The single room apartment held a queen-size four-post canopy bed that dominated the open space outside the kitchen. Heavy blackout blinds ringed the canopy, now pulled up and tied off with velvet ropes.
"No coffin?" It was the first time Flat had been over and not distracted by other things. The two drank coffee at the kitchen table to hold off the last of the early spring cold. They waited together for sunrise.
"Never. My brothers would lock my coffin. And the cell service is terrible," Marie said.
"Your brothers are humans?"
"I'm the only vampire in the family. My grand mother Nonna Capelli was the last before me. She grew up in Naples.”
"Florida seems like a lot of sun for a vampire," Flat said.
"Italy. She married my grandfather after the war. The family’s been in Charlotte ever since.” She ran her fingers through Flats hair. “Let me cut your hair.”
"My hair?" Flat said.
"Didn't you get slammed into a wall by your hair?"
"I got shot too," Flat said.
Long hair had turned into a liability as a hero. As Flat’s diet improved her hair had grown a foot longer than last summer. From Doctor Ford's book, difficulties getting a haircut was one of the first indication of being a baseline. Flat had seldom had it cut and worn her hair long and straight or in a ponytail. A look she had gotten use to seeing in the mirror.
"Cut it," Flat said.
Marie smiled and bounded away to get her comb and scissors. Flat sat in the kitchen chair with the chair cloth tied around her neck. And pulled the comb through the hair. "Do you trust me?" Marie said.
"Go ahead.” No turning back now.
As the scissors closed, the hair slipped off like steel wire. The scissors soon became gouged with burs and nicks. Marie dulled two pairs of scissors. "Your hair is tough.”
"You don't cut baseline hair?" Flat said.
Marie set the scissors down on the table. "No, my clients are vampires and ghouls. Baselines go to Tony in Atlanta.”
"Atlanta? For a haircut?" Flat said.
"Yep. You and that girl from Salem-Winston are the only two female baselines in the Southern states," Marie said.
"I have to see her in a few weeks," Flat said.
"Wait just a minute." Marie left for a moment to rummage under the bed. She returned with long, thin silver scissors etched with ornate ivy scrollwork.
"These scissors were made in Álfheim and enchanted," Marie said.
Flat could hear the blades sing with the cut.
"You have plus-one scissors?" Flat said.
"I worked with a skin changer at the night salon. She goes back to Álfheim from time to time to stock up on skin care products. That stuff works like magic.”
"Because it’s magic," Flat said. The scissors cut the hair cleanly.
Marie trimmed the hair into a bob cut, with the right side bangs long enough for a clip. She placed a treble clef hair clip over Flat's right eye.
"That's how I want you to look," Marie tussled Flat’s hair.
"I look like a boy," Flat said. She ran her hand over her neck; now she could feel the cool air.
"No, you look like Felicity Fisher and you need to get used to seeing yourself with short hair.”
"Crested said the State keeps us as child soldiers. Now with short hair. It kind of hits home," Flat said.
Marie hugged her. "You'll be fine.”
Marie had set the hair in four-foot strands on the table. As Flat watched, Marie braided a bracelet, then a belt. "This will hold up better than any leather belt we can get.” She fixed the ends of the belt with epoxy to a brass buckle and tip.
"Kind of creepy," Flat said.
Marie fit the bracelet to her wrist. "I'm a vampire.”
On the night of the Prom, as the sun went down, Gyaru walked through the third floor in chaos. Every year, Gyaru thought.
Maple and Colby tried to organize things, but Gyaru could smell the anxiety. Small disasters added to it; one girl burnt her hair with a crimper, and another somehow swallowed eyeliner.
As Gyaru walked back to Room six, she felt magic. A caped figure climbed into the window, hefting a tackle box. It was Marie; she left the opera cloak on the couch and stepped into the hallway.
"Who goes down first?" Marie said.
"Mama Bear," Gyaru said.
"Go get her." Marie opened the tackle box full of cosmetics.
Gyaru watched the vampire girl give a crash course in makeup to the second years. They pulled chairs into the hallway. The girls each waited a turn.
We might get through this yet, Gyaru thought.
