song for the broken. // Cass

[charade]

B L A Z E

It’s been a real interesting year, lemme tell you. Yessir, ah watched the whole quell on the edge of ma seat. This proves that they jess keep alla the losing tributes alive. Ah bet no one even ever dies. Them tributes are on ice somewhere until the Capitol decides to unfreeze ‘em for an all-star games or something. Now wouldn’t that just beat all? Well, except accidents sure do happen in the script cause that gal from four sure didn’t get a second chance and that’s on account of no amount of medicine being able to reattach ya gotdamn head.

Anyway with another games over, it means ah got a whole lot of time to train. Yessir, one a these days ah’m gonna see my name up in lights and rub elbows with the rich and famous. And then maybe, just maybe, Blaze Kenmore will be a household name. Like Glamour Kincade or Opal Earnest. Things have been good. Ah got some new boots a couple weeks ago. Been awhile since Ah could afford them. And Cela’s been droppin by every now and then for a hot meal and a place to sleep. Ah dunno where she goes sometimes, but it sure is nice having someone to talk to.

Nice to have someone to train with too. Yep, she’s decided she needs to learn some self-defense, and wouldn’t ya know it, but she’s asked me to teach her. Oh, lemme tell you, we are gonna have one heckuva time. Ah got it all planned out. She can use my punching bag of course. Ah really got to get some weights one of these days though. I kin teach her all the moves my daddy taught me, even the ones that ain’t strictly sportsmanlike.

Like having a handful of sand in ya pocket at all times with which ta throw at a mans face before ya kick him in his dangly bits. It’s very useful. I dunno why Ripred designed men with such a weakness but it’d be dumb not to take advantage of it when ya can. “You ready Cela?” Ah hope my friend is, cause once we get started, its gonna be a real roller coaster. Ah done my best to keep her at ease, but she still might be nervous.

“Kay now, hit me with ya best shot, I kin take it.” Ah settle into a boxing stance, but I keep my arms wide. She’s got a clear shot at my stomach. This will be the best way to measure her strength level, ya know? Ah mean she’s on the skinny side, and ah’m pretty sure she don’t do much exercise other than running, so ah’m not expecting a punch like the ones ah kin throw. But ah been wrong before. Better clench up. Hmm. Gotta remember to ask how those other street kids are doing. And ah gotta make sure ah don’t reflexively pop her in the face after she hits me, cause this ain’t supposed to be a fight.

K E N M O R E

kaitlin

[cass]

C E L A E N A

It’s been different, a moment of peace here and there where I can escape into comfort. I think it’s helped in a way I had never anticipated. I feel more comfortable, more as though life has meaning. I don’t feel so much like I am wasting away, and I can give more of myself to the children on the streets because I have more energy and strength. Finding food for them has become easier, I can run for longer, stay up later and recover more quickly on the days that I stay with Blaze.

Fighting the guilt that came with prioritising myself was a challenge. But Blaze has a way of making me feel comfortable as if it’s okay to value my own two feet. She makes the world seem a little calmer when in reality we’re both clawing at the life raft, hoping that someone will let us in. At least, when I’m with her, it feels like I have a life jacket on. Maybe we won’t drown, another week or month or year where we can live.

Today, she’s even decided that she’ll teach me how to throw a punch. I don’t think it’s the greatest idea. Even though Blaze is skinny, you can see the muscle on her, legs and arms and abs made of steel. There’s a lifetime of training in her movements. Even though I know I can run and hide, you can tell by the way her feet seem to dance on air. She’s agile, designed, and shaped by her father to be strong and fearsome.

I feel like paper in a breeze beside her, a step away from crumbling. But, when paper crumples it only gets stronger, so maybe I need to break a little to make myself stand a bit taller.

She tells me to come at her, and I find my fists clenched by my sides. I feel foolish, heat creeping onto my cheeks as I raise them up. I’d seen her pull a defensive stance (is that what it was called?) before, and I try and mimic it. I creep forwards, careful with my steps and not wanting to fall on my face before I can even reach her.

I’m standing in front of her as she moves into a stance that I’m unfamiliar with. She tells me to hit her as hard as I can. She can take it. I have no doubt that she can, she’s made from stone, carved by her father’s caring hand. I don’t think my hand can handle hitting her. I swallow, sweat beading on my forehead as I scrunch my eyes up and pull my hand back.

