Night-Owl Trucking

Tuesday, 4:29am

Amity walked over to the crafts display with excitement in her step. If she were anyone else, she would have said she was skipping, but Blights weren't known for skipping—or jumping or running, for that matter—unless playing a proper, Odalia-approved sport. She frowned as she thought, Not that there was much running in fencing or tennis. She felt lighter on her feet now than she ever had on her mother's tennis court. Luz had begun to lead her toward the display, but she pulled even with her before they had crossed the front of the travel stop; the shorter girl turned to walk beside her, their hands still carefully tangled together. She made a distant mental note of tiny feet and long, swift steps and how easily the other girl seemed to move beside her as they walked. Luz was nothing if not comfortable in her own skin. Amity would have been jealous if she weren't busy panicking over the warm callused fingers caught around her own.

The shorter girl bobbed her head from side to side, humming along with the tinny music drifting down from the ancient speakers in the ceiling. Amity took a deep breath and tried to sneak a tug at the front of her t-shirt; her neck and face burned with a heat that felt like it billowed out of her collar. Am I sweating? I'm sweaty, aren't I? she felt a slow, creeping horror as she tried to catch her reflection in the rotating sunglasses display as she floated by, a subtle, surreptitious glance. I feel like I'm sweating so much.

"Me too, mi amiga, don't worry about it," Luz leaned up to assure her, giving the pale girl's hand a squeeze, "We are in the desert, after all." Amity turned horrified eyes down toward the tanned girl, and Luz gave her a timid grin, "Although it's usually pretty cool out when the sun's down?"

Amity blinked, then, "What."

"You were, uh, thinking out loud."

"What."

"Yeah, something about feet?" the brown-eyed girl giggled. "It happens to me too sometimes," Luz gave her a sympathetic twist of her lips and patted her elbow. "Especially when I'm holding hands with a pretty girl," she added confidentially.

"You think I'm pretty?" the golden-eyed girl asked with a soft, astonished voice.

Luz blinked and glanced up at her, amused. "Uh, yeah. Where have you been?" the brown-haired girl tilted her head with a breathy chuckle and shrugged, "But hey, don't change the subject—what was that about feet?" Luz snorted and made a quick dancing shuffle-step to draw their attention to her dusty black and white hi-tops, "Yours or mine is what I'm wondering, and—"

Amity groaned, "Kill me."

"Nope!" Luz grinned.

"Just— put me out of my misery, please," Amity begged as she squeezed her eyes closed.

"Nah, cuz then you wouldn't get ta' see the arts 'n' craaaaffffts," Luz teased in a sing-song voice while she tugged at her fingers, and Amity grudgingly allowed the smaller girl to guide her in a gentle turn. Amity sighed and opened her eyes when Luz squeezed her forearm and whispered, Open sez-a-me, and the taller girl let out a soft breath of wonder as she looked down at the display case before her.

A brightly lit glass cabinet at her waist held long trays of brilliantly colored necklaces: electric blue turquoise, polished red and yellow stones, painted bone, or smoothed-down pieces of frosted-black glass in patterns on rugged brown cord. Some of the necklaces had small pieces of shining silver along the strands and larger worked centerpieces. One had a trio of silver feathers, bound together with a thin gold wire. One had a silver dreamcatcher, its braided silver netting decorated with small, colorful stones. Others had large pieces of polished turquoise on silver medallions, or silver disks stamped with turtles, buffalo, or eagles. A few had a strange stylized figure of a man playing a flute.