Lunatic Fringe (29 page)

The story seemed to be over. Archer
fell silent, letting the words of her story echo and die. Lexie
wondered how often she’d told it and felt privileged and oppressed
to be included in that number.

The treehouse glowed like a golden
cathedral, glorious in the afternoon sun. Nothing, save the living
roof of cedar needles, separated their bodies from the rays peering
down upon them. For a few precious minutes every afternoon, the
sunlight glanced off the creek below, casting shimmering
reflections against the canopy above their heads. Both Lexie and
Archer lay naked on the fleece, watching them undulate overhead, a
plate of fruit, dried meats and cheeses between them.

They had spent every afternoon this
way, since their first morning in the treehouse together. In that
time, Archer had shared many stories with Lexie, about her time on
the road, bits about her life in Milton years ago, and her travels
abroad. Lexie marveled that she had grown up so near to Archer and
wondered if they had ever crossed paths when she was younger. This
was the first time, though, that Archer had told her this
story.

“
So, you’ve looked exactly
the same for . . .”

“
A hundred seventy-five
years? Yep,” Archer replied, her right cheek dimpled with a wry
grin. “Well, almost. Age is catching up with me now.”

“
You got to choose your
gender? Are you not actually female?”

“
Hermaphrodite,” Archer
answered, popping a grape into her mouth. “Gender differentiation
for my people happens later in life, during puberty, but even then,
it’s not nearly as defined as with humans.”

“
Whoa,” Lexie said. “Does
this mean I’m not a lesbian?” She was only half-kidding.

“
What do you think?” Archer
asked.

“
I don’t know what I
am.”

Archer fell silent, giving Lexie the
space to complete her thought. After a solid silent moment, when it
was clear that Lexie had nothing to add, Archer spoke. “In my
opinion, not knowing what to call yourself is a good thing. Humans
are inclined towards making grand edicts, declaring what is true
and what isn’t. It’s limiting and a lousy way to go through
life.”

“
I think it’d be great to
know who I was or what I wanted.”

“
Well, you’re not going to
find the answers in labels. Stay open to the transmutability of the
world and of your identity. I was born onto this planet as a furry
little pup. Now, look at me. Life doesn’t give you one set of rules
to live by. If you declare yourself a lesbian, or an
anthropologist, or martyr, or criminal, or whatever, life doesn’t
lock you into that. Humans are the only animals that imprison
others, and they do it to themselves, every day, with the arbitrary
rules of behavior that they invent. Other people will spend their
lives trying to lock you up. Don’t make it easy for them by
conceding your own identity.”

“
I don’t even know where to
begin.”

“
Begin by giving yourself
permission to follow love.”

“
Following love is what
sent my mother out the door.”

Archer cocked her head in her signature
canid manner.

Lexie answered her silent query with
half of the story. “She followed some guy. I don’t know the
details. She left my father and me, in the middle of the night, off
to pursue some bullshit romance.”

“
Did it work?”

“
How could it? What a
stupid, horrible thing to do!” Lexie sat up, her anger surprising
her as much as it felt perfect in its escape.

“
Absolutely, leaving one’s
family is a horrible thing to do. I’m not condoning her actions.
She was a fool to leave you behind.” Archer stroked Lexie’s leg.
“All I’m saying is, sometimes walking away is the lesser
crime.”

Lexie bit her lip to fight the tears,
and though they welled in her eyes, none dared escape down her
cheeks.

“
Hey,” Archer said,
pressing her forehead against Lexie’s. “You deserve a family. You
have so much joy to share. I can’t wait to see you light up when
surrounded by people you love and who love you. And I know it will
happen soon. What I’m saying is that now you get the chance to
choose. You didn’t get to choose with your mother. She left without
your consent, and that’s unfair.”

“
I just don’t understand.
Giving up one family for the hope of another?”

“
Would it be better or
worse if she had left for a different reason?” Archer
asked.

Lexie shrugged. “Probably worse. Maybe.
No, I don’t know. Better, I think. Leaving town for an education or
for adventure, or even for a job, they’re all better than leaving
for love.” Lexie spat the last word, though her own first taste of
love made her momentarily sympathetic to her mother’s
choices.

“
The blessing is that now,
in creating your own family, it’s up to you what it will look
like.”

Lexie ran her fingers along Archer’s
brow. “Archer, I want it look like you.”

Archer smiled, her own eyes growing
moist. “Me too.”

She held Lexie’s face in her palms, and
they shared a sweet kiss. Lexie’s eyes drifted shut as heavy gray
clouds rolled in over the horizon, the wind kicking them along fast
enough that she hoped they would drift on without dropping their
payloads.

“
So . . .” Lexie asked,
after a good long pause, cracking one eye open, “What makes it
happen to people?”

Archer reached for her water glass and
took a long swallow. “Oh lord, I don’t know. Hormones, I suppose.
What’s it matter?”

Lexie let a little chuckle escape her
mouth.

Archer looked at her dubiously, not
understanding the humor. She tilted her head to the side. Now that
she knew Archer’s secrets, Lexie enjoyed noticing the tiny
not-quite-human parts of Archer’s mannerisms.

“
What?” Archer said,
confused.

Lexie let the laugh out. “It sounds
like classic chauvinism.”

Archer replied with a blank
stare.

“
Seriously? You don’t know
about the stereotype that all women are crazy because of
hormones?”

“
Sure I do,” Archer
replied. “I lived through the women’s lib movement . . . All the
women’s lib movements.”

Lexie laughed again, this time at the
sheer ridiculousness that was her life.

“
Nevertheless,” Archer
continued, “hormones are very powerful things.”

