Eddi.
Carla considered for a moment. "Well, I wouldn't. And the thought of eating something out of your refrigerator makes me queasy. I say we go for it."
"Carla, are you crazy? We can't take him out in public! God knows what he'd do!" The phouka looked achingly innocent.
"Hmm." Carla frowned and paced to the window and back. "We'll go to the New Riverside Cafe. He can do anything he wants and nobody'll notice."
"Gnnng." Eddi pulled at her hair. "Weird vegetarian eggplant food."
"Maybe they'll make you a nice Wonder Bread and Skippy sandwich," said Carla.
Eddi glared at the phouka. "Why me? What did I do to deserve you?"
The phouka looked, for once, genuinely regretful. "We cannot always choose what life brings us, or how it is brought."
"Platitude."
"There may be truth in platitudes."
"Gnnng."
"Go get a jacket," Carla scolded.
The phouka was smiling a little, and something in that smile, the tilt of his head, offered Eddi a lazy challenge. She narrowed her eyes at him and went to the bedroom.
She put on her big denim jacket and turned the collar up. "Tough girl," she said to her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and tried out a sneer. It made her feel better.
Carla's wagon was parked at the bottom of the hill that was Spruce Place. In the shadow of the apartment buildings that lined the street, the air was chilly. "Don't you need your jacket or something?" Eddi asked the phouka. The skin of his arms and shoulders was smooth as melted chocolate, without a goosepimple in sight.
"What jacket?"
"The one you had on earlier. Aren't you cold?"
He tipped his head back and laughed.
"Excuse me for asking." She wasn't really annoyed—not until they reached the car. Then she looked up from yanking open the slightly sprung passenger's side door, and found him eyeing the car, his lip curled.
"What's wrong?"
He made a face, as if he'd stepped barefoot on a dead squid.
Eddi leaned back against the car. "If you want to walk, we'll meet you there"—she smiled sweetly—"maybe."
"I . . . will not be comfortable in that."
"Gosh. I should have told Carla to bring the Mercedes."
Carla stuck her head out her door and looked at them over the roof. "Hey, Rover—we'll roll the window down, and you can ride along with your tongue out."
Eddi looked quickly back to the phouka, but he seemed to have missed the "Rover" entirely. He said only, "I would feel much better with the windows open."
It was a cold ride. The phouka sat in the back seat, and though he didn't quite lean out the window, he sat very close to it. Eddi slumped in the passenger seat, her shoulders hunched against the breeze, and whistled all that she could remember of "Won't Get Fooled Again."
Carla took the U of M West Bank exit, and said cheerfully, "Hey, you in the back seat! If you really can do magic, find us a parking space!"
"That is not one of the things I can do."
"Then what good are you?"
The phouka, to Eddi's surprise, made no reply. She turned and looked at him over the seat. He'd leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yes." He cut the word off neatly at the end.
"You don't sound like it."
What do I care?
she wondered, surprised.
The seat bumped her under the chin as the car bounced over something. Eddi turned around and found that they were lurching into the gravel lot across from Mixed Blood Theatre. "Remind me," Carla muttered, "to stay off the West Bank on a Saturday night."
"And out of downtown, and Uptown, and off of University Avenue. I always do. You always ignore me."
"Heh." Carla parked the car at the far end of the lot and flung the door open. "Look out for puddles."
Eddi, mindful of her sneakers, did. The phouka was fumbling his hands across the inside of the car door, his face tense.
"What's the matter?" Eddi asked him.
"I'm afraid I don't know how to open this." His black eyes were round, and made his little smile look like a falsehood.
"You could turn into a dog and jump through the window,"
Carla considered for a moment. "Well, I wouldn't. And the thought of eating something out of your refrigerator makes me queasy. I say we go for it."
"Carla, are you crazy? We can't take him out in public! God knows what he'd do!" The phouka looked achingly innocent.
"Hmm." Carla frowned and paced to the window and back. "We'll go to the New Riverside Cafe. He can do anything he wants and nobody'll notice."
"Gnnng." Eddi pulled at her hair. "Weird vegetarian eggplant food."
"Maybe they'll make you a nice Wonder Bread and Skippy sandwich," said Carla.
Eddi glared at the phouka. "Why me? What did I do to deserve you?"
The phouka looked, for once, genuinely regretful. "We cannot always choose what life brings us, or how it is brought."
"Platitude."
"There may be truth in platitudes."
"Gnnng."
"Go get a jacket," Carla scolded.
The phouka was smiling a little, and something in that smile, the tilt of his head, offered Eddi a lazy challenge. She narrowed her eyes at him and went to the bedroom.
She put on her big denim jacket and turned the collar up. "Tough girl," she said to her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and tried out a sneer. It made her feel better.
Carla's wagon was parked at the bottom of the hill that was Spruce Place. In the shadow of the apartment buildings that lined the street, the air was chilly. "Don't you need your jacket or something?" Eddi asked the phouka. The skin of his arms and shoulders was smooth as melted chocolate, without a goosepimple in sight.
"What jacket?"
"The one you had on earlier. Aren't you cold?"
He tipped his head back and laughed.
"Excuse me for asking." She wasn't really annoyed—not until they reached the car. Then she looked up from yanking open the slightly sprung passenger's side door, and found him eyeing the car, his lip curled.
"What's wrong?"
He made a face, as if he'd stepped barefoot on a dead squid.
Eddi leaned back against the car. "If you want to walk, we'll meet you there"—she smiled sweetly—"maybe."
"I . . . will not be comfortable in that."
"Gosh. I should have told Carla to bring the Mercedes."
Carla stuck her head out her door and looked at them over the roof. "Hey, Rover—we'll roll the window down, and you can ride along with your tongue out."
Eddi looked quickly back to the phouka, but he seemed to have missed the "Rover" entirely. He said only, "I would feel much better with the windows open."
It was a cold ride. The phouka sat in the back seat, and though he didn't quite lean out the window, he sat very close to it. Eddi slumped in the passenger seat, her shoulders hunched against the breeze, and whistled all that she could remember of "Won't Get Fooled Again."
Carla took the U of M West Bank exit, and said cheerfully, "Hey, you in the back seat! If you really can do magic, find us a parking space!"
"That is not one of the things I can do."
"Then what good are you?"
The phouka, to Eddi's surprise, made no reply. She turned and looked at him over the seat. He'd leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yes." He cut the word off neatly at the end.
"You don't sound like it."
What do I care?
she wondered, surprised.
The seat bumped her under the chin as the car bounced over something. Eddi turned around and found that they were lurching into the gravel lot across from Mixed Blood Theatre. "Remind me," Carla muttered, "to stay off the West Bank on a Saturday night."
"And out of downtown, and Uptown, and off of University Avenue. I always do. You always ignore me."
"Heh." Carla parked the car at the far end of the lot and flung the door open. "Look out for puddles."
Eddi, mindful of her sneakers, did. The phouka was fumbling his hands across the inside of the car door, his face tense.
"What's the matter?" Eddi asked him.
"I'm afraid I don't know how to open this." His black eyes were round, and made his little smile look like a falsehood.
"You could turn into a dog and jump through the window,"
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