Where am I supposed to hit her? I’ve got no idea. My head scrambles, replaying the dozens of fights I’d seen on the streets, trying to remember where they threw the punch.

Ah. The head.

I take a deep breath and swing as hard as I can, fist connecting with the side of Blaze’s face.

C R O S S E

kaitlin

[charade]

B L A Z E

She’s being quiet. Real quiet. Ah don’t blame her. Don’t sound like she’s really been in any real fights before. This here is something new. The Blaze Kenmore school of hard knocks. That’s what ah’d call my studio if ah had one. Have a nice square ring and rows and rows of boxing gloves and other equipment.

Well, my stomach and chest are wide open so—

Oh, hang on, she’s going for my—

An’ ah can’t even stop myself. She pops my ear and my gears start turning. It’s a reflex. My torso shifts a little bit to the right and my knees bend just a tad. She ain’t got her guard up at all, arms too wide, feet not in the right place. My knees push up and my hips rotate real fast like on account of me having thrown this punch a thousand times before and my back hand shoots upwards, an uppercut headed for her jaw. The purpose of an uppercut is to get ya opponents head into position.

I kin hear pops drilling it into my head already.

One-two Blaze, One-two, like ending a prayer. A-men. A-men. Keep ya cadence going.

Everything’s moving in slow motion, but it’s really moving at light speed; Ah hit her with the one and now for the two. My left hook slams into the side of her face a few seconds after the uppercut snaps her head back and oh lord I didn’t mean to hit her that hard. Cela drops to the ground like a sack o’potatoes and oh lord, she ain’t moving. Did ah kill her? Oh lord, trash pickup ain’t until Tuesday, how am ah gonna hide her in the dumpster until then?

Oh, stop it Blaze. That there is unkind. Ya past that Ah’m past that, no need to panic, it’s jess been a couple months since tha last time she was passed out on ya floor after all.

Yep, she’s breathing. Phew. Man ah really need to go dumpster diving for a couch one of these days. Cause ah sure ain’t buying one of them bitches new. Oh well. Since ah ain’t got a couch, ah figure ah’ll just stick a pillow under her head, and yep, that’s what ah do. My ear is still stinging, but that ain’t nothin compared to what she’s gonna feel. Good thing ah traded Ol’man Garvey two cans a peaches for some smelling salts. Pops always said ya need to have some on hand, so I grab ‘em, pop the top off and wave it under Cela’s nose.

Should only take a moment.

“Hey, you alright?” Ah know ah look concerned, but at least it ain’t as bad as it could have been. Might have punched her nose, and guarantee that right there would need resetting. “Damn Cela, why’d you go fer my face? Ah mean, yeah, ya supposed to in boxing, but to start off with?” She’s brave, doing that.

Wonder if she knows a lot of people need face-punching.

“Ya want some water or something? Ya look like you got knocked inta next week.”

K E N M O R E

kaitlin

[cass]

C E L A E N A

Fuck.

“OWWWWW.” I gasp, drawing my hand back to stare at the knuckles that feel like they’ve split. It’s got to be broken, right? That hurt so much, the pain is pulsating up my arm and my eyes water. I want to cry, but I blink back the tears, biting my lip to stop myself from yelling again.

I look over to Blaze to apologise, but in a second, one moment I know I’ve completely fucked up.

Oh shit.

Not like just a little screw up. Not like when Big Barry caught me stealing food for the kids. Not when he chased me down a street for a few minutes, and I could feel my heart clawing its way out my chest. Not when he almost reached me, but I was able to duck out of the way and slip between a fence that he couldn’t fit through.

No, this was worse, I can see it in Blaze’s eyes, I can see it in the way she moves reflexively.

This was a big fuck up.

The fist smacks into my jaw, under my chin, and snapping my head back so quickly I stumble a few steps. It doesn’t stop, the screeching pain in my skull has hardly registered before the next one locks onto my nose. There’s a burst of pain so bright and brilliant, the scream caught in my throat. Stars dance across my vision and then suddenly the ground is rushing up to meet my face.

---

Blaze’s voice is soothing and gentle, nothing compared to the aching throb that pulsates through my entire face. I feel like cracked glass, falling apart, shattered into a thousand pieces by two hits to the face. I don’t get it when people say that they can’t feel their faces after they’ve been hit because it’s the only thing I can feel right now. The pain in my hand is little more than a tingle compared to whatever was going on with my face

I groan, long and low through a split in my lip that protests at the movement. A hiss quickly follows, the sting biting and vicious as it mingles with the punches that had been delivered. I try and open my eyes. One of them refuses to open and I reach a shaking hand up to touch it, it’s swollen completely shut.

