Fame and Heroics and Merry Larks

I know I have to write my tag story, and I promise I'll do it soon, Purl! But in the meantime...this is my short story from writing camp. Pardon the typos that are probably there. I was typing fast and tired.

There was something horrid about the moon. It hung like some kind of glowing snowball in the sky, and she hated it. She hated anything that reminded her of snow, actually. She'd come from a place where it snowed almost every day for eight months out of the year, and she was sick of it. That was, of course, why she left. Among other reasons.

Her name was Adelaide Franck, and she was going to be famous. Or at least, that's what she told everyone she met in the daytime, under the sun. She liked the sun. It wasn't something she was used to--feeling warm, like she herself could be aglow with some kind of fiery light.

In any case, she'd told Mr. Gray she was going to be famous just the other day. She'd just met him outside the diner, he'd asked her name, and she'd said, "I'm Adelaide Franck. I'm going to be famous," and shook his hand like she'd made some kind of comment on the weather.

He didn't seem to mind. A faint smile had brushed his lips as he looked over her bright colors from head to toe. "Ambitious of you," he'd said, meeting her eyes again. "I'm going to be a hero," he'd added.

She'd started, wondering if he was poking fun at her, laughing at all her goals in life, but she could find no trace of it in his eyes. He had gray eyes, which seemed fitting, but they weren't the boring, dull gray eyes that most gray-eyed men had. He seemed friendly enough and told her that perhaps they should compare notes sometime.

She'd agreed, with a somewhat suspicious glance at his black trench coat. She didn't like trench coats. She thought they were tacky. In any case, it didn't matter very much, because she hadn't seen him since. She'd met him two weeks ago and still no word. She didn't mind particularly, because he was, after all, just another businessman--who apparently wanted to be a hero, but that could hardly be trusted as the truth.

Now she was walking beneath the much hated moon on an empty street. She didn't want to go home. She didn't have much of a home to begin with. It was more of a dirty, rundown apartment where everything she owned was strewn as if a whirlwind had passed through. She hadn't even realized she owned so many things, until they seemed to expand to the maximum capacity of her apartment.

However, she didn't have anywhere to go besides home, so she simply continued on down the echoing street. She stopped in front of a statue of an angel and looked at the chiseled face and wings with etched feathers stretching out to reach the sky.

"Impressive, isn't it?" A man's voice spoke, stepping out of the shadow of the statue. He was wearing a trench coat.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Mr. Gray?"

He nodded, removing his black top hat with a small bow. "Miss Adelaide. I spotted you looking at my angel and thought I could join you in admiring her."

"Most people don't spend their midnight hours admiring statues."

"Very true," he replied, regarding her with a raised eyebrow.

She swallowed, realizing at once the hole she'd dug herself in. Still, she thought it was rude of him not to explain himself. She looked back at the angel and squared her jaw. "I wasn't admiring it," she said loudly, searching for a fault in the creature's features. There were none, which displeased her more. "And anyway, what makes her your angel?" she asked, turning back to Mr. Gray.

He smiled. "She's right outside my door, of course. I live there," he said, indicating the apartment buildings beside them.

Adelaide looked at the buildings, which, even from the outside, appeared much better kept up than her own. She took in a deep breath of air through her nose and raised her chin up. "Well, it's been quite interesting meeting with you again, Mr. Gray, but I'm afraid I must take my leave." She started to walk away and was interrupted by deep, throaty laughter. She whirled around to face the insulting man. "Mr. Gray, if there's something humorous in this situation, I'd like to hear it."

He only laughed louder, waving her response away.

She glared at him until he finally stopped, red-faced and grinning.

"Forgive me, Miss Adelaide. I don't mean to offend. It's only you're such a proud, self-absorbed thing."

She straightened, feeling her cheeks flame. "I--"

"No, don't protest, just come with me," he said, taking her arm and leading her down the sidewalk as he put his top hat back on his head. She tried to pull away, but he kept a tight grip on her. "You're going to be famous," he said, "yes?"

"Well--yes," she said. "You're going to be a hero." She crossed her arms as she spoke, managing to pull away from him slightly.

"Yes," he agreed. "I'm glad we understand each other. We both have absurdly impossible dreams. Now we can have a merry lark together as we tromp through the moonlit streets.

