Gargoyles Fan Fiction ❯ Of The Night ❯ One More Bad Day ( Chapter 5 )

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Of The Night

Five

A few hours after dawn – which was roughly Lydia’s scheduled bedtime these days – she was offered a room in the “castle” section of the building to sleep in. Inspecting it, she found, was nothing short of miraculous.

But not so much in the “that’s amazing” way, as opposed to the “there’s definitely something up here” kind of way.

The room itself was half the size of her apartment, hardly big enough to fit the bed and wardrobe stuffed inside (and this counted as the first time she’d seen a wardrobe up close. . .and in use). The fact that the room itself seemed to be ready for use rose her suspicions, though only slightly. After all, rich people tended to waste money on keeping their homes neat regardless of whether or not that particular room was being used.

So she inspected the wardrobe, just to be sure. She found it filled with quite a few items – clothes, of course, but also shoes, gloves, jewelry, hair accessories and a large makeup kit. She was slightly weirded out by it all, fighting with herself to take a glimpse at the size tags for the clothes and shoes.

Her eye twitched as she came to the realization that she’d been expected to stay here. Everything here was her size, or close to it. There were even undergarments – a dozen bras, all in different sizes and colors, and a choice of regular undies or thongs.

She laughed outright. There was no way she was going to torture her nethers with a slingshot.

As it was, however, she was still wearing her pajamas from the previous evening, albeit underneath the borrowed clothes handed over by the police. She made a mental note to return them, and considered whether or not to wash them first.

Might as well, she reasoned with herself. They’ll probably just get DNA evidence off it anyhow.

As soon as she crawled into the bed to sleep, she didn’t feel so untrusting of the Xanatoses. It was easily the most comfortable she’d ever been in, which wasn’t saying much considering she just had the one she grew up on and the one in her apartment. Even so, with the comforter’s warmth doing its magic, it wasn’t difficult in the least to drift off to sleep.

When she woke up, the clock heralded the time at 6:30. Not long till dusk, and way too late. She overslept her usual by two hours! Her work started at nine, ended at four, and was quite a walk away. Being the type of girl she was, she refused taxi services most of the time and never got on a bus. Her bike and roller blades got her where she needed to go plenty quickly (even if she had to cut through traffic to do it).

But she had neither here, and it was Monday. At least she still had a while to play with the wardrobe.

She hadn’t gotten much of a look at the clothes earlier, which left a lot to be discovered. Specifically just how much she liked what she found. Being a kind of punkish, rock-music-loving, back talking youth like the majority of her generation, the clothes were to her taste. For instance, vests, fingerless gloves, belts, zippers, and lots of pants. In fact there were few skirts -- not that she disliked them, but it was note-worthy.

And military boots to top it off? She was starting to love this place. Damn, but the rich people knew how to live. Then again, they probably cheated, blackmailed, and stole most of it. Didn’t they all?

She chose a selection quickly, included the makeup kit, and took it all to the bathroom. She was also happy to find the number of hair-styling products sitting on the counter. With her hair at the length it was, there wasn’t much she could do with it, but there was something she’d been wanting to try. . .

And, hell, if you’re going to make a ruckus one way, might as well make a ruckus every other way, right?

Long ago, she learned a little something about how to manage time, how to get things done as quickly as possible. Without it, she’d still be in high school right now. She applied this knowledge to her best ability, and in a little more than half an hour, she had showered, dressed, and made herself up.

Only a little of the castle’s setup was in her mind, but it was enough to get her to the dining room, with its big, arching doorway to the outdoors. She had to descend the stairs to get to it, catching a muffled conversation as she went. Seems like the sun had set already, being earlier October (and she bet the gargoyles loved winter, with its longer nights).

“Actually the world record is thirteen thousand, fifty three jumps consecutively, and it took seventeen hours,” she told them, overhearing that (for some reason) the subject was jump ropes. She thought it was such a trivial thing to talk about, but then, it was probably very quaint, being able to talk about nonsense without a care.

Six heads looked over at her and Bronx lumbered over, whining, as she made it all the way down the steps. Elisa wasn’t here, she saw, and the whole clan was seated around the table. It amused her, how normal they looked, just eating breakfast -- after dark.

“You knew that?” Lex asked, seeming surprised.

“Nope,” she answered honestly, smiling. “Sounded convincing though, didn’t it?”

A few laughs were her reward for the joke, even as she knew they were all at least a little bit startled. After all, she was wearing all black -- vest, pants with laces up the sides, boots, and wrist straps -- with her hair going every which-way (thank you, hair gel!), black eyeshadow and red lipstick. Even her nails were done with that theme in mind, painted red, except that she’d wiped the tips off so they were only half red.

“What’s with you?” Brooklyn asked, breaking the momentary stun that seemed to hold everyone.

She shrugged as she approached the table, flipping a chair around so she could straddle it. “Just messing around. Surely you’ve heard of little girls playing dress-up before?” she teased.

“Well, yeah, but --”

“Yer not goin’ to work like that, are ye?” Hudson said, asking the one question everyone wanted to know. She was actually a little surprised they all knew she had a job, but she supposed either Elisa or Brooklyn had shared.

“Oh, Hell no,” she laughed, rolling a muffin between her hands. “If I showed up like this, I’d be fired faster than -- than the lion who got a job at the Chicken Factory.”

Although this brought up chuckles, Broadway piped up with, “How would a lion get a job at a Chicken Factory?”

She couldn’t help a smile. “It’s an analogy,” she told him. “And clearly his job would be taste-testing.”

