Aj Blackbird's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

By Wednesday, Aj had counted her money twice. It was not enough. The rent was due Friday, in cash, and the landlord had made his warning plain. She sat on the floor of the small flat while the striped cat batted at the brass key. She had no job here, no savings, no time. She could think of only one door left to knock on. She hated that door. The old house stood tall and worn, with a wide porch and windows that had watched her grow up. Aj climbed the steps she'd climbed as a lonely eight-year-old. She knocked. The woman who opened it moved like a wind-up toy, stiff and slow. Curly gray hair framed her round face. This was Barbara Tart, the mother who had adopted Aj and never once let her forget the cost of it. "Well," Barbara said. Her voice ticked out flat and even. "The bird flies home when she needs feeding." Aj stayed on the step. "I need to borrow rent money. Just this once. I'll pay it back." Barbara turned and walked inside. Aj followed, because that was what she always did. The old woman opened a drawer, counted bills with clicking fingers, and set them on the table. She did not push them forward. "You can have it," Barbara said. "But you'll come back here. Give up that flat and that grocer boy. Live under my roof again, where I can watch you." She tapped the money once. "That's my price." Aj looked at the bills. She saw the whole trap in them. Take the cash, keep the flat this week, and lose everything the flat was for. Lose Will. Lose the small life she'd started. Barbara had always given with strings, and the strings always pulled Aj back into this house. "No," Aj said. Barbara's painted smile did not move. "Then you'll be on the street by Saturday. Cats and all." Aj walked out and did not stop until the porch was behind her. Her hands shook. She had no money now, and no one else to ask. But she had said no. For the first time, she had refused the price. She went straight to the fancy grocer where Will worked. He looked up from the register, his eyes shifting to green when he saw her face. She told him everything. The money. Barbara. The word she'd said. Will did not speak for a moment. Then he reached under the counter and pulled out a small brass compass and a single silver coin. He set them in her palm. "The drawer's empty," he said. "I already spent it on your rent. This is what's left of my father." Aj closed her fingers around the coin. She had escaped one trap and fallen straight into another. The flat was safe this week. But Will had just given away the last of what he owned, and she had no way left to give it back.