"I don't want to tromp through the moonlit streets with you!" she protested. "I don't even like the moon!"

"You don't like the moon?" Mr. Gray asked, jaw falling slack. "Then you haven't seen the moon. Come on!" He grabbed onto her arm again and started running, forcing her to run too if she wanted to avoid falling on her face.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

He glanced sideways at her, grasping his top hat with his opposite hand to keep it on his head. He didn't say anything, just twitched his lips into a grin. They bounded over the red brick street. They didn't stop even to catch a breath until they'd gotten where he wanted them to be. It was a bridge, apparently, over a river or stream--some sort of running water.

"Now look at the moon in the water, and tell me it's not beautiful," he said, loosing his grip on her at last.

Adelaide jerked away from him and walked to the rail of the bridge, looking down. The water lay flat, except for the occasional ripple of pearly light, glistening on the surface. She looked at Mr. Gray with a shrug. He was watching her with two risen brows. "It's--sort of pretty," she admitted.

He smiled again. "You just don't want to admit anything's beautiful except yourself, do you? You really do have what it takes to be famous. Doesn't mean it'll happen, though." He came closer to her, set his top hat on the wooden rail and made a bow with his hand across his chest.

She eyed him with confusion, but he only took her hand in his, set the other on his shoulder, and put his own opposite hand on her waist, stepping off in a dignified waltz. "What are you doing?" she'd asked, stepping in time to music only he seemed to hear.

"Making you famous," he responded. He flashed a grin, and she spotted his straight white teeth. "After this, I'll tell everyone I know that I danced on the bridge in the moonlight with the most famous girl in the world, Adelaide Franck, and we had a lovely time."

She blinked and wondered if she'd ever met a stranger man. "Why would you do that?"

He shrugged. "I don't see any reason not to."

He sped to double time then, spinning them both in wild circles. The moon and the water blurred in her vision; they both glowed and shone, above her, below her, around her. The earth and sky were one dazzling mess of light.

When he decided it was over, she could only look at him. His gray eyes were like the stones at the bottom of a stream, smoothed from crushing water, secret in the deep.

He smiled and this time it seemed less that he was enjoying her as a character study and more that he was simply enjoying their time together. "Shall we walk, Miss Adelaide?" he asked, taking her arm again.

She walked with him. It didn't seem like there was anything better to do, and she was still dizzy from the dance. "Who are you?" she asked at last.

He snorted. "James Gray, businessman. From a small town. Nobody important."

They passed into the brighter part of the city. Streetlights shown orange-yellow, though the extra light was hardly needed with the way the moon was shining. There were a few clubs still open and roaring voices and laughter bubbled out. On the street corner, a man sat alone on a red bench, staring out at nothing.

Mr. Gray stopped in front of him, pulling her beside him. "Good citizen!" he shouted. "I have an announcement to make: I've just danced, on the bridge, in the moonlight, with the most famous girl in the world, Miss Adelaide Franck!"

The man blinked at him from under thick eyebrows, then glanced at Adelaide. "Good," he said after a moment, pulling at his gray beard, "good."

She shook her head as they moved on down the street. "You're crazy," she said. "I don't know if I like it."

He looked at her and smiled. "You do," he said. "I can feel it."

She narrowed her eyes at him and his black, business clothing. "You have an ugly trench coat," she said.

"You have a gaudy amount of colors on," he replied without batting an eye. "And I wouldn't be so rude to the man who just made you famous. I am going to continue telling people, you know, but I could change the story a bit."

She pulled her arm away from his and slapped him, not hard, but enough to make him flinch. "You wouldn't," she said. Then, "So what about you? You're going to be a hero."

He gave a half smile, like part of his mouth operated independently of the rest. "Yes. It was a dream I had when I came to the city. I was young and impressionable."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but kept walking. They were getting to the slums now--close to where she lived, actually. It was one of the reasons she didn't like being at home. There were always noises clattering in the night, dogs barking, shouting. Everything looked like it was crumbling apart, and it smelled--like too many people clumped into too small a space.

A boy was huddled against a building, pressed up with his back against it like he was trying to become a part of the wall. He was thin, cheeks taut against his bones, clothes hanging on him like curtains. She nudged Mr. Gray. "Here's your chance," she whispered.

