Wendy

"I've printed out the repeal forms, and I wrote down the address of the department. They're all on the desk."

"Thank you, Wendy. You've been invaluable today," Mrs. Nancy choked out. "I fear I rather fell apart in the presence of that woman."

"She was a bit more harsh than we'd expected," Wendy admitted, "but there were so many things that were beyond your control."

"Yes, well, I suppose it all comes from having a dog in the house."

"Nana is a treasure."

"Yes, but even so, I fear it will work against us." Mrs. Nancy's voice started to tremble. "I don't know what I'll do if I lose this home."

"It will be fine," Wendy said, taking her hand. "We'll begin the repeal process, they'll do some further investigations, and they'll see that your reputation speaks for itself. Mrs. Carnivera's decision will be overturned. She can't have that much power." But even as Wendy said it, she had a sinking feeling that perhaps Mrs. Carnivera did hold a lot of authority, and their efforts for repeal might all be in vain.

"Thank you, Wendy," Mrs. Nancy said, dabbing at her eyes. "Sometimes I forget that you're just a teenager."

So do I, Wendy thought grimly.

"Well, thank you again for staying later than usual," Mrs. Nancy said, glancing at the grandfather clock.

"Not a problem. I'll just finish cleaning up the kitchen and I'll be on my way."

Wendy scrubbed at the kitchen floor, mildly annoyed that she was cleaning up dog spew for the second time that day. She had hastily wiped it up right after Mrs. Carnivera had left, but then the other demands of the day and situation had descended upon her. Now she meticulously scoured the checkerboard tiles, letting the monotonous motion become almost therapeutic. As she pushed her rag under the refrigerator, it collided with a small object. She peered under the ledge and wriggled the thing out. It was a trinket in the form of a boy. It was made out of a strange type of tarnished material she'd never encountered before and it fit squarely in her palm. She inspected it further and found a small attachment at its base, as if it should plug into something. But the most odd thing about the piece was how cocky the boy looked. Looking into the little face sent an involuntary shudder through her, and she laughed at her reaction. She glanced at the base again and found a small switch. She toggled it and a dull light began to pulse next to it.

Just then, Wendy heard a scuffle behind her.

"Trevor, what are you doing out of bed?" She scolded, not bothering to turn around. The little delinquent came around to face her and Wendy dropped the metal trinket into her pocket. She wasn't sure why she felt she had to hide it. Maybe because it was just the kind of thing that would excite Trevor and keep him awake for hours. Maybe because she wanted to study it a bit longer herself.

"Miss Wendy, I couldn't sleep," the boy admitted. "Something keeps scratching at my window."

"Trevor, I'm sure it's your imagination."

"It's not. There's a noise and then little flashes of light."

Wendy frowned and followed him back to his bedroom, where Arthur was sleeping soundly.

"It comes from the bottom here and shines on the ceiling," Trevor whispered, pointing to the base of the window. Wendy listened for several moments, but heard nothing but the sound of traffic from the main street. She turned away.

"Trevor, why don't you lie down and try to go to sleep?"

The boy reluctantly crawled into bed, but as Wendy pulled the blanket over him, she heard a faint screech and saw a bright light out of the corner of her eye.

"There!" Trevor yelled, leaping up and rushing to the window. Arthur moaned incoherently and rolled over in his bed. Approaching the window, Wendy tried to suppress the irrational fear pounding through her body. She and Trevor stared out into the night, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Wendy ran her finger along the window frame. All she found was dust. She thought she heard the sounds of distant laughter, and she clung to this as an explanation.

"It's probably just some teenagers having fun," she said with a relieved sigh. "Now go back to bed and try to think of something uninteresting."

"Like goldfish?"

"Sure. As long as it helps you go to sleep."

"Alright Miss Wendy," Trevor conceded. He buried his head in his pillow, and as Wendy left the room, she heard a muffled, "I love you Miss Wendy."

Tears pricked her eyes, but she pushed the feeling away as she hurriedly finished cleaning the kitchen floor and double checked the security system before leaving for home.

It was a cold night for September, but Wendy was too focused on getting home quickly to really notice. She'd walked these streets hundreds of times, but in the dark they lost their familiarity. She knew her mother wouldn't be at home - she'd be working through the night, but Wendy had promised to finish painting the hallway in their flat before her mother came back in the morning.

They'd moved into the small apartment in Islington after they'd lost her father and brothers, and the place had needed constant attention since then. In the last two years Wendy had learned how to fix leaky faucets, repair holes in walls and reinforce drafty windows. They planned to move to a more suitable place, but it would be a long time before they could afford it. They both worked as often as possible. Her mother took as many shifts as she could working as an oncology nurse at the hospital, and Wendy had dropped out of school to find full time employment. At one time she had dreamed of becoming an architect, but she had abandoned those aspirations, knowing that additional education would have to wait until after they could make ends meet. Sometimes on her way to work she would pass girls her age heading to school and wonder what was going on in their heads. She imagined their thoughts were full of studies and tests, entertainment and shopping, and probably all the boys that they liked. Wendy didn't know any boys her age, but even if she did, she doubted she would have time to waste thinking about them. Right now she was thinking about Mrs. Nancy and what would happen to everyone if the home was shut down. Worry gnawed at her nerves and she resolved to be optimistic until a final decision was made.

She arrived at her building and rushed up the stairs to their flat. She put her key in the lock, but found that she didn't need to. She was planning the lecture she was going to give her mother about leaving the door unlocked, but then she turned on the light and screamed.

She stepped forward, wanting to embrace her unconscious mother but afraid to touch her. She looked around and gradually the pieces fell into place in her muddled mind. The paint splattered all over the floor, the overturned ladder, her mother sprawled out with a bruise on the side of her forehead. She had clearly fallen while painting, but how bad was the injury? Wendy knelt down and lightly touched her mother's arms, her neck, her head. She was warm, she was breathing, she was alive.

"Mom?" Wendy ventured, and when the woman didn't respond, she tried saying it louder and louder until she was screaming. "Mom! Wake up! Wake up!" She didn't realize she was sobbing until she noticed the tears dropping onto her mother's shirt. "Mom! I need you!" Wendy knew that she should take action, but she couldn't pull herself away from her mother's side. She felt loneliness and despair closing in around her. She was only vaguely aware of her neighbor stepping through the open door.

"Calm down, Wendy, I'll call an ambulance."

*****

"Miss Darling?"

It took a few moments for Wendy to realize the doctor was addressing her.

"Yes?"

"Your mother is in a coma. She has some bleeding around the brain, which is causing extra compression on her right side. Her injury does not seem extremely severe, and when the swelling lessens, I expect she'll regain consciousness."

Wendy focused hard on understanding the words. Phrases and fragments were floating around in the wrong order, and she wondered whether she too had a brain injury.

"How long...?"

"Usually someone in this condition will wake up in three or four days. You are welcome to stay here with your mother, but it might be optimal for you to go home and get some rest. We'll call you with any developments."

When Wendy didn't respond, the doctor gave a quick nod and then disappeared down the hallway.

Wendy crept into the sterile room. She sat down next to the bed and took her mother's hand. She looked so pale and distant, and after a few moments Wendy had to look away. She didn't want to leave her mother, but she also couldn't stand to see her like this, to have a constant reminder of the awful situation. She knew she'd be lonely and miserable at home, but at least she might be able to sleep through some of the aching. She lightly kissed her mother's cheek, then gathered her things and walked out into the cold night.