“
You’re actually serious?
You’re telling me that I ‘go crazy’ in sync with the moon because
of hormones? That’s
hysterical
!”

Archer rolled her eyes. “Craziness is
hormone-driven. All emotions are. It’s not gendered.”

Lexie looked askance at
this.

Archer continued, as
even-tempered as ever. “It’s the implication that your emotions
aren’t
valid
because they’re hormone driven that’s the misogynistic
part.”

Lexie pondered it all for a moment,
then reached for a slice of apple, balancing a piece of cheese atop
it. The combined textures and sweet versus salty sent a shudder of
delight through her mouth. “Well that’s disappointing,” she said,
chewing.

“
What were you hoping for,
a magic spell?”

“
I don’t know. A mutation,
a virus?”

“
We are not a virus,”
Archer replied, deadly serious.

“
Ok,” she said, holding up
her hands. “Hormones, then.”

“
Yes. That’s my best guess.
It explains why human half-bloods change when they get worked up,
either sexually or violently. It explains why the shift replaces
menstruation in women. And it explains why I find you so damn sexy
right now.”

Lexie blushed. “Har har.”

“
You think I’m
kidding?”

“
But you said ‘you’ as if
I’m something different from you,” Lexie continued.

“
You are. You’re a
half-blood.”

“
And you’re
not?”

“
I’m a
pureblood.”

Lexie looked at her, grin growing
wider. This time Archer was in on the joke and laughed as she
replied, “What? It’s true!”

“
That’s a little
hierarchical, isn’t it?” Lexie said with faux disapproval. She was
mastering the condescending tone that was an essential part of the
Pack’s repertoire.

“
I suppose so. But so is
the world.”

Lexie thought for a moment. “But
wouldn’t some say that the hierarchy is unfair by design?” Lexie
wasn’t sure she knew what alternative she was positing but
suspected this would be the basic arc of Blythe’s rebuttal. She
decided to take it for a ride.

Archer smiled as Lexie batted around
new ideas like prey between two paws. “Some would insist that the
hierarchy is based on antiquated notions of society and class that
dictate who gets to be in power based on arbitrary but historically
significant qualifiers of intelligence and clout,” Archer spoke in
a blas√© tone not unlike Renee’s. “And those people would be
wrong.” She drank the water glass empty.

“
But,” Lexie was feeling
bold, “don’t you think there is a power difference?”

“
Between whom?” Archer’s
voice dropped register. It was almost--but not quite--a growl. It
intimidated Lexie more than the Pack but aroused her more, too.
Like their love-making, despite how much it unnerved her, she never
doubted she could handle it. Just as their bodies tumbled together,
she was eager to volley ideas with Archer, feeling genuinely smart
and empowered for the first time in her life.

“
Well,” she admitted,
boldly, “us, I guess.”

Archer gave up her half-grin for a full
one. “Yes. There is. I’m bigger and stronger and older. And, I’ve
been at this for a while.”

Archer’s bluntness stunned Lexie
silent.

“
But,” Archer continued,
“you have power over me as well.”

“
What do you mean?” Lexie
asked, the question catching in her throat.

Archer smiled, her head resting solidly
on her hand, her eyes first downcast, then staring into Lexie’s
own, creating a breathtaking moment’s pause before answering, “I’m
in love with you.”

A great pressure built up behind
Lexie’s eyes. She felt as though her head were aflame.

“
Does that surprise you?”
Archer asked, tilting her head one way, then another as she tried
to listen with both ears.

“
I don’t know,” Lexie
replied. “Maybe.” She laid back and let the fleece tickle her neck.
A sliver of sunshine crept across her skin, teasing freckles from
beneath her bare flesh. “No, I guess not.”

Lexie smiled at the clouds passing
overhead. “You’re the third person who’s ever said they loved
me.”

Archer stroked her fingertips along the
pale path of Lexie’s forearm.

“
Your family was
small.”

Lexie nodded, “Tiny.”

“
How strong it must
be.”

Lexie turned to Archer, searching for
meaning in those heterochromatic eyes. “What do you
mean?”

“
Wolves travel in groups
for safety and for power. The fewer members, the harder it is to
survive. A pack of two, that’s strong.”

Lexie smiled sadly, feeling like her
father in that moment. A fragile grin, eyes downcast, a jaw too
tight to speak.

“
I love you, too.” Lexie’s
eyes flicked up in time to see the tears fall from her lover--her
love’s--eyes. Archer placed her palm on Lexie’s bare
sternum.

Lexie blinked up at the sky to keep
from crying herself, watching the clouds drift past. Archer watched
her still. She felt the most beautiful when Archer looked at her
this way; her love edified each cell of her body.

“
I always wanted a big
family,” Lexie said. “Other families I knew always kept their front
door open and had people coming in and out all the time. Things
like dinner parties or ski weekends, or camping, or whatever. It
was always stuff that other kids did. My house was so quiet. Always
just . . .” Lexie sighed and watched Archer’s body create its own
horizon as the sun tilted toward the sea.

“
Large families have their
own challenges,” Archer said.

“
I want to be challenged. I
want to know what it’s like to want something.” Her hair rasped
against the wood grain as she spoke more adamantly. “Like, I listen
to the Pack talk, and I want to know where that passion comes from.
It’s so potent, so real. It’s moving.”

“
You’re right,” Archer
answered Lexie’s frustration with calm. “That’s exactly what it is.
It moves things. Most of their power comes from anger.”

“
But anger seems to do
something.”

“
Anger absolutely does
things. It is a powerful tool for inciting change. But it has to be
wielded like a tool. You can’t let it can’t wield you. That’s what
separates us from that beast that attacked you.”

“
You totally kicked his
ass.”