My nose hurts, tears rolling down my cheeks as I try and look at Blaze. There’s blood in my mouth and I’m pretty sure my nose is broken. Well, it hurts enough that it has to be broken.

“’ed tah hit yah ‘ard,” I croak out, looking at her. It hurts to talk; it hurts to do anything.

Ow ow ow ow ow.

“Yah hit ‘ard, ‘aze,” I try twisting, rolling over to face her. “’hik yah ‘oke a ‘ose,” the words are spoken with as much effort as I can manage, trying not to disturb the broken nose.

“It ‘urts,” I groan, closing my eyes to fight of the stabs of pain that spill across my face.

C R O S S E

kaitlin

[charade]

B L A Z E

Ya ever seen a dummy in one a tha training centers get hit with a warhammer and jess kinda flop? Now ah’m not saying that’s what Cela just did, but ah’m not not saying it either, ya know? But she’s up now. Wowee, that’s a shiner if ah ever saw one. And ah have seen a few. Now she’s mumbling, but ah kin pick out enough syllables to figure what she’s saying. Oh yep. Ah hit hard. She hurts. Ah broke her nose.

“Now look here, ah didn’t punch ya nose. My uppercut snapped ya head back and my left hook hit the side of your head like a bag of bricks. Which is kinda why your eye is swole. Your nose…” Ah rub the back of my neck uncomfortably. How many times has she been passed out in my apartment now? Ah outta start laying out a rug or something. Mebbe a pillow.

“Well, ya kinda landed on your face when I knocked you out. So yeah, ah guess ah did that too.”

Shit.

“Shoot, Cela. Ah ain’t sparred with somebody in a long time. Not since Pops passed.” An Pops never got worked over this good by my fists. Mainly on account of him knowing how ta fight and defend hisself. Boy, next lesson Cela needs to start off with how to keep her guard up. Shoot, ah don’t like hurting people what don’t deserve it. Now ah gotta make this right.

“Here, lemme see.” Ah cup her face in ma hands n feel around, and yeah, it’s not too bad. Prolly feels worse than it looks. Ah’ve reset my nose two ah three times. There’s a lil’ trick to it. “This is gonna hurt you more than its gonna hurt me.”

Wait, is that saying backwards? Ah whatever. Ah hold one side of her face steady and grip her nose with my other hand and twist. There’s a faint pop and some blood pours outta her nose like a faucet. That means it should be good. Hope she don’t hate me after this.

“That should do it.”

Heading to the fridge seems to be the next order of business, mhm. No ice packs, but that bottle of orange juice should still be cold. After ah retrieve it ah sit down next to her and hand it off. “Should help with the swelling.” Ah blow out a sigh, one that almost whistles. “You’re gonna be feeling that for a couple days.” Ah smile apologetic like.

“Sorry.”

K E N M O R E

kaitlin

[cass]

C E L A E N A

Blaze tells that she wasn’t the reason why my nose is broken. I find that hard to believe as the words leave her mouth, but moments later she’s connecting the dots for me and building up the dumb story of how I really screwed up. I mean, I really screwed up. I can feel the results with each second, throbbing through my entire face as I fight back another groan.

It wouldn’t help, my face felt like there was nothing on earth that could fix this. Why does it hurt so much? I’ve been through pain, the kind that gnaws at your belly until there are stars dancing in your vision. The kind of pain that comes from skin and bones and starvation, but this? It’s too much.

Blaze is beside me, her hand cupping my face and I wince, wanting to pull myself free, but her grip is strong. Ripred, Blaze is strong. The next words that come out of mouth send a spike of fear coursing through my entire body. I reach upwards, my own fingers holding onto the wrist of her hand, wanting to pull her away, but knowing I’m not strong enough to do it.

When she grabs my nose, I know what’s about to happen. My lips part demand in my throat to tell her to stop. A crooked nose was nothing to worry about, I’m sure it would hurt a lot less-

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” there’s a pop and a burst of pain that comes with the flow of hot, sticky blood dripping into my mouth. It mingles with the scream and I try and wipe it all away, cupping my face with a hand as I curl in on myself. It hurts so much, tears streaming down my face as Blaze admires her handiwork before disappearing.

