12.13.2016
Even Though Your Voice Shakes
?I?m...not sure what?s going on, Miss, but? there?s a whole bunch of people blocking the street. I can?t go no further.?
Grace was only kind of awake, and begrudgingly so at that. Dozing off, she?d been half-dreaming about the warm bed she?d left behind with an even warmer Gypsy King in it, indulging herself in just a little more quiet time before the madness of the salon. Normally, she walked to work, but it was bitterly cold this morning and she was sleepy, and anyway she was looking at another slam-packed, crazy day. The shop was booked solid in advance of the Winterfest Ball.
?Huh?? Aware only that she?d been spoken to, the tiny stylist tried to focus, to snap herself awake. ?I?m sorry,? she tried again with a sheepish smile, more politely this time. ?What did you say??
The cabbie met her eyes in the rear view mirror, and there was a nervous cast to them. ?Streets?re blocked, Miss,? he said as calmly as he could manage, but now that Grace was paying attention, she could detect the note of unease in his voice. ?It?s? I don?t know what this is, but I don?t think we can get through.?
Catching the full swell of her lower lip in her teeth, the little dancer turned wide green eyes out the front windshield, taking in the mass of bodies thronging the streets. The driver was right - there wasn?t a way through, and the assembled crowd had zero interest in moving. Most of them weren?t even looking this way. She frowned and shook her head.
The gypsies were an insular community who tended to keep to themselves--their little tribe was somewhat removed from the everyday goings-on of the city they inhabited. Grace knew more about day to day Rhydin than most of her family, but then she was one of the few who actually had a job in town. This, though, wasn?t something she could remember hearing anything about. Was it a parade? A demonstration? There was a dull impression of noise, chanting or maybe shouting, but with the windows closed up tight and the heater running, neither she nor the man in the front seat could make out what they were saying.
Then she saw the signs. ?End Oppression!? said one. Another: ?Make Rhydin Human Again!?
Grace?s frown deepened, and the driver shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Distracted by the proximity of the movement, she glanced his way, and for the first time, she noticed the way the typically rounded shell of his ear came to a drastic point. ?This is far enough,? she said quietly, reaching into her purse for her wallet. ?Let me out here.?
?Are you sure, Miss?? The man asked, and this time he turned around as much as he could in his seat to look at her directly. She could tell that he was trying, but he didn?t do such a great job of hiding the hope in his voice, the way his shoulders sagged in relief. She gave him the most reassuring smile she could, passing him more than enough money for the trip and a nice tip besides. ?I?m sure,? she confirmed, putting her wallet away and then reaching for her cellphone. ?Thanks for getting me this far.?
He looked uncertain. ?Get out of here, go be somewhere safe,? said the girl a moment later, as she unlatched the door and rose from the car into the frosty morning air. Burying herself deeper in her winter jacket, she sent a few quick messages to her boyfriend. Keeping an eye -and an ear- on the gradually swelling crowd, she hurried down a sidestreet, doubling back into the narrow alley between the shop and the Sassy Owl to get to work.
* * *
?What the hell is going on out there?? Kaja?s question greeted her as she closed the salon door firmly behind her, letting out the breath she hadn?t known she was holding.
Grace looked up, her brilliant green eyes luminescent in the morning?s weak, grayish light as it filtered in the front windows. She gave a shake of her head. ?I don?t know exactly, but I took a cab and couldn?t get all the way here. There?s probably?? Grace counted it up quickly in her head, ?-fortyish people in the square and looked to be more comin? that way when I dipped down the alley.?
The proprietor, always the first to arrive at the salon in the mornings largely because she lived in an elaborate loft apartment above it, poured her diminutive star colorist a cup of coffee. Closing the distance between them to hand off the cup, her gaze was trained beyond the artfully distressed glass of the shop?s store front. Her dark eyes swivelled back and forth, tracking the movements of a man who seemed to be shouting as he paced restlessly back and forth, one hand cupped around the side of his mouth, the other holding a wooden stake with a poster board sign affixed to it.
?It?s a protest?? She arched meticulously penciled brows, glancing back at Grace, who had both hands around her cup with it held close to her face, trying to thaw herself out. Kaja turned her attention back to what was going on outside, squinting. ?What?s the sign say??
?The ones I saw on the way in said something about ending oppression, making Rhydin human again??
?Oh,? intoned the elder of the two, as if that response had told her everything she needed to know, and she turned abruptly, moving away from the windows. ?This is Humanity First stuff.?
The smaller woman?s expression was blank, uncomprehending. ?What now??
Kaja just stared at her. ?Humanity First??
Grace shook her head, her eyes expectant.
?Oh, that?s right. You people don?t pay much mind if it don?t involve you directly.?
