"I don't want it," Kate said.
"Just give her bread and water like the little prisoner she is." Corny leaned back on Ellen's bed, cushioning his head with a pile of laundry. "Man, I hate babysitting.”
Kate picked up the orange and threw it against the wall. It bounced like a leather ball, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Kaye had no idea what to do. She felt paralyzed by guilt. The girl had every reason to hate her.
Corny switched on the tiny television set. The channels were fuzzy, but he finally found one that was clear enough to show Buffy staking three vampires as Giles clocked her with a stopwatch.
"Rerun," Corny said. "Perfect. Kate, this should teach you everything you need to know about being a normal American teenager." He looked up at Kaye. "There's even the sudden addition of a sister in it.”
"She's not my sister," the girl said. "She just stole my name.”
Kaye stopped, the words like a kick to the gut. "I don't have a name of my own," she said slowly. "Yours is the only one I've got.”
Kate nodded, her eyes still on the screen.
"So what was it like?" Corny asked. "Faerieland?”
Kate tore off a larger chunk of the magazine, crushing it in her fist. "There was a pretty lady who braided my hair and fed me apples and sang to me. And there were others—the goat-man and the blackberry boy. Sometimes they would tease me." She frowned. "And sometimes they would forget me.”
"Do you miss them?" he asked.
"I don't know. I slept a lot. Sometimes I would wake up and the leaves would have changed without me seeing them.”
Kaye felt cold all over. She wondered if she'd ever get used to the casual cruelty of faeries, and hoped she wouldn't. At least here, among humans, Kate would wake up each day until there was no more waking.
Kaye fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater, worming her thumbs through the weave. "Do you want to be Kaye and I'll be Kate?”
"You're stupid and you don't even act like a faery.”
"How about I make you a deal," Kaye said. "I'll teach you about being human and you teach me about being a faery." She winced at how lame that sounded, even to her.
The frown hadn't faded from Kate's face, but she looked like she was thinking things through.
"I'll even help," Corny said. "We can start by teaching you human curse words. Maybe we could skip the faerie curses, though." Corny took a deck of cards out of his backpack. Printed on the back of each was a different cinema robot. "Or we could try poker.”
"You shouldn't bargain with me," the girl said, as though by rote. She looked smug. "Mortal promises aren't worth the hair on a rat's tail. That's your first lesson.”
"Noted," Kaye said. "And, hey, we could also teach you the joys of human food.”
Kate shook her head. "I want to play the cards.”
By the time Ellen walked in, Corny had beaten them both out of all the spare change they'd found in their pockets or under Ellen's bed. Law & Order was playing on the television, and Kate had agreed to eat a single fortune cookie. Her fortune had read: Someone will invite you to a karaoke party.
"Hey, one of the guys on the street was selling bootleg movies for two bucks," Ellen said, throwing her coat onto a chair and dumping the rest of her stuff onto the floor. "I got a couple for you kids.”
"Bet the back of someone's head blocks the screen," Kaye warned.
Ellen picked at the noodles on the counter. "Anyone eating these?”
Kaye walked over. "Kate didn't want them.”
Ellen lowered her voice. "I can't tell if she's just a picky eater or if it's some thing—doesn't like sauces, barely can stand cooked food at all. Not like you. You used to eat like you had a tapeworm.”
Kaye busied herself packing up what was left of the food. She wondered if every memory would snag, like wool on a thorn, making her wonder if it was a symptom of her strangeness.
"Everything okay?" Ellen asked her.