Chapter 5 Mitchell

“I was a stray too.”

Mitchell's smile is so warm and inviting that it comforts me after witnessing what is probably going to turn into a murder. My eyes sting a bit, and I don't really have the energy to tell him that I doubt I could be called a "stray." I didn't spend any time wandering around in this world like he probably did seeing things like what just happened down below us or being threatened like he probably had been.

"So you're Neutral?" He asks while quietly ignoring my struggle.

"I was." I dab at my eyes with the palm of my hand.

"Sorry. It takes a lot of getting used to." Mitchell looks around nervously over his shoulder, but in a casual manner that could almost go unnnoticed by someone not standing next to him. "I grew up in a village myself. My mom died when I was 14 though, and no one wanted to take me in. So they kicked me out."

What in the world do you say to that? "What did you do?"


"I got lucky." He smiles at me again, a little awkwardly like any one of the dorkier boys at school talking to any other girl. "Angel saved me. I didn't really spend that much time out there being a stray. That was luck. But then," Mitchell looks down at the people below us, "I've always felt a little guilty about that to be honest."

I'm about to ask him for more detail when I hear another ruckus down below us. Afraid of what it could be, I step back this time, almost ready to cling to Mitchell in solidarity and support. There's a lot of screaming, some laughs, and angry yelling that jumbles up so that it's impossible to know exactly what I'm hearing.

Mitchell keeps looking over the side intently watching what's going on in a way that makes me wonder about his own guilt he confessed to a moment before. "It's Brandon."

"Brandon?" It's like a magic word. Anything Brandon's involved in can't be as bad as what happened earlier.


I quickly step to the railing and look down to see the girl and Brandon walking away. She looks all right; Brandon must have gotten there just in time. Then the guy who fought for her earlier comes after them, but Brandon turns around then. There's some large spots of blood on Brandon's tank, but they aren't from the girl. He moves quickly, so that I hardly see him hit the guy, knocking him to the ground with one punch. The guy has blood on his face, pouring from his nose I'd guess where Brandon probably hit him more than once. It's probably his blood on Brandon's tank.


The guy struggles to get up, but it's clear that the fight is over. Brandon walks the girl away.

I glance up at Mitchell who's smiling now like someone told a good joke.

"I know the guy deserved it. Brandon doesn't do stuff like that without reason. Angel says he gets a lot of shit for it from Jimmy and Mr. Smith."

"For saving people?"


"Yeah. But he does it anyway." Mitchell puts his hands on his hips, his smile fading slightly but still present. "So why'd the Neutrals kick you out?"

I'm shaking a bit like I've just been on a roller coaster ride. Mitchell is so calm about it that it's surreal. In any other circumstance it might be calming for me to have someone near by to distract me, but here in this strange place, it's unnerving. I can hardly believe what I've seen. "Uh..." Should I even tell him my story as short as it is and as many holes as I still feel it has?


"Sorry," Mitchell says looking a little guiltily at me. "You don't have to tell me. I mean we just met and I'm all being nosey and digging into your past. I forget that it's not an easy thing to share. Know any good jokes?"

My hands hold onto the railing helping me to hold steady because my other instinct is to give Mitchell a great big hug. He's so normal in a way that even Brandon doesn't seem to be. Brandon's friendly, but those flashes of maturity worry me. Like he's dealing with more than I know. It's nice to stand next to someone who is probably going to be the closest to understanding exactly what I am going through. An equal. Someone who could easily become a good friend.

I smile gratefully at him. We stand still trading jokes that neither one of us can fully appreaciate, but still laughing anyway just because we need to.

“Well, lunch is soon," He finally says. "I’ve got to make lunch for Angel. I'm thinking maybe some salad today. What're you gonna make Brandon? He's gonna be hungry when he gets back.”

"Uh, I don't know. So far he's done all the cooking." I try to laugh a little, even as odd as it feels with all my nerves tingling and numb at he same time. "I guess he's worried that I might break something."


Mitchell looks at me blankly. “He makes you food?” The way he says it makes it sound unheard of and almost criminal.

“Is that weird?”

“Well, um, yeah. To be honest. But I’d better go. Maybe next time I can share lunch with you. If Angel says its okay.” He waves with a small smile before he walks back to his apartment.





When Brandon comes home, I'm on the couch reading one of his few books as slowly as possible, savouring each word and taking my time to imagine every detail the author takes effort in creating.

He doesn't have his shirt on. "Hey." There's a somberness to his greeting that makes me sit up as he walks past me into the bedroom.


It's then I see the tattoo fully. So far it's been covered up by his shirts, though if I think about it, I remember seeing it peeking through his tank this morning. It's large and intricate. I've noticed the other tattoos without fully paying attention. Everyone has them on their backs in some way or another. Some have just the skulls, some have the skulls with designs around them, but I've seen very few as large and intricate as Brandon's. Except that man in the car with my father and me.

He comes out of the bedroom with another shirt on. "So what would you like for lunch?"

I move from the sofa to the chair at the table, following him into the kitchen. "Anything." As Brandon starts making food, I can't help wondering if I should help.


Brandon glances up at me, one corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "You're wondering if you should help, right? No. You might break something. I can tell."

I laugh in shock. Are we that much alike we make the same jokes or do I really look like that much of a hazard? "Is it weird that you cook for us? Shouldn't I start doing that for you? I mean, if you're going to be training everyday it only seems fair."

Brandon hands me a plate with a sandwich and sits down with me at the small table. "You're my sister. What Mitchell and Angel have is something completely different."

That worries me. Mitchell seemed so nice, very gentle and a little awkward. Like any boy I might have met at school. "How?"


"Angel keeps Mitchell around for more reasons than one, if you know what I mean." I sit there blankly waiting for something to magically enlighten me. "They have something of a... relationship."

Then it clicks. Like a concubine that cooks and cleans. Mitchell said he got lucky. That's lucky? It disheartens me that being someone's slave, in more ways than one, is considered lucky. Suddenly I am absolutely exhausted, and I don't want to ask the other questions on my mind for fear of the answers I'll get.

"So did you hear about the no legged dog?" I ask suddenly, needing to lighten the mood.

"What?" It's Brandon's turn to look at me blankly.

"He doesn't come when you call, but he stays like nobody's business."

Brandon laughs, a small laugh that really does sound like music today. "You're weird, kid."

"Hey, Mom always said, don't be afraid to be who you are."


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