He glanced at her and at the boy and gave a very small smile. He took off his hat carefully and walked over to the boy, kneeling down in front of him. "Here," he said, reaching into his pocket to take out two gold coins, "take these and buy yourself something to eat tomorrow. And if you're hungry after that, just come to 402 Lateral Street and ask for Mr. Gray."

The boy was quiet, staring ahead.

"Here," Mr. Gray repeated, "Take them."

The boy reached out a small hand to take the coins, then snatched them like he expected them to be withdrawn before he had the chance. He looked up at Mr. Gray with wide eyes. "Gee, thanks, Mister," he said before turning and running away.

He rejoined her after watching the boy disappear into the alleyways and they continued their stroll down the brick streets. He had a smile on his face that made him look more like a boy than the businessman he was.

"I'll tell everyone," Adelaide said, "about the heroic act of Mr. James Gray, saving the lives of starving street children."

The corner of his mouth lifted again, but he was quiet. "Maybe you shouldn't," he said finally. "Before, it was just--I wanted to be talked about and honored, you know? But that's not really heroic."

She crossed her arms at him. "Are you getting philosophical on me, James?"

"James?" he repeated. "Are we on a first name basis now? Isn't that a bit personal?"

She rolled her eyes. "You've been calling me Adelaide this whole time."

"Miss Adelaide," he corrected. "There's a difference."

"Well, I can call you Mr. James if you want, but that seems a bit ridiculous."

He laughed, shaking his head. "It's fine. Adelaide."

She looked at him and didn't say anything. They walked, and she tucked her arm back under his, even though he did have a horrible trench coat on. She supposed she could stand to be seen with him. They shared the silence of the street, nothing but the sound of their reverberating footsteps and the illuminating glow of the moon.

They reached the statue of the angel when the first gray tones were replacing the midnight color of the sky. she was bleary eyes and blinking, but she didn't mind. She didn't even mind the perfection of the angel. She glanced at James and smiled. "We should do this again sometime."

He looked down at her and gave a lopsided smile, but he didn't quite look in her eyes. "I'm leaving," he said at last, "on business. I don't know when--or if--I'll be back."

She pulled away from him abruptly. "What do you mean?" she asked.

He sighed, removing his hat and scratching at his hair. "I have to go tomorrow. I have...obligations to fulfill. I probably won't be back here."

"But what about me? What about--being a hero? What about everything?"

He shrugged. His eyes looked tired and dull. "The thing is...it was just a dream. It lasted one night, and now it's over. There's still real life to be lived." He looked at her the way someone looks at a naive child, and she decided that she hated him.

"What about that boy? You told him to ask for you if he was hungry, and now you won't even be there!" she shouted at him.

"If he asks for me, someone will help him. I'll make sure of that. I have to go. If I ever come back...I'll look for you, here."

She turned away, looking into the gray street. No one was awake yet. It was still empty and quiet. "Maybe I won't be here," she said in a low voice. "Maybe...I'll be famous." It sounded too strained for her to believe.

"I hope you are," James said. He pulled her left hand, turning her back towards him. "Adelaide," he said, "I'm sorry."

She said nothing, and after a moment he let go of her and disappeared into the apartment building. She turned to look at the stone angel, with those beautiful wings lifted to the sky. Chiseled in stone. Stone couldn't fly. She turned and walked away.

She came back to the statue after a few weeks and again after a few months. He wasn't there, and she got tired of spending moonlit nights alone. After staring at the glowing sphere for a while, she realized that she missed the snow. The way it sparkled under the sunlight could be beautiful. She decided to go back home and try living there again for a while, getting a real job. It wasn't very interesting, but it was life, she supposed.

Once, many months later, she hate in a diner and signed her name on a check, Adelaide Franck. The waiter took the check and started to move back to the cashier, but stopped abruptly. "Miss Adelaide Franck?" he asked, whirling around to face her with wide eyes.

She nodded. "Is there a problem?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am, it's just--there was a fellow in here a week or two ago, and he said Miss Adelaide Franck was the most famous girl in the world, and he'd danced under the moonlight with her once. Is that you?"

She felt the corners of her mouth rise as she looked down at her purse on the table. "Yes," she said softly, "that's me. But I don't suppose he told you--I saw him save a child's life that night. Mr. James Gray is a hero."