Becca Kent also known as Puddles left Room Four to the busy third-floor hallway as girls were getting ready. Puddles had volunteered that night for the communications center. Someone had to be around to answer the phone. Down in the basement, she relieved Susan. The only middle school student trusted with communication duties.
Susan handed Puddles the house phone. "911 is the emergency number.”
"I know," Puddles said.
"And 119 activates the Bananas Protocol.”
"What’s that?" Puddles said.
"All the Robo-Gorillas will activate to curb stomp anyone, not in a school uniform," Susan said with a smile.
"Like everyone upstairs at the dance?"
"Oh. Ah. Ah. Yeah. We may need to rethink the protocol. Don’t use 119. Anyway. As long as you stay on campus, the phone will work," Susan said.
After Susan left, Puddles slipped into the night with the house phone to look at the stars. As the activities started, she watched from the outside through the Grand Atrium windows. She enjoyed the silence of the night and was glad to be away from the party.
The first and second years waited at the sides of the stairs as the procession began. Mama Bear walked down the stairs first, dressed in a metallic gold evening gown; Coach Fly waited for her at the bottom. The two walked into the dining room. The band in black tuxedo dresses followed Mama Bear. Band was the only way for an underclassmen to attend the prom.
The junior and senior girls proceeded one at a time. A boy from North waited for them. If not a formal date they were paired by lottery and they had to stay together for the first dance.
The Mean Girls came down last. Flat was with the band and officially didn’t have a date. So she was skipped. Without Go-Go at the Prom, Crested would be number two. She bounded down the stairs in dazzling white, embarrassed with the attention. Bernard waited for her at the last step. He made her look even smaller.
Vincent walked to the stairs in a fitted tuxedo as Gyaru walked down in a bright red evening gown; the silk flowed like gossamer. The leg slit revealed black silk stockings with each step.
I’ll be there next year, Puddles thought as she cut through the building down a quiet hallway to the back of the school. She stopped at a bench by the dining room Windows. She wanted to see the first dance.
Vincent walked out on stage next to Maple. She handed him the microphone. "Is everyone having a good time?” Everyone clapped and cheered. “I'm dedicating the first dance to Barbra Yamamoto.” Maple turned the spotlight on Gyaru; the light hit her mid-blush, hands covered her mouth.
"And to embarrass her further. Well, rumors have gone about for years. People ask what happens on the night of the full moon?" Hoots and laughter filled the dance floor.
"Don't you dare!" Gyaru said.
"Love you Babs.” Vincent jumped down from the stage in front of Gyaru as she turned to walk away from him.
"Bandleader. The music." Vincent raising his hand. Gyaru stopped as the Tango started to play. She stomped her foot and turned back to Vincent. He held out his hand as Gyaru walked up to him. They started the Tango.
"My reputation," Gyaru face flushed red.
"You’re a ballroom dancer. It’s scandalous," Vincent said.
The stars were out that evening. Puddles relaxed on the bench and liquefied. Her eyes floated on top, looking at the sky. Then Puddles saw the shadows move. Her eyes lifted from the jellied mass on pillars of her skin. It was tricky because her eyes were her one vulnerable spot. And it was hard to get a focus using both at once as was her habit. It became clear as she closed one eye. Four figures dressed in all black, sneaked along the bushes. Ninjas?
Puddles pulled herself together but stayed low to the ground; her body flowed over the grass, moving without noise. The Ninjas split into pairs. Two ran off around the other side, and the two watched in the window. Puddles came up from behind.
Her left arm wrapped around the first Ninja's neck in a bow hitch to shut down blood flow. The second Ninja turned around as the first dropped. Fingers hit the Ninja's mask, slipped under it, and into his nose. Puddle's hand flowed into the sinus, and she made a fist. The Ninja dropped to the ground in pain. A knife uselessly stabbed her. She held him blocking his airway until he passed out. She pulled herself back together. With both ninjas zip-cuffed, she wiped her hand in the grass. Puddles hated to use the secret attack. It was disgusting.
The door to the mop closet opened. Four naked men were tied up inside. Vincent, Bernard, Gyaru, and Crested looked at them.
"Becca? You're into this?" Vincent said pointing.
Gyaru jabbed him with her elbow.
