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“That’s not true,” she said. “Next.”
“I love sci-fi. Like old movies from the seventies and stuff.”
She wrinkled her nose. “So you’re a super geek. Duly noted.”
“Your music gives me a headache.”
She screwed up her face in confusion. “Mymusic?”
I touched the earbud hanging from her pocket. “I can hear it when you wear these. Too much bass and drums for me.”
She pretended to be horrified. “We obviously can’t be friends.”
“What a waste of a bus ticket. Oh, check it out.” I pointed out the window. “Up that way is the hospital. The other bus goes past it. There’s a gym and a swimming pool past that. We need to get off in… three more stops, right outside a veritable geeky wonderland.”
She looked puzzled, so I clarified. “A comic book shop. Not one that sells mostly posters. I mean, retro stuff. You’ll love it.”
She didn’t look convinced, so I knew I had to talk up the place some more. By the time we got off the bus, she looked ready to go home.
I hesitated outside the shop. “We don’t have to go in.”
“Are you kidding me?” She nudged me. “I need to see what all the fuss is about.”
Anxiety gripped me. The place meant a lot to me, but seeing it through her eyes, it did kind of smell like sweat and must. And maybe there was no good stuff. And maybe…
She was already through the door, hadn’t even waited for me. I took a deep breath, followed her in, then waved at the cashier who knew me by name. Margo took her time, wandering around the sections, her hand hovering as though she wanted to touch the plastic covers of the rarest comics.
She found her way to the more modern stand and looked at a couple of comics before stopping short. She lifted one up and stared at the girl on the cover with silver hair and eyes.
“That’s one of my favourites,” I said with a smile. “Guess it’s no surprise why I’m into you, right?”
She looked up at me in surprise. “You think I look like this?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re reality. Somebody drew her, but you remind me of her a lot.”
She looked at the cover again, her mouth moving as though she wanted to say something. “But she’s a hero. And she’s beautiful.”
I laughed. “Thisis what freaks you out?”
“It’s just…” She bit her lip. “Girls in magazines and stuff… they never look like me. I always wanted to look like them, but…” She ran her finger across the cover. “She’s so… I don’t know.”
I touched her shoulder gently, confused by her words. “But, Margo,you’rebeautiful.”
She gazed at the image. “But what if I’m not a hero?”
It took me a second to realise she was conflicted about herself, about her secret. And I understood that because if more people knew about werewolves, they probably wouldn’t see us as heroes. Maybe her secret was just as questionable as mine.
I leaned closer to her. “But what if you are?”
She sucked in a breath, pressed the comic against her chest, then spun on her heel.
“What are you doing?”
She shot a cheerful look over her shoulder. “Buying it. Duh.”
She paid for the comic, and when we went outside, she slipped her hand in mine and held on. I no longer cared that I didn’t understand what was happening between us. I just held on, too.
* * *