A hint of a frown touched her face, but her shoulders rolled in a shrug. She knew Kaja didn?t really mean any harm, despite the implications of the phrase she?d used, but it rankled. ?Hard to want to care what the locals?re doing when the locals go around calling you ?you people?,? she responded evenly, sipping her coffee.
Blinking, the store owner shook her head impatiently. ?...You know that?s not what I meant, Grace.?
Grace nodded. ?Yeah, I do.? A pause. ?But still.?
?Yeah,? Kaja relented with a sigh, nodding in kind. ?But still.?
***
An awkward silence descended between them. Kaja made some excuse about a supply order and disappeared into the back; Grace busied herself with getting her station ready for the day. Maybe twenty minutes later, the opening door brought with it a gust of chill wind and a swirl of muddled voices. She looked up and gave the entering receptionist a friendly smile.
?You made it.?
?Yeah. Jeez there must be sixty people out there!? Stella?s magenta pigtails were slightly askew, and as she leaned against the door she?d just closed behind her, she took a moment to straighten them.
?Then they?re still coming,? commented Grace, eyeing the mussed hair style. ?Did you come through the crowd??
?Yeah,? the young woman breathed a dramatic sigh and then flounced away from the door, smoothing her skirt before she went around straightening a magazine here, a coaster there, around the lobby. ?Didn?t you??
Grace shook her head. ?Nah, didn?t want to risk it. Came down the alley.?
?Oh, yeah, that was probably smart. It wasn?t a big deal though -- you?re human, they?d let you through.?
The tiny stylist paused, her scissors held aloft where she?d been in the process of lifting them out of the disinfectant. Her gaze went back to Stella. ?Kaja said it was about something called Humanity First? What is that, anyway??
?It?s a political movement,? explained the receptionist. Satisfied that the waiting area was client ready, Stella moved over to the side cabinet to turn on the stereo system and pour herself a cup of coffee as she spoke. ?But this might not be them. There?s lots of pro-human groups out there now, I think. Basically, they just think that humans have been kinda screwed over around here, you know? We?re not as strong as the non-humans, we don?t have special super hero powers. We?re vulnerable. Think about it -- if all the non-humans suddenly decided to exterminate us, what could we do? They just want to make Rhydin safe for humans, that?s all.?
The way she described it, Grace got the distinct impression that Stella largely agreed with them. She choked down some more coffee, trying to swallow the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat. Her stomach was in knots, churning unhappily as she carefully wiped the scissors she was holding off and set them down.
?Safe? how??
?Whatcha mean?? Asked Stella, who wasn?t looking at her, couldn?t see the expression on her face.
?How do these people intend to keep humans safe?? Reiterating her question in a calm voice, there was steel in her spine as she stood rigid still, unmoving. Her phone went off in her hands, and Grace glanced down at it, reading the message preview as it came up on the display.
Text from not-King: I was in the shower. You alright?
Text to not-King: So far so good.
Text from not-King: Should I come up there?
Text to not-King: For now things are fine, but I?ll let you know.
She looked up from her phone as Stella elaborated, outlining some of the tenets espoused by some of the groups. The information was sprawling, inflammatory, and probably wildly inaccurate. More than anything, it was stomach turning. The little stylist felt physically ill, dread like a weighted balloon in her belly, and she swallowed roughly against the taste of bile in the back of her throat.
Quinn. Saila. Any number of wonderful people she?d met in this town, segregated and discriminated against and put at risk because they might be dangerous.
Where had she heard that before?
Grace jutted the sharp point of her chin towards the windows, the throng outside that seemed to be ever increasing. The tone of her voice was strange, her vocal cords stretched tight. ?What are they protesting??
?...Uh,? Stella peeked out the front, looking as far down the street as she could in either direction. ?Businesses owned by non-humans, maybe? Isn?t that?? She pointed, jabbing a finger at the glass to the right, ?that tea house down the next block, and the butcher shop next to it? There?s a big crowd down there.?
***
The crowd outside got steadily thicker. Every client who came in had a new story to tell, more updates to relay. A ship set on fire in Dockside. A fae owned bar in Seaside that was defending itself against the crowd--so far. Violence in Little Elfhame, which was distressingly close by, but the information was so spotty, so conflicting, that it was hard to say what real and what was speculation.
Smashed windows, businesses occupied. Non-humans practically held hostage in stores because the crowds wouldn?t let them leave. Every time the news came in, the locations identified were closer, the crowds outside loud and getting louder.
Stella turned the stereo up nearly as far as it would go.
Text from not-King: All quiet, still?
Grace had just finished up with her latest client, checking her messages while the woman paid her tab up front. She was about to respond when the door burst open with such speed and velocity that it crashed back against the windows, shuddering as it rebounded.
The noise it let in was deafening.