I hope she doesn’t come back too fast. Every time I end up here, I leave a little better off, but with more bruises then when I arrived.

Blaze sits down next to me, handing over a bottle of orange juice. Tentatively I press it to the new wound, the shape is awkward and not really designed for this purpose, but I’m not complaining. The relief is minimal, but it’s better than nothing.

“tis ok,” I give her a gentle smile, reaching forwards with my free hand to rest it on hers. Closing my eyes I lean my head against the floor, trying to push aside the pain that threatens to push me too far. “’est ‘ay to ‘earn is bah doin’.”

I pull the juice bottle away, looking at Blaze with my best cheeky grin- as much as my face can move without hurting. “I ‘hink I still ‘ook great.”

I bat my eyelashes, “don’t you?”

C R O S S E

kaitlin

[charade]

B L A Z E

Cela rests her hand on mine in what’s supposed to be comforting ah guess. She’s right though. The best way to learn something is by doing it. Hands on experience and whatnot. Eeesh. That smile right there is concerning. She’s a frightful mess right now, thank ripred ah didn’t knock out any teeth. But looking great?

“Nah, you look like shit.”

It occurs to me that that might just come across as insulting, being that blunt an all. But that’s me, ah use a hammer for a thumbtack as Pops would say. “No offense,” Ah add with a toothy grin. “Ya just look like someone slapped the shit outta ya.” Which is the truth and ya know, Pops always told me honesty was tha best policy.

Man, oh man, ah’m gonna have ta clean this mess. Straight up looks like someone went and died in my living room. That’s ironing for ya. Well, it’s a good thing ah have a mop and a bucket from work. Blood is a hard stain ta get out, but ah don’t have carpeting so ah’m good on that front.

Best to wait though. She’s prolly gonna be laying here awhile. Damnation! Ah should have pulled my punch. Didn’t think ah’d need to. And also she caught me off guard and I just kinda reacted. Overreacted. Pops wouldn’t have liked that, but then Pops also ain’t here. Still hear’em though. Blaze, ya gotta keep control of yourself, he’d say. That fire in ya gut gets outta control, ya liable to burn up everyone around ya. It’s okay Pops, ah ain’t forgot.

Ah ain’t in the business of killing my friends. Gonna haveta really start with the basics next time. But ah ain’t cut out to be a teacher. Explaining things is hard. Ah just do ‘em. How do ah tell her not to suck eggs and keep her guard up and also just go for torso shots until she’s got her form right?

Well, just like that ah guess. Not right now though. She might be seeing stars, or three of me depending on how bad ah rattled her noggin. “You wanna stay for dinner, Cela? Ah figure ah owe you a little extra on account of hitting you like a pimp slapping around a two-dollar whore.” Of course, that might not be the best analogy as it sounds mighty insulting now that ah went and said it out loud. Shoot.

“Ah got some of tha finest in microwavable tv dinners in the pantry, ya know.”

K E N M O R E

kaitlin

[cass]

C E L A E N A

Blaze is brutally honest and for a moment it catches me off guard. I falter, smile dropping as I listen to her tell me how terrible I look. But after the initial shock wears away, I’m left shaking my head- as gently as I can manage- a grin on my blood caked lips. It’s almost refreshing being around someone like Blaze. I’m so used to listening to children try and lie their way through their lives.

Children trying to trick me into thinking that they’re not hungry. So used to them telling her that the bruises all over their bodies aren’t from falling over. That they hadn’t spent the day trying to convince their abusive drunken dad to let them come home again. It’s exhausting staring at them as they lie through their teeth, afraid that I might get upset or disappointed for them simply being children.

Whilst I try to fix the holes in their hearts, it’s impossible for me to mend the gaping wounds. It’s like trying to hold sand in a bucket with a hole, no matter how many times I scoop more in, it’ll just keep running out. They want their families; they want to feel loved and cared for and there’s nothing wrong with that.

I don’t quite understand what Blaze means by a two-dollar whore. Two dollars is a lot of money and I’m not aware of what the term whore implies. Coming from Blaze’s lips I’m sure it’s something that’s not quite endearing. It’s more likely that it’s a bad thing, so all I can do is nod along with the commentary, dragging myself into a sitting position.