"This is how you lock up Ninjas. Tied up naked in an empty room, or they escape. I read it in a comic book," Puddle said.
"Why are they here?" Crested said.
"I found these," Puddles said.
She held out pictures of Gyaru and Crested. Long-range photos taken on film and State ID photos. She also showed the heavy zip ties, Ninja swords, and silver-plated handcuffs. Bernard looked through the pictures, then handed off the Gyarus to Vincent. He pocketed the photos of Crested.
A deep growl rolled in Bernard’s chest. A massive hand reached down to the four men. Vincent took a step back and pulled Gyaru by the elbow with him. But Crested grabbed Bernard’s wrist with both hands.
"No. Please. No," Crested said with a softer rasp to her voice.
Bernard met her eyes and the growl stopped. He picked Crested up to hold her on his arm. They walked her back to the dance.
Vincent watched them leave. "That could have been bad.”
"What was that about?" Puddles said.
"Bernard grew up with Poppy and Blossom," Vincent said.
"Blossom?" Puddles said.
Gyaru pulled out her phone, hidden in a thigh wrap, and dialed. "Her sister, that disappeared. Time to put an end to this." The phone clicked. "Hey, Girl meet me down at." Gyaru looked at the nearest door number. "Door One Forty Two.” Misty appeared in a puff.
"What's up?" Misty said.
"Ninjas." Puddles Showed Misty the four men.
"I do not care who sent them or why. Get these assholes out of my Prom," Gyaru said.
"I could send them to Cleveland."
"We're not that angry," Vincent said.
"Ninjas? Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo?" Misty smiled. She looked at her phone. "And it's lunchtime."
"Do it," Gyaru said. The Ninjas were gone in a puff of mist.
"Now I want Ramen," Gyaru said.
"I'm in for Ramen," Misty said. "But Tokyo is out. Maybe we could go to Oarai or Kumamoto?"
"Kumamoto. I've been to Oarai its nice but Kumamoto has basashi. I want to try it," Gyaru said.
Vincent looked at his watch. "I'll pass on the daylight and the horse meat. You girls could get some carry out if you want. I'll dance with Maple.”
"Have at it," Gyaru said. The three girls were gone in a puff of mist.
Half an hour later, Puddles and Misty sat on the bench to watch the stars. Both had a ninja sword and silver plated handcuffs. In the window Flat played the maracas and led the conga line around the auditorium. The two girls waited for the Ramen bowls to cool.
20,000 feet
Somewhere over the Great Smokey Mountains.
A ginger and gray-haired man with cybernetic eyes sat at a mahogany desk. He wore a nit wool turtle neck sweater and a white captain's hat; the gold braids and wreath of the cap had dulled over time. The white had been stained with smoke, fire, and blood. A hat that had seen too much and could never be cleaned. The office windows showed clouds flowing past and tree-covered mountains in the distance. A flight of Canadian geese could be seen flying south.
The monitor on his desk connected him to the world. What once required a staff of hundreds, mountains of paperwork, and endless hours, he could do in an afternoon. He scrolled through the internet, search alerts, and hundreds of keywords represented opportunities.
A woman walked in with a serving tray. She wore an airship uniform, a black sailor top, and pants with white trim. Two holes had been cut in her crewman's cap for her ears. In gold letters, the tally ribbon that wrapped the headband said 'Gneisenau.' A brown-furred cat tail came out of the back of her uniform. Two locks of hair stuck out on each side of the cap, one brown and the other white. She was a short, stocky cat girl.
The Woman set a saucer and cup on the desk. The brew she poured filled the room with the smell of coffee and anise.
"Danke," the man with the cybernetic eyes said. She left the coffee pot and tray on the desk to step back.
He clicked a video link. A young blond girl popped on the screen, smiling. She was as loud as the shirt she wore. 'Sparkle' written in rainbow colors across her chest.
"Hello, I'm Bobbie Hope. A new hero for a new millennium. And I will sparkle!" Hope said.
He tapped the screen to stop the video. He had seen enough. He knew this kind of person. She would do nicely.
"Tabitha, tell the woman when she is up, that we have a new project," the man with the cyber eyes said.
"Jawohl Kapitän," Tabatha said.
The End of Broken Girls
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