and considered his work. ‘Not bad, not bad at all. Turn around.’
Freya turned slowly and raised her hands high over her head. ‘Well? Can you see my wings?’
Archie shook his head. ‘Nope. You just look like you’ve got a hunched back. No one would ever suspect you had wings.’
Freya looked down at herself. ‘Do I look Steampunk?’
Archie laughed too. ‘A Steampunk angel? Why not!’
Freya lifted a finger. ‘No, Archie, a Steampunk Valkyrie.’
Hours later, Freya sat in Archie’s kitchen as he made them salad and macaroni with cheese. She watched him in fascination as he prepared the food with the confidence of one who had done it many times before.
‘Are you always alone?’
Archie nodded. ‘My brother has been away two years already and my mom is rarely here. Even when she is home, it’s like she’s not.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Archie stopped what he was doing and sat at the table with her. ‘It’s like this,’ he started awkwardly. ‘My mom drinks, a lot. When it’s really bad she disappears, sometimes for weeks. She doesn’t call and won’t tell me where she’s going. But she always comes home. But sometimes, that’s even worse than when she’s gone.’
‘How can you live like this?’ Freya asked. ‘Don’t you have other family?’
Archie shook his head. ‘I’m doing all right,’ he said. ‘I earn extra money by delivering newspapers in the mornings before school. And my mother gets assistance. I use her bank card to buy food and pay the bills. A social worker visits, but not very often and she doesn’t seem to care that my mom is a drunk.’
Freya watched Archie as he rose and got back to work. His words were brave, but his inner feelings betrayed him. He was very lonely.
‘I understand, Archie. I have seen what drink can do to humans.’
Archie turned to her, inviting her to say more.
‘Where I come from, we have a place called Valhalla. Human warriors spend all day fighting, and then drink all night. My father is there, somewhere. But I’ve never met him. After seeing what drink does to them, I don’t want to.’
‘Your father is human?’ Archie asked in shock.
Freya nodded.
‘Wow,’ he said softly. ‘We’ve both got parents with drink problems.’
Freya had never thought of it that way, but he was right. They weren’t so different after all.
Eating human food was something she had never experienced before. Orus was beside her, picking at his own bowl full of the cheesy macaroni and getting it all over his smooth black feathers.
When she finished, Freya sighed contentedly.
‘Does it hurt having them?’ Archie asked as his eyes lingered on her semi-open wings. The way she sat meant the bottom, flight-feathers rested on the floor.
Freya shrugged. ‘Not really. I’ve always had wings, so I don’t know what it’s like not to have them.’
‘But you can’t sleep on your back or sit properly.’ He pointed to the way she had to sit with the chair turned back to front to avoid leaning against her wings.
‘No, I guess not. But I can fly, and that makes up for it. There is nothing better than flying really high and pulling in your wings to dive. Right before you hit the ground you open your wings and soar.’
Archie sighed wistfully. ‘That sounds amazing. I wish I had wings. Then I could fly away from here too.’
‘Where would you go?’
‘I don’t know, just away.’ Archie pulled open his laptop computer. He paused. ‘You said you can’t tell me your name. But I have to call you something.’
Freya considered.
‘Don’t do it, Freya,’ Orus warned. ‘Don’t give him your true name.’
She looked at the raven. ‘I’m not going to. I’m just thinking.’ Finally she nodded. ‘I know. Archie, you can call me Greta, just like in the comic.’
‘Greta?’ Archie cried. ‘Are you serious? Did you look at her? She’s . . . she’s . . .’
‘She’s what?’
‘Well, she’s not you. You’re pretty – Gruesome Greta is definitely not.’
For the first time in her long life, Freya blushed. She had never thought of herself as even remotely pretty. All she was known for in Asgard was being a great flyer. It was her sisters who held all the beauty in the family. ‘You really think I’m pretty?’
‘Of course you are,’ Archie said.
His comment was so unexpected, Freya was lost for words.
‘How many times have I said the same thing,’ Orus remarked.
‘But, but I’m not,’ Freya said, flushing. ‘My sisters are the beautiful ones, not me.’
‘Well, you are,’ Archie said. ‘So I can’t call you Greta.’
‘But I like