okay?” I asked.
She seemed a little out of it. She stared back at me, and asked, “Why?”
“Eh?”
“Didn't you hate me?” She looked puzzled again.
I didn't get it, but I couldn't leave that man to handle those boys all by himself, so I put her on a bench in front of the station, which seemed safe enough, told her to wait for me, and hurried back.
But halfway there a hand grabbed me from behind.
I turned around, and it was the young man.
“Hey,” he said, smiling. There was not a scratch on him. No dirt. . . not even so much as a wrinkle on his crisp white suit. Who was this guy?!
“Are. . . you okay?!”
“Yeah, it's all taken care of. I doubt they'll bother you again,” he said airily.
I gaped at him. I'd been gone less than two or three minutes. And there'd been five of them.
“Umm, y-you. . .”
“I think you ought to worry more about her than me. How's she doing?”
“Um, I don't. . .”
“Better hurry back. The girl's much less secure than she looks. Her roots and stem have merged, and you can't tell them apart. Plus, she's got very few leaves and just a hardened bud in place of a flower.”
He'd lost me completely. All I could manage was a dumbfounded, “What?”
“It's not important. If she says horrible things to you, I wouldn't pay too much attention. That's the trick for getting along with her. Bye.” Leaving this further cryptic comment behind him, the man in white turned and walked away.
I stood there stunned for a moment, but soon collected myself, and hurried back to the girl.
She was sitting in exactly the same position as I'd left her, with both hands on the front of the jacket, holding it closed.
“-- Um, are you feeling better?” I asked rather stupidly, unable to think of anything else.
“. . . . . . . .” She didn't answer.
I didn't know what to do, but now that I thought about it, she had effectively rescued me, so I said, “Uh, th-thanks. For, uh. . . for back there.”
“Why?” she asked, looking up at me. She looked puzzled again.
Man, I couldn't get this conversation rolling at all.
“Well, you saved me, didn't you?” I said, smiling hopefully.
Her eyes widened, then for some reason she looked down, and mumbled, “. . . I thought you hated me.”
“Hunh?” I gaped back at her. “Why? Why would I hate you?”
“I can't be hated by anyone. Not by any normal humans,” she said oddly intense. Her eyes were serious.
“. . . I don't hate you.”
“But you glared at me. . .” she said, very sadly.
“I did? Oh. . . but that wasn't about you. I just was angry with myself, so. . . I. . . I mean. . .” I stumbled, trying to clear things up.
Still looking at the ground, she whispered, “I'm sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing? It's all my fault! I was worried that you hated me!”
She looked up. “-- Why?”
“I mean, that was pretty pathetic back there, right? That's why I was angry at myself. Nothing to do with you. I was so angry because I was sure you hated me.” The more I babbled, the more pathetic I came across.
She quietly watched me flail about, but said nothing.
“And then because I couldn't make up my mind, you. . .” I trailed off, shoulders slumping. “But it's over now. I'll pay for your clothes. Um. . .”
I reached for my wallet, and remembered that the reason I'd been heading for the station in the first place was that I had no money and needed to swing by an ATM.
“Ugh, crap. ..the ATM's already closed. . . !”
“Don't worry about money. I have some,” she answered as she stood up.
“But I can't just do nothing. . .”
“Really. If you could lend me this jacket. . . I'll give it back.”
“Oh, no -- take it! But that doesn't really pay you back at all. . . could you at least give me your address? Or phone number? I'll call you later and I’ll pay you for the clothes then. . .”
“. . . . . . . .” She stared at me levelly. I was taller than her, so she had to look up at me slightly. It