Human Spines

Dumaine and Chartres-II

Accordion Boy

        I've never heard a girl talk as fast as this one. She's spewing words without so much as breathing. I catch most of it though. Kind of. But halfway through a word she stops. Gasps. Smiles. Sweetly says, "Sorry, sometimes I just get so ahead of myself."

        My jaw inches toward the floor as she giggles and twirls a lock of long silky hair around her finger. Lowering her head she bites her lip, drawing a circle on the ground with the tip of her shoe. This is not at all what she was acting like two seconds ago. She sounded on the verge of a panic attack. Now she's fluttering her eyelashes. Not cool.

        "Well, I'm gonna grab some food. I'll see you around I guess." She giggles at me, but I'm examining her wrists and ankles for any indication of recently being hospitalized. Or tracked. Isn't that what they do to people who have mental conditions or illnesses? I've seen a girl with multiple personality disorder switch like she just did. She may be schizophrenic as well, with the way her eyes were trained on something invisible racing down the street. Her "thief."

        I hop off the trashcan, catching her shoulder as she spins to leave. "Hey!" I twirl her around. "You promised me lunch, remember?" It couldn't hurt to play along. Right?

****

        She begins leading me to the Market Cafe, spewing an excuse to explain why she isn't quite herself today, forgetting her promise. Whoever herself is. I don't even know her name. Why am I doing this?

        I scan the streets for her "theif", but only find a group of middle-aged tourists and a young couple with a dog. The girl cuts left behind the couple and I almost lose track of her.

         I do know why I'm doing this. Indulging some girl's request. Because I'm bored, and she's the first person to notice me in years. I see her duck under a vine dangling from somebody's balcony, but almost become tangled in it myself, too busy watching her. Flowing onyx ribbons of hair stream to her waist, dancing behind her as she strides down the street. Her small frame is tailored in a black vintage jacket, its tails trailing to her calves. Beneath is a white shirt as tight as the dark denim skinny jeans that wrap around her legs. Name brand black and white sneakers are loose around her feet, finishing her high fashion, high cost, outfit. Minus the tattered off-white backpack sagging from her shoulders. It looks as old as her.

         We reach the café, where a waiter leads us to an outside table. Sliding into a blue metal chair, I rest my accordion, now safely in its case, under the table and take another glance around for anything suspicious.

        "Wanna split a muffaletta?"

        Satisfied with those around us, even the pigeons pecking at our feet for dropped scraps, I focus on the girl, nodding. Her face appears healthier than her mind, glowing rose gold skin, long, slightly upturned nose, and straight dark eyebrows. She's biracial like me, but a different mix from my black and white. PossiblyKorean and white. Her eyes are a deep, sparkling emerald with vivid slashes of neon green. I watch the shape of her lips as she talks to the waiter. They're like little porcelain doll lips. Round and plump and—

        "Hey! What d'you wanna drink?" She's snickering, waving her hand in front of my face to get my attention. Very distracting is what her lips are.

        "Sorry, water." I glance up at the waiter. Awkward silence takes hold as the waiter leaves, a consequence of being caught staring.

        "You don't say much, do you?" She drops her chin into her hand, expecting an answer.