The couch is pressed against my back. The throbbing in my face is like daggers under my flesh. There are black dots at the edge of my vision and I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake.

“That sounds really nice, Blaze,” I say, focusing my gaze on the floor to stop myself from throwing up or passing out. Maybe a little of both. “I’m sorry to intrude again, but may I sleep here?” I point to the spot I’m sitting, knowing fully well that I’m not going to be able to move from here.

“Like, right here? I don’t think I can move,” I give her a pathetic smile, eyes narrowing as the world spins a little more. I don’t even think I’ll be able to eat whatever she gives me, but I’ll try otherwise I’ll just pass out tomorrow from hunger. "Don't worry you won't have to drag me into the shower this time." Or maybe she will.

Blaze must really think I’m a mess. She’s not wrong.

C R O S S E

kaitlin

[charade]

B L A Z E

It ain’t often ya make friends the way we did, but that’s just how things work on this side of the tracks in district one. So it ain’t a surprise when she asks if she can bunk in my apartment for the night, tho ah am a bit worried when she says she’s just gonna sleep right where she’s laying down now cuz she can’t move. Jeez. Did she get a concussion? Ah didn’t think ah hit her that hard. But Pops always said ah was tough.

“Ah will if you pass out. Can’t have a dead body stinkin up the joint. An the dumpsters mighty full right now.” Ah wink, grinning from ear to ear like a psychopath. Course, there ain’t never been no dead bodies in here, but that’s what jokes were made for. What ah’m getting at is that that was a joke. Anyway, rummaging through the fridge didn’t quite have the result ah wanted. Ya know how ah said ah had some of the finest in tv dinners?

Well there’s a meatloaf. Oh, and lookie here. More meatloaf. Coulda sworn there was still a mac n cheese left, and on GOD there was a chicken tender meal ah was saving for a special occasion. Now where did that get to? Oh, no wait. Yep. Ate that one two days ago at three in the morning. Oh well. Meatloaf ain’t so bad. “But yeah, Cela, you kin stay the night.”

Dunno what kind of stuff really goes inta these things and its prob best not to think about it. Horse lips and ass meat ah reckon. Damn, there ah go thinkin about it. Well, its not just meatloaf. There’s mashed potatoes what been mulched basically, and some frozen peas on the side. Nothin the microwave can’t handle.

Thank you district nine.

There’s a rattle and then a dull hum as it kicks on, the tray spinning around as they heat up. Man oh man, ah got it! Time to invest in some boxing gloves so that next time my knuckles don’t leave an imprint all over her pretty little head. Cause they did. Good thing ah don’t wear rings, or she’d have an imprint of that too.

Takes a couple minutes to heat up both of them and damn they get hot. Ah plunk one down next to Cela and balance the other one on my lap, pulling the plastic film off and chucking it somewhere behind me. Ah’ll get it later. These are the top of the line meals, ya know. Come with a little plastic spork right there in the package.

“Bon appetite, Cela!” Yep, that’s right. Fancy way to say let’s eat. Ain’t ah just full of surprises? You pick up fancy words after a while, cleaning up messes at fancy places an all. There’s quite a few of them knocking around in this here noggin. Though it’s Cela’s battered noggin that’s the concern here.

Hope her brain cells ain’t playing ping pong in there.

K E N M O R E

kaitlin

[cass]

C E L A E N A

I can’t help but snort at Blaze’s comment only to immediately regret the action. The stab of pain is enough for an audible yelp to escape my lips as I grasp at my injured nose with my free hand. The ice was working its magic, stinging the area but also numbing it enough that the throbbing pain was a little less intense. I wonder how many times I’ve made Blaze worry about having to dispose of my unconscious body.

The first time we met she was simply being kind to me, and I fell unconscious on her floor. Here I am again falling onto her floor after her showing me the kindness of trying to teach me how to fight. I mean, at least this time, it wasn’t entirely my fault I’d ended up on the floor. But I did have a strong history of being fast friends with the floorboards beneath my body. We were intimately acquainted with one another that’s for sure.

I watch as Blaze looks through the fridge, a slight frown on my face. She’s a puzzle, a brash and blunt girl with fists made of iron. She’s kind and unpredictable, willing to let a stranger crash on her couch and sacrificing her own food to feed me. She’s rough around the edges, but there’s a softness in her touches and her words that makes my heart twist. She’s a special girl, the cruelness of the world leaving scars within her, but she comes out stronger and capable of still believing in good.

