Invisible: Ryne Part One *Sequel to Winged* *Completed*

4. Andrew

 © Kelly Faulk 2013

Chapter 4:  Andrew

Once we left the mall parking lot, I hoped that Wica looked more human today, showing no blue except for her eyes.  She was surely going to be surprised with our little visit.  I think she wasn’t expecting to meet Tríka until after I Changed her.  And I couldn’t help wondering if Will and Andrew decided to pay a visit before Andrew had to go to school.

Tríka didn’t know where I lived, so she let me drive her car after we dropped her things off at her house.  We could have actually walked there; it wasn’t even five minutes away.  She seemed a little hesitant when I pulled into the driveway, but I didn’t ask her why.  Instead, I placed my arm around her waist, my hand on her hip, and led her towards the door.

“Hey, Wica.  I’m home,” I called as we walked in.

“Oh, you’re home very ear…ly.  Oh.”  She was in the kitchen, fixing something for her to eat for lunch.  Thankfully, she had kept her hair blonde and her lips normal.

“Hello,” Tríka nearly whispered.

“H-Hi,” my aunt responded, almost dumbfounded.  She had every right to be.  I brought a girl home.  To meet her.  “You must be Tríka.”

She nodded

“Are Will and Andrew home?” I asked.

She shook her head, breaking herself out of her thoughts.  “No.  They’ll be here for dinner, though.  Would you like to stay, Tríka?”

She leaned in closer to me.  “Sure.”

“Let us know when dinner’s ready,” I said as I led Tríka towards my room.  That was enough for now; she’d have plenty of time to talk to her at dinner in a couple hours.

This was the first time that a girl other than Wica has been in my room.  It was actually kind of weird having Tríka here in my personal space.  She let her eyes wander around my dark, poster lined walls, and I tried to hide my blood rag before she could see it.  After it was tossed towards the open closet, I sat on my bed, and waited for her to come to me.

“Wow,” she whispered.  “This is such a drastic change from your room in the mountains.”  Clothes were scattered along the floor from me being lazy about doing the laundry, and I hadn’t cleaned up any of the random stuff I had laying around on my dresser.  But she took her time looking at all of it.

“Yeah.  I know,” I responded.   “I like dark things.  That’s why I dyed my hair.”

“That’s not your natural color?” she pondered as she sat beside me.

I shook my head, smiling.  “It’s honey blonde.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, skeptical.  “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t picture you having blonde hair.”

I softly laughed.  “My mom loved my hair, but I wanted to look more like my dad.  He had black hair, too.  She was mad at me when she saw it, but all she could do was laugh.”

“How old were you when you dyed it?”

Five.  “Almost twelve.”  Was it really that long ago?  Wica was only nineteen when I did it, and my mother was only twenty-one.  I had really lost track of time, but I couldn’t let my mind wander down that path.  “My eyes also used to be deep blue.”

It was her turn to laugh.  “I’ve got to see a picture of that.”

I went over to my dresser to get a photo album that was sitting on it.  It contained my most precious pictures of my mother, all that I had left of her besides my memories.  With the album in hand, I sat beside her again, and placed my arm around her as I opened the book on my lap.