“Clearly,” Brooklyn agreed, laughing. “Which would be how he got fired.”

“And on his first day,” she continued. “Management really should’ve known better.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” Broadway interrupted.

“They’re just joking,” Lex told him. “Besides, they’re wrong. He’d have a job mopping.”

“He doesn’t have opposable thumbs,” Lydia point out.

Though he was smiling, Goliath was also shaking his head. His thoughts were almost audible: Those teenagers.

Well, that might have been wholly true, if she had any idea how old Brooklyn and the guys were. Or if they aged at all liked humans did. She added it to the list of questions she wanted to ask Brooklyn later.

“Lydia,” Angela spoke up, “when does your job start?”

“Nine. If my numbers are right, I have an hour before I have to get going,” Lydia answered.

“One of us could always fly you there. It’d save you time,” the other lady offered.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted.

“Don’t bother,” Xanatos’ voice came as he entered through another doorway.

“Quick question,” she interrupted, before he could go on. “Do you always join in a conversation as you enter the room, without saying ‘hello’ first?”

“Do you?” he shot back.

“It’s kinda fun, yeah,” she agreed. “Except I’m usually bullshitting. What are we not bothering to do?” she asked, referring to his earlier statement. She didn’t notice the surprised looks she got for swearing.

“Don’t bother getting ready for work.” Was it just her, or did he look like he had bad news?

She clenched her jaw, already knowing where this was going. “Lemme guess. . .”

“They fired you,” he said with regret, “as soon as the police showed up to question your coworkers about you. They don’t want somebody with a criminal record on the payroll --”

Her head hit the table. She could already see herself behind bars, at this rate. And all because police liked to chase her, because she had the instinct to run? She mumbled into the tablecloth. Suddenly her muffin (only missing two bites) didn’t look so appealing.

“I could take it to court for you,” he offered.

She lifted her head with a mocking, “Don’t bother.”

He relented. Everyone else was still silent.

But the fact that he still stood there peaked her attention. “Well, I was asleep a whole ten hours. What other bad news do you have for me?”

“Since I was the one who paid your bail, I was contacted --”

“Cut to the chase.”

“You’re remanded to this building until your court date,” he finished abruptly. He looked annoyed, but that was fine; she was annoyed, too.

“How did you manage that?” Lex asked.

“I vouched for her,” Xanatos explained simply.

Lydia rose, muffin in hand, and headed out to the courtyard. Anybody could see she wasn’t happy -- and they all did.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad,” Brooklyn tried.

“Yeah, this place is great,” Lex added.

“You’re free to explore the whole building,” Xanatos told her.

She snorted. “I can see the appeal,” she said mainly to the older man, “but a magnificent prison is still a prison.” She didn’t bother with trying to keep the disdain from her voice. So much for her good mood about hanging out with gargoyles and having new clothes to play with -- it all went dull after losing her job and getting confined all in less than ten hours.

“Lydia. . .” she heard Brooklyn say.

“Not now,” was her answer. “Eat your food.”

“What about you?”

She lifted her muffin before going around the corner, out of sight. Muffled voices followed her as she went, talking quietly to each other. She could recognize who was speaking, but not what was said. In the end, she decided it didn’t matter. Later, when she was a bit calmer, she would ask Brooklyn about it.

The question now was what would happen next. It was a jinxed question, she knew; but it still begged to be asked. She had a wild vision of a helicopter approaching to blow the castle to bits and blamed all those stories she’d heard from Brooklyn for it.

Biting down on her muffin to hold it in place, she took a run for the wall ahead of her, knowing she could scale it. That was the great thing about having spent many nights in this place, as well as her natural observant habits: she had time to scout and plan. Escape routes again. It was a burden to always be worrying when next she’d have to run, but at the same time, infinitely helpful when those times came.

And useful in times like this, when she just wanted to get to higher ground the quickest way possible.

The boots she wore helped her climb, taking less effort than usual. She sat on the wall once she was up there, chewing on her muffin. She wasn’t hungry, really; rather, she was forcing herself to eat to remain healthy. After all, she was tiny -- if she was malnourished as well, she would hardly be able to take care of herself.

“Five foot three,” she murmured to herself. “Jesus, I’m small.” The new direction of her thoughts wasn’t improving her mood any, despite the distraction. With a sigh, she laid out on the wall, which was a little hard given the setup. Lucky she had such good balance -- when she concentrated. She stared up at the sky now, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

One thing was certain: she was going to lose her apartment. She had enough money stashed away to keep paying the $300 rent for another year, but she couldn’t see that helping any if she were in prison. Or juvy; how exactly did it work for emancipated minors?

She had to laugh at herself. All those books she read, all that research she did, all that time and effort spent -- and she didn’t know too much about emancipation. She might as well be wearing a dunce cap. The irony of it kind of burned.

She wasn’t going to stay here. Sure, the building was huge and there was infinite resources, but it’s like she said: a magnificent prison is still a prison. If she had to sneak out and flee from her court date, so be it. Why not? She’d taken care of herself for seventeen years, made it when logically she shouldn’t. She could do it again.

And again and again, if she had to. It’s not like she had strong connections to this city.

A vision of the gargoyles came to mind, Elisa in the picture too, with Brooklyn in front. She shut her eyes, hoping to dispell the image. She shouldn’t have ever come back here. A girl like her, with such a chaotic lifestyle, should never have friends. She never did before. But what was done, was done.

One by one, her reasons and plans for leaving the city were thrown out.