There’s a lot I can learn from her. She’s already taught me so much and makes me want to live a little more for my own goals. Before meeting Blaze, I was stuck, sacrificing everything I had to help others until it almost killed me. Now, I feel as though I can draw shaky boundaries and try and eat more and be more of the person I used to be. Before the streets became my home, before my mother died.

She sits down beside me, tossing film on floor as she tucks into the meal. My hands find the container, ignoring the burn against my skin I place it on my own lap. The last time I ate a warm meal was when I was here with Blaze. She spoils me, treats me to food and drinks that I have not had since my mother made them for me.

“Your Pa seems like he was an incredible man, Blaze,” I say, digging my fork into the meal. I don’t look at Blaze, a knot in my chest as I bring a forkful to my lips. I may not have had a good dad but I had a mother who loved me with her entire heart. “He certainly raised an incredible daughter.”

The food burns my tongue, but I ignore it, overcome with flavours that bring tears to my eyes. I hope that one day I can live with the safety of four walls around me, eating meals with people I care about. Part of me hopes that one day I can repay Blaze for all the wonderful things she has done for me. I want to cook her one of the meals my mum used to make me.

“I think you’d have really liked my mum. She used to make something similar to this, it reminds me of her.”

C R O S S E

kaitlin

[charade]

B L A Z E

Sure is nothing better than processed meats. ‘Cept maybe processed cheese. Lemme tell you, there’s a difference in taste between cheese and cheese product, and it’s the second one that sticks to your ribs. But yeah, ah mean, you ever had baloney? Fuck if ah know what all is in that, but it tastes swell with some mayonnaise and orange cheese.

But yeah, she’s right. Pops was one of a kind. Honest. Hardworking. How to look out for people. Never took shit from nobody. He did what he could to raise me alone; ah know he missed Mom, but he didn’t show it much. Had to be strong fer the both of us. Taught me to stand on my own two feet and to never accept guff from anyone. Ah figure her Mom was incredible too, on account of Cela being a guardian angel of the alleyways.

So her momma made meatloaf a lot. Or maybe she meant the potatoes. Never had one, a mom that made meals. Qell, I mean yeah I had one, but I don’t remember her too well. Cause she died a long time ago. Guess she don’t have much in the way of family anymore. She’s been around here quite a few times, but she don’t really talk about them. But ah guess that’s good? Hurts sometimes, dredging up the past for people. Must do that for her. There’s tears gathering t’edges of her eyes.

Of course, might be the that the mashed potatoes taste like wet paper. That can be mighty depressing too. Quiet reigns for a moment, cause ah’m not really sure what to say to that. Shoveling peas and chunks of meatloaf into my mouth gives me time to think though. “She must have had that special spark then. Same as you. Ya know you’re special right?” Ah say between mouthfuls of mystery meat. Has a beef like quality to it, but ah ain’t convinced.

“Kind and selfless and whatnot, helping out the homeless in our district when most folks got their heads so far up they own asses they kin see daylight.” That don’t really get to the point though. Ah’m not really good with words when it comes to things like this. Compliments and such. Pops would jess give me a thumbs up and a job well done, but that don’t seem exactly right for what we’re talking about.

“Ah’d of liked her if she was anything like you,” ah say with a grin, wolfing down what has got to be chunks of horse or donkey. Or maybe it’s just beef mixed with something else. Like chicken. Ah slap her on the back friendly like, careful not to knock the wind out of her or anything, seeing as how she’s made of glass and all.

“Anyways, I’m afraid ah don’t have anything in the way of dessert. Had some cookies a couple days ago. Ate the bag in one sitting because ah was bored.” But oh right, she’s staying until morning again. Prob doesn’t care about that. Ah smile wide. “Ah’ll rustle up something for breakfast afore you leave tomorrow, how’s that sound?”

K E N M O R E

kaitlin

[cass]

C E L A E N A

Blaze wears her heart on her sleeve, built from kindness and moulded by the rush of waves that collide between the world as it is and the one her father created for her. She’s something else, something the world is better off for having in it. She makes the world better, builds it with love and a gentle, naïveté that goes beyond even my own. I’m not the smartest person, flawed to a fault and surviving on my limited wits. I think between the two of us we have enough common sense to make it without getting too hurt.

