back, say something that would turn him off her forever. Make him regret his attempts at meddling in her soul and his cloying words of consolation. Make him stop showing her unreal reflections. But she can’t bring herself to reject them. She does need them, at least occasionally, at least on days like this one. And Red is perfectly aware of that. She remembers herself in the chocolate pools that are his eyes. So beautiful.
“How is it?” he says once she takes a sip from the cap.
“Not bad. Considering it’s the Pheasants—more or less brilliant. I had no idea they were into stuff like this.”
Red, relieved that a scene seems to have been avoided, smiles.
“We know very little about them. They live in the House, but in a sense not quite.”
“Yeah. They are not of this place. But not of the Outsides either.”
They fall silent. Red pours out another capful for Rat.
“Listen,” he says with inflated enthusiasm, “they say Noble is into Ginger now? Like really into her. Is that true?”
Rat’s hand reaches for the badges by itself. She glances at them, but leaves them the wrong side up. She can see that Red is finally getting to his real point even without them.
“How would I know?” she snaps back. “I’ve just returned. Ask her, why don’t you.”
“She gets ticked off when I do,” Red says glumly.
“Then don’t bring it up with me either.”
Rat’s eyes become angry, but Red does not notice. He fiddles with the flask. Screws on the cap and lifts his head. Even the lenses of his shades betray apprehension.
“I worry about her,” he says. “She’s like a sister to me. I feel kinda responsible for her. To myself. She’s been in love with Blind since forever, like, since she was ten. And Blind . . . you know . . . he doesn’t give a crap. He wouldn’t make an effort for any girl. If she jumps into bed with him—fine, her choice. That’s the way he is. He doesn’t care who he’s doing it with. So if Noble lures her to the Fourth, they’re going to be close together. Her and Blind. That’s what I’m worried about. For Blind it’s all fun and games, but not for her.”
“All right,” Rat sighs. “What’s all that have to do with me? Where do I come in?”
Red smiles obsequiously.
“Well . . . you might . . . you know . . . work your way in there too. The Fourth, I mean. You’re a girl, and a pretty one at that.”
Rat’s eyes narrow.
“And then what? Be Ginger’s chaperone? Stop her from making the move on Blind?”
