Chapter 6

Sensibly Apprehensive

Yawning noisily, Cricket let one arm hang over the bathtub. Her drenched hair was dripping on her shoulders, and the overlarge T-shirt she used as sleepwear had large, dark patches where it had gotten wet. Cricket herself wanted nothing better than to slip into bed and pull the covers high, high over her head. Instead, she was kneeling in the bathroom, trying to clean up a mess that she hadn't created.

Water poured from the low faucet in one effusive gush. It pooled over the rubber mat suctioned to the bottom of the tub, forming mud puddles from the dirt stains Kismet had left earlier. Cricket had done her best to dodge those stains as she was showering, but her brother had complained. Cricket had stubbornly maintained that he was only jealous because he wasn't as agile as her, an argument that her parents hadn't found wholly convincing.

Scrubbing the last of the mud off the mat, Cricket yawned again. Getting to her feet, only to find that one foot had fallen asleep, she turned off the faucet and let the sloshing water drain away. In the ensuing silence, she could hear the wind howling outside, accompanied by the pitter-patter of rain on the roof and the occasional rumble of thunder. The rain had started to fall that evening and had now escalated into a full-fledged storm.

Cricket could empathize; her frustration with the so-called "Kismet" had been building in a similar fashion.

"Stupid bug," she muttered under her breath. "He could've at least offered to help." But, no, Kismet was probably lounging around on Cricket's bed and filling his belly.

At dinner, Mrs. Lewis had caught Cricket trying to sneak some broccoli into the napkin on her lap. Cricket had been forced to eat her least favorite vegetable on the spot, cursing mentally all the while. Unable to steal anything from the table, Cricket had reluctantly resorted to letting Kismet loose on her personal candy stash. The oversized dragonfly had dove in with such gusto Cricket doubted there would be any left when she returned.

And there was the little issue of who was sleeping where. Kismet had produced a long, mournful speech, emphasizing how he was injured, amnesiac, and bone-tired from his "wearisome ordeals." By the time he'd finished elaborating on his piteous condition, he'd somehow made his eyes are large and pleading as a puppy's.

"You wouldn't make a poor, injured, innocent creature spend the entire night on a hard, cold, merciless floor, you kind, compassionate, generous..."

Cricket had given in with a snarled reply, if only to keep him from talking any longer. Now, as she wrung her hair over the sink and opened the bathroom door, she was feeling a little less than magnanimous towards her winged "houseguest." Injured and traumatized or not, Kismet was annoying. Cricket's notoriously short temper had reached the end of its fuse several times, and she was on the verge of plunging past the point of no return.

Stomping back to her room, Cricket was just about to yank the door open when she heard something rather unexpected. Over the constant drumming of the rain, it sounded like someone was singing faintly inside.

"...when daytime turns to night...and the moon shines bright..."

Snapping out of her initial surprise, Cricket shook her head, then pressed her ear against the door, listening incredulously.

"...when you're tucked in tight...and everything's...alright...ah, right...sora o...ao geba..."

"Kismet?" Cricket said, opening the door at last.

The dragonfly was nowhere in sight. A couple seconds of searching revealed the blanket-covered lump at the foot of her bed, which was shaking rather oddly and emitting a querulous hum. Slowly, the top of a pale green head peeked though a crevice-like fold in the sheets. "You called?"

Feeling a bit awkward, Cricket plopped herself down on the bed beside him.

"Ow...you're sitting on my tail."

Hastily changing her position, Cricket drew her knees under her chin, then wrapped her arms around her bent legs. Outside, she could still hear the thunder crashing recklessly about. "You're scared of storms, huh?" she said, staring at the lump-in-the-bed that was Kismet.

The dragonfly's reply was partially dampened by the blanket he'd burrowed deeper into, and Cricket had to strain to catch his voice. "Scared is such a strong word," Kismet mumbled. "I personally prefer 'sensibly apprehensive of.' "

"Since when are you sensible?" Cricket snapped.

The lump seemed to wilt on the spot. For several minutes, all that could be heard were the sounds of the storm raging outside the house. Finally, Cricket broke the silence.

"Look, I used to be scared...okay, 'sensibly apprehensive' of storms, too," she said, untangling her limbs and leaning back against the bed. "I didn't like the thunder, the lightning, the rain...all of it scared me to death. But you know what?"

Slowly, the lump in the bed shifted place. "Don't believe I do," came Kismet's dry, if somewhat shaky, reply.

"The storm's out there, and we're not." Still staring at the ceiling, Cricket tucked her arms behind her head. "So as long as you keep humming that dumb song, we can just sit back and laugh."

"At me?"

"No, stupid," Cricket said, rolling her eyes. "We can laugh at the storm running itself sick outside, because we're nice and cozy in here."

There were several minutes of pensive silence. The lump rose and fell slightly a couple times. Cricket had all but given up on an answer, when it started wriggling towards the end of the bed. "That's not a very nice thing to do," Kismet remarked as he poked his face into the open. "In fact, it's downright mean."

Cricket laughed. "What else do you expect from me?" Kismet had stopped shaking, she noted out of the corner of her eye. In fact, he'd moved his entire head out from under the blanket.

"Besides, there's some things you can't laugh at," Kismet said sadly. "You know -stuff that you can't help but be...'sensibly apprehensive' of, no matter how hard you try." Lowering his eyes and letting his good antenna droop dejectedly, the dragonfly fell silent. "It's not looking too good for me, huh?" he said after letting the conversation lull for some time.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't even remember what I am or what the heck I'm doing here," Kismet continued unhappily. "Sometimes I feel like I've come on some sort of mission, something really important. And though I've nearly thought my brains out, I can't remember what it is. It's frustrating, that's what it is. Really, really...frustra...ting."

As she heard Kismet's voice crack on the last word, Cricket took her arms out from where they'd been cushioning her head. "I'm gonna turn off the lights, and you better go to sleep," she said, getting to her feet. "We're gonna figure out who you are tomorrow, not now."

"We? As in you and me?"

Cricket only snorted as she pressed the light switch. As she crawled into the front of her bed and closed her eyes, she heard a quiet, contended hum coming from the other end. It faded into snores soon afterwards, though whether they were Kismet's or Cricket's own she didn't care to remember.

{kira} Well, I think everyone else has left, and I should probably be going to bed now.

{deuce_halcyon} see you tomorrow, and don't you dare forget!

{kira} Halcyon, do you know where I could find a scanner if I didn't have one myself?

{deuce_halcyon} still thinking about that picture of yours, I see. your school might have one.

{kira} ...that's not a good place.

{deuce_halcyon} ah. your friendly local library, perhaps?

{kira} Thank you. Good luck at the match tomorrow.

{deuce_halcyon} good night.

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Zane lay awake an hour or so after he should have fallen asleep, listening to the rain die away outside. In the basket lying by the foot of the bed, Summer was rocking gently back and forth, completely unperturbed. Wishing he could be as sound a sleeper, Zane rolled over and pressed his cheek against the pillow.

The groan of the garage door told him that his mother had returned at last. Releasing an unconscious sigh of relief, Zane let his eyelids fall into place. As he allowed himself to drift away at last, he hoped that she would notice the bowl of macaroni he'd set out on the table before he'd gone to bed.

No such luck. The figure crouched outside Zane's house watched as the kitchen light flickered on, then back off a short while later. Wiping runnels of rainwater from its face, it gave the building one last, long glance before retreating into the darkness.