She fills the gaps in my knowledge, allowing me to be a little braver and stronger. She says things that make my heart melt and bring tears to my eyes. I’m soft, even after the countless times, my father’s fist has found my stomach. Even after losing my heart as my mother died, nothing has hardened me. I let the grim and dirt of the streets build up over wounds to pretend they don’t exist.

Every time I see Blaze, she washes it away, revealing scars that I had forgotten about. Forcing me to realise my own weakness or remember the pain I have chosen to forget. She makes me feel human, makes me feel like I might live rather than survive.

“Don’t need any dessert, Blaze,” I say, finishing off the last bits of food sitting in the tray. A cookie was an imaginary thing within my mind. So far gone that I didn’t even miss the idea of eating one anymore. It’s funny how loss becomes so stable that nothing really bothers me anymore.

We’re in a dance, Blaze and I, a song for the broken.

We hold the pieces together through the choices we make towards other people. Built from memories that stain our souls but make the world seem a little less rose-tinted- a lot more realistic.

“Breakfast would be lovely,” I lean back into the couch, resting my head on the edge as my head turns to the roof. My face is throbbing painfully, and I can only imagine how stiff, bruised, and swollen my face is going to be by tomorrow. Maybe it’d scare away some of the feral animals that try to eat the kid’s food. I smile weakly, thinking of growling at them with the mess that sits on my face. I could pull it off. “I’ll help make it if I can open my eyes tomorrow. Otherwise, I might just have to lie here until I can see.”

I laugh, turning my head to face her. “Knowing me, I would definitely fall down the stairs if I tried to leave with swollen eyes. You’d have to carry me down to prevent it.”

She’s the only friend I’ve ever had.

C R O S S E

kaitlin

[charade]

B L A Z E

Now that ain’t right. Everybody needs dessert, whether that’s a nice slice of chocolate cake, blueberry pie, donuts or a brownie or dare ah say it, ice cream. Not frozen yogurt tho. Hate that crap. As a wise old outdoorsman named Ron once said to his froyo, be ice cream or be nothing. Can’t believe she don’t want dessert. Ah’ll have to get her something to change her mind. Mebbe some frozen waffles for breakfast? Syrup is sweet. Kinda like Cela, and ah do meant that.

Naw, it’s nice, real nice of her to offer to help but she’s a guest, ain’t she? Means its all for me to do. ‘Specially since ah almost made her cross-eyed. Picturing her rolling down the stairs like a bowling ball, yeah, that’d be something all right. Ah don’t know. She’s like a butterfly or something, halfway wrapped in a Chrysler-thingy. Don’t know if I’m seeing all of her, you know? Just the parts that are all solid. But bet if those wings ever fully unfurled it’d be quite the sight to see.

Ah got that from Pops, ya know. Looking at people, sizing ‘em up, tryna find that potential lurking under the skin. And there’s a heart of gold somewhere underneath all them scars. She’s a bird that flew into a window, ah reckon. Or a bird that flew into an open window and got chased around with broom. Well, the busted beak is on account of me laying her out with a haymaker, but the wing?

Naw, that’s been broken a while. But not so long ago that she;s forgotten the hurt. Like she won’t let no one touch check the bandage in case they hurt her like that last one done did. Wish ah could do more, but ah ain’t a bird doctor. Ah mean, a mental doctor. Bah, you know what ah mean. Don’t have a clue. Want to help though, she’s about the only friend ah’ve made in—

Well, making friends ain’t exactly easy, let’s put it that way. Pops wasn’t one for schooling, said it was all hogwash and government propaganda and you ain’t need book reports or algebra to live a good life and they don’t care about truancy when you kin opt out to learn a trade. Kids slip through the cracks sumothetime. Coulda used some lessons on how to talk with people though.

Yep, ah know ah’m not the best articulate one out there, you kin see it in people’s eyes sometimes when they hear me talk. Like they think ah’m poor and stupid. Well I may not be able to afford fancy pants and mebbe ah have a drawl that most people in this district don’t but ah’m not dumb.

“Shoot, carrying you’d be easy, bet my laundry basket weighs more than you. Plus,” ah add, grinning wide and smacking the lean muscle on my left bicep with my right hand, “Ah’m strong as fuck.” Anyway ah’m glad ah got her cause since Pops died ah ain’t had no one else.

It’s real nice to have a friend.

K E N M O R E

kaitlin