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“Can I drink that?”
Vander looked up, eyeing Powder sitting at the bar in front of him. She was looking at the bottle of liquor he was holding. He laughed.
“No, you’re not old enough, Pow Pow,” he said, reaching over and ruffling her hair. Powder stuck her tongue out at him. Vander smiled. “We’ll find you something.”
A customer walked up, quickly distracting Vander from Powder. He turned to the patron and Powder became bored. She started looking for something to entertain herself while Vander worked.
Vi was off at the arcade with Mylo, something about wanting to be alone. She had been acting weird lately, Powder thought. She ignored it though, searching the bar from her seat. There weren’t a lot of people around, but enough that she had to duck out of the way of heavy-footed men who could crush her with one touch.
She could go down to her room and work on her newest invention. Powder hummed, trying to think of a name for the tin creature. It was built from an old can she had found while digging through the trash for scrap parts. No matter how many tests she put it through and how many tweaks she made, it just wouldn’t work.
Vi said she just had to keep trying, but Powder was getting upset with the project.
Finally, she sighed and climbed off her stool, making her way to the basement. She pulled open the door to her and Vi’s room, half expecting her sister to be sitting on her bed. She shook her head, knowing she wouldn’t be back until late, probably.
Powder pulled out a box from under her bed and dug around until she pulled out a crayon. She found her beat up spiral notebook where she scribbled down ideas and drawings.
Powder took her things back up to the bar, feeling a weird crawling sensation under her skin. She didn’t want to be alone. She took her seat back, watching from afar as Vander poured drinks.
“Here you go, Powder,” Vander said, pushing a cup to her. She smiled, taking it. It was full of some sort of sweet juice that melted on her tongue. It tasted amazing. Powder downed half the cup in one go. Vander smiled. “Easy there, don’t choke yourself.”
Powder giggled, wiping the juice off her mouth. “I won’t!” she chirped.
She picked up a purple crayon and began to draw on a clean sheet of paper. She doodled stars and hearts, making little scratches of shading around them. She switched to a nubby blue crayon that was dirty from use. She tuned out the world, humming to herself.
Powder often got lost in her own head. She liked it there, even if it was mean to her sometimes. She filled her page with drawings of stars that were too far away and too cloudy through the undercity night to see.
Powder was only pulled from her thoughts when she picked up on fighting.
She looked to her left, finding several drunken men yelling at Vander. She gasped quietly, shuffling to the side. She shrunk down in her seat, hiding her paper and crayons.
Vander was trying to deescalate the fight, but Powder couldn’t hear the words. She covered her ears, pressing her head against the counter of the bar. Tears filled her eyes. She hated violence. She hated arguing and fights and pain. She tried to look away but found herself entranced.
Someone threw a punch at Vander but he blocked it. Soon the drunken men were fighting themselves. Powder thought she heard a gunshot in all the chaos. She cried harder, staying silent so as to not draw attention to herself. She had been trained from a young age to stay quiet and out of sight.
Vi had taught her when she was only three years old how to muffle her cries. They always had to hide in the depths, always moving and staying out of sight. She remembered Vi covering her eyes and telling her to sing to keep the sounds of horror away.
This felt the same now. She tried to hum to drown out the sounds of the bar fight, but her vocal chords wouldn’t work. She choked on a sob and hit her head against the bar.
Someone grabbed her cup of juice and chucked it at another person. She heard the plastic crack and break through the sounds of the chaos. And that was the final straw.
Powder stepped off her stool and dropped to the floor, curling up in a tiny ball. She pressed her back to the side of the bar, pulling her knees up to her chest and hiding herself away. She cried and cried, almost silently screaming against the fight.
Powder didn’t know when it all melted away. She didn’t know when the fighting stopped and when the bar was quiet again. She wasn’t sure when she heard footsteps approaching her, either.
“Powder? Will you look at me, sweetheart?”
Powder jerked at the sound, fingernails scratching at her legs. She cried harder. She felt gentle but strong arms wrapping around her tiny frame, picking up the eight year old. Vander stood, rocking her back and forth. He took her behind the bar.
“Easy, Powder, easy,” he soothed, holding her close. Powder gripped his shirt and sniffled, trying to reign in her tears. “There you go, there you go,” Vander said.
Vander took her into the back room, rocking her gently until she could calm down. Powder focused on taking deep breaths, slowly feeling her head get clearer. Vander smiled. “There, good girl.” He patted her knee encouragingly.
“Th-they broke my cup,” Powder sniffled.
Vander hummed, thinking.
“Then let’s get you a new one.”
“I wanted that one!” Powder cried.
Vander looked her in the eye, then smiled. “We’ll make it even better, yeah? Come on, girlie.”
Powder was unsure, but took his hand anyway and let him lead her back out to the bar. She took her seat, rubbing at her eyes to dry her tears. Vander looked at her drawing.
“That’s good, Pow Pow,” he said, getting a new cup out for her. Powder looked at it, a plain matte gray and boring as her. She dragged a finger around the rim, thinking.
“Here, I’ve got an idea,” Vander said. Powder looked up, big blue eyes staring at him hopefully.
Hope didn’t exist in the undercity, but little Powder found a way to melt hearts and always stay hopeful no matter what happened. She was too young to understand the atrocities. She was just a child.
Vander pulled out a pocket knife and took the cup into his hands. He looked at her drawings and carefully began copying them onto the cup. Powder watched intently, a smile slowly spreading out across her face. He worked slowly, careful not to make any unintentional marks. He blew off the dust and closed the knife.
“There. Just for you,” he said, setting it down on the table and pouring in some more juice. Powder beamed. “Oh, I almost forgot!” Vander produced a straw, clearly bent up and jagged. It was probably made from melted metal scraps.
He set it in the drink and placed it in front of her. Powder smiled.
Another customer entered and Vander’s attention was diverted once again. Powder watched, taking a drink from her new cup.
The juice had never tasted so good.