?This place is human owned, right?? The man who was demanding to know stood just inside the door, more than a dozen people crowding in behind him. His eyes were wild, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the morning?s exertions.
?We sure are,? Stella crowed back at him proudly. ?Whole staff, too.?
?Good,? the man sniffed dismissively, though he looked at least a little disappointed, itching for a fight he wouldn?t find among these colorfully coiffed but otherwise ordinary women.
Grace?s teeth were set on edge, her jaw clenching as a rage bloomed somewhere behind her ribcage. What Stella said was true, but she?d never wished so strongly as she did in that moment that it wasn?t. And just because the staff was human didn?t mean the patrons were.
Text to not-King: Crowd just barged in demanding to know if the staff is human. I feel sick. And angry. And? maybe you should come.
Text from not-King: On my way.
The man had turned to go, but the same thought Grace had about the patrons seemed to have occurred to him. He swung back around, advanced a few more steps into the shop, craning his neck to peer into the various stations. ?What about your customers??
Stella?s eyes practically popped out of her head then, like it had never occurred to her that some of them might not be human. She too started peering around at the various clients, assessing.
Before she really even knew what she was doing, Grace had put herself between the angry man, his mob, and her store. She had to tip her head back to look up at him, but there was pure fire in those emerald eyes. ?Our customers are paying to be here, and none of your concern.?
His expression lit up, a kind of malicious jubilation on his face. Maybe the fight he wanted so badly could be found here after all. ?Oh, so you willingly serve the non-humans here, do you??
?Sure do. Get the hell out of my store.?
He made to move forward again, maybe to threaten or intimidate her, as though he would bowl right over her to see for himself. He could have, too - at not even five feet and less than a hundred pounds, the gypsy didn?t make for an immovable object. She lifted a hand, held it up so that it would catch him smooth in the middle of his solar-plexus if he came any closer, not giving up even an inch of ground to him.
?Don?t tell me you?re one a? them non-human lovers. You?re a traitor to your race.? He said, loathing and disgust practically dripping from every word.
Grace shrugged, unfazed. ?I?ll side with decency over hate any day. People are people no matter what they?re made up of. Get out of my store. Now.?
?You only think that because they?ve brainwashed you,? the man sneered, leaning into her personal space, towering over her. She could smell the rancid coffee and cheap cigarettes on his breath. ?Open your eyes, sweetheart. They ain?t like us, and we don?t want their kind here anymore.?
She could hear nothing anymore but the roaring between her ears. The room seemed eerily quiet - no stereo, no muffled shouting from outside, not even the droning buzz of clippers. She felt lightheaded, irrational, on the verge of hysterical. Taking a shaking breath, Grace drew herself up to her fullest, still unimpressive height. ?Funny,? she said quietly. ?I?ve been hearing words like that all my life from men like you,? she spit back at him, high blotches of scarlet searing her cheek bones. ?Get out! Get. Out. Get the **** out of my establishment. I won't ask again.?
It couldn?t have been that she was all that intimidating. Maybe it was just that she was distinctly, undeniably human, that she was a delicate looking, fragile thing, shaking like a leaf as she stood up to him and all the people assembled behind him. The kind of pretty, tiny girl who would make the news. Whatever it was, the would-be protester backed down, signaled his people to exit. ?This isn?t worth it,? he declared, turning back to face her from the threshold of the door.
He pointed at her then, thick fingers like an accusation, an exclamation point, a threat. ?We?ll be watching you.?
***
The door closed behind him, and all the color drained from her face. Trembling all over from the surge of adrenaline and raw relief, Grace nearly collapsed against the reception desk, her breath shallow as she tried to compose herself in what felt like an echoing silence that went on forever.
A moment later, the door opened a second time. There was an urgency to it, and Grace stiffened, fearing reprisal or a second wave, only to sag all over again when the frame that filled it was instantly recognizable, all too achingly familiar. ?Y?alright, love?? Mark asked quietly when he?d closed the distance between them, concern etched in every line of his face, his blue eyes earnest as he reached for her.
Grace nodded, moving willingly into his arms. For a long moment she said nothing, her eyes squeezed tightly closed, her forehead pressed to his chest. Breathing in the scent of him, she centered herself, her fingers curled tightly into his shirt.
After several seconds, she pulled away, swallowed roughly, cleared her throat. Turning, her gaze slid rapidly over the room, looking for her receptionist. ?Stella??
?...Yeah?? The girl, who had been conspicuously silent during the entire altercation with the protester, stood up from where she?d been half leaning against, half hiding behind, a counter display.
?Hair or Dye has a zero-tolerance policy regarding discrimination.?
?Yeah, so??
?So, you?re fired.?
***
Stand before the people you fear and speak your mind -- even if your voice shakes.
-Maggie Kuhn
