The Ideas
Willow had always been the troublemaker.
Her kind smiles and easy giggles found their way around dirt-blackened fingernails and the sharp grin of someone who enjoys seeing the chaos spiral. She didn’t want anyone hurt, but there was no mistaking - there was fire bubbling in Willow.
Willow. Like the tree. In the human world, they were harmless. On the boiling isles, their leaves were sharp and thorny, and they drank up your blood like a lifeline.
She didn’t remember incidents. But her parents did. They knew better than to put her in the plant track.
But it just made the fire bubble faster. Just made the boiling steam build pressure in her ears and force its way out, in sparks of magical power that nobody else on the isles could hope to match, sometimes.
Willow dreamed. Dreams of magic. Dreams of power. Dreams of fire, brimstone, and bubbling insanity.
Nonsense. That was all they were.
The images of fingernails greyed out with streaks of lead, of blood dripping down cheeks, of thorns littering the prone forms of animals in the forest. Black chalk scattered against stone. Green eyes behind glinting spectacles.
She tried to convince herself that they were nonsense.
Willow. The troublemaker.
Willow had always been the troublemaker.
She’d pushed Amity into fun things. Chaotic things. Drawing shapes in the sand before letting them be washed up by the waves. Vines strangling trees in the forest. Running from responsibility. Alone together.
Grins like knives glittering in darkness.
And then it was over. And Amity’s arm was around her shoulders, abomination goop searing on her forehead.
I bet even you could get a passing grade some day.
Seeya in class, superstar!
It’s like mine. But much smaller and meaningless.
Smiles like tearing chunks from Willow’s walls. The despair, the desperation, the anger.
And when she blinked away the magic, she was surrounded by veins of green. Spiraling out like a labyrinth. Twisting and circling. Tangling. Strangling.
She’d reached up, and only then realized she was crying.
Willow had always been the troublemaker.
She’d mixed magic that day. The abomination professor had called her up, and she’d been finished. Finished with it all.
Her abomination had been made of strangler vines, the colour of Autumn leaves.
She hadn’t even gotten to see Principal Bump. She’d been sent right to detention.
She’d wasted so much emotion. So much despair. All on someone who wouldn’t spare her a second thought.
It had all ended well though.
But she couldn’t let go.
Willow was the troublemaker. Always had been.
And as she stared after Amity - stared at the spot that had housed a staring, strange wooden door just a moment ago - she knew that she couldn’t let this go, either.
She was the troublemaker.
It was time to make some trouble.
Amity glanced at her watch.
Fifteen minutes left.
She sighed, closing the history book. She’d barely scratched the surface of human history - she knew that for a fact. She’d barely gotten anywhere.
...She didn’t have a library card.
She didn’t have a library card and she was a fucking IDIOT.
Fucking fuck.
Amity ran a hand into the hair hanging down by her ears. Just to occupy them. The frustration seeping out in the way her long, pale fingers curled.
What was she going to do.
The school wasn’t going to be closed tomorrow. They’d repair it and get rid of the abomination by then. They were quick. She couldn’t check out this book. Stealing it was too risky - getting caught could draw all kinds of unwanted suspicion to her, and she wasn’t exactly the world’s greatest thief. Hence why she’d given the stealing job to Boscha.
She was so fucked.
...Unless she could get someone working at the library to help her.
No. NO. I am not doing this, I am not doing this, I am NOT DOING THIS-
But oh, was she. Her curiosity had already decided for her. She couldn’t let the library go. She had to do this.
Walking up to Luz was simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing Amity had ever done.
When Luz glanced up, she was not ready for Amity to be there.
(If that WAS her real name.)
She quickly paused her music - she was on a CHVRCHES kick right now, but that was quite secondary to Amity approaching her (VOLUNTARILY) - and gave Amity an easy smile.
“What’s up?”
She was supposed to say ‘how can I help you,’ or something, but who cared? ‘What’s up’ was better anyway.
“...Listen,” Amity said - and there was something about her voice that made Luz perk up, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “I. Do you have a key?”
Luz furrowed her brow. “Like… to the library?”
“Yes.”
Luz gave Amity a silent look. Piercing and curious. “...Yeah, I do. Why?”
“I was wondering if you could leave the door unlocked tonight.”
Amity’s face showed no hint of nervousness. Scratch that - it showed no hint of emotion. It was creepy, honestly; a face being as expressionless as an elbow, or a finger.
“...I can’t,” Luz said, simply. Not quite regretful. “You might steal or something.”
Amity’s expression didn’t change. Or, more accurately, lack of expression. “I won’t. Why would I? All that’s here is books, and I could just check one of those out.”
“Still,” Luz said. Because by now she knew better than to agree to a girl’s request just because she was pretty. “I really can’t.”
Amity seemed to stew with that, for a moment.
“...I’m homeless.”
Amity’s tongue curled around the words like they disgusted her.
Luz’s eyes widened.
“I just need a place to sleep tonight…. Please?”
And again. Amity’s voice felt thorny around the syllables. Like they were a personal affront.
Luz stared.
...Of course she was homeless. Duh. The oversized jacket, the strange stains on her tights, weird clothes, not wanting to share about school. She wasn’t in school - and the reason she was here wasn’t to study for a test. She just needed a place to stay.
(Luz would worry about the thorny, strange details later. The pieces that didn’t quite fit. Like her perfect nail polish. Or the fact that she seemed well-groomed and washed. Or the hair dye.)
And - suddenly - Luz’s face broke into a sunny smile.
She knew just what to do.
“Well, you can stay with me!”
For the first time - Amity’s face showed emotion.
Just a hint of shock. And a mild spark of something that Luz couldn’t read.
“Pardon?” Amity said, raising an eyebrow.
“Duh!” Luz’s smile was so wide it hurt. “There’s plenty of space in my room, a spare sleeping bag in the closet - and Mama volunteers at homeless shelters in her free time, she’d be happy to take you in for a little while!”
Plus, Luz thought, she won’t turn Amity down if I just show up on the doorstep with her; without any warning.
“Uhm; you really don’t have to-” Amity protested mildly.
“Just until you get back on your feet!” Luz assured her. “And it’s our pleasure. Really. Why not?”
“...Well, when you put it like that.” And Amity’s voice was so dead and emotionless that Luz might’ve noticed, if she wasn’t overcome with excitement. “How could I refuse.”
Luz grinned even wider. “This is gonna be awesome!”
“...Yep. Awesome.”