Andromeda hurried down the street, the pavement glistening with rain, hood pulled over her hair. She didn't really care where she was going; She just wanted to get away, to escape from the sickening prejudices that her family tried to force upon her.
She'd never understood her family's views on the world. According to them, anybody who wasn't white, and rich, was inferior, and not to be associated with. She'd questioned these values when she was younger, but she'd quickly learnt that the only route to a peaceful life was to quietly accept whatever her family said. Lately, it had just become too much. She was seventeen, for goodness' sake! And so, that evening, she'd decided to leave- to only gather the most precious and essential of her belongings, and get away from the toxicity that surrounded her.
She was so caught up in her own mind, that she didn't realise there was somebody in front of her until she walked into them.
"Oh, sorry!" she exclaimed, readjusting the rucksack on her back, now damp from the rain. The stranger laughed a little and pulled his hood, which had fallen down, back over his head.
"That's okay," he said. Andromeda realised with a jolt that he was what her mother would call a mudblood. His dark-skinned hands glistened with rain as he shoved them back into the pockets of his coat. His eyes met hers and she knew that he thought her like the others; the only accurate word for it was racist, really. His eyes flicked down to the ground and he started to walk past her. Andromeda felt a sudden urge to change this boy's first impression of her. If she could make just one person believe that she was good, she might be able to believe herself and not go running back to her family, a disgrace to both herself and her name. She caught his arm as he brushed past her.
"Wait!" she said. He turned reluctantly.
"What?" he asked. "Did I drop something?" She shook her head.
"I just wanted- I didn't want you to think-" She faltered.
"You didn't want me to think what?" he asked. She paused for a second.
"I didn't want you to think I was like them. I don't think like that." She knew that he'd know what she was talking about. Anybody would, in this situation, in this social climate. She searched his eyes with hers for a sign of what he was thinking. He cocked his head to one side.
"Why?" he said. Andromeda frowned.
"Because the way they think is horrible! It just-" He interrupted her.
"No, not that. Why do you care what I think? I don't even know you." he said. She glanced at the wet pavement, the rain soaking her jeans.
"I just need someone to know who I am. To know that I don't want to be one of them." The boy was silent for a second.
"You need to sit down. You look exhausted." Andromeda looked at him confusedly.
"Sit down?" He nodded.
"There's a coffee shop just down the street. We can go there if you like." She considered for a moment.
"Well... okay then," she said. She really was very tired, and she was soaked through. She walked down the street with the boy, both staying silent, her casting sidelong glances at him. His responses to her confused her entirely, and she wasn't sure what to make of him. He glanced at her and caught her looking at him. He grinned.
"My name's Ted, by the way. Well, it's Edward, but that's far too formal, don't you think?" She smiled.
"I'm Andromeda," she said. He raised his eyebrows.
"Unusual name," he said, as they reached the coffee shop. He pulled the door open and held it for her. Andromeda breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the warm, dry, café, and smelled the comforting scent of coffee.
"Well, if it's too formal, you could call me Andy, I suppose." Maybe that's the name she would adopt from now on; the name Andromeda seemed to scream that she was from a privileged, prejudiced family.
"Alright, Andy. If you get a table, I'll order," said Ted. "What do you want?" Andromeda pulled her purse out of her pocket and opened it. Her card was in there, of course, but she'd forgotten to actually get any money out.
"Erm..." she stalled, trying to work out if she had enough change to pay for a latte. Ted smiled at her.
"Don't worry, this one's on me." She looked up at him, surprised.
"No, I couldn't-"
"I insist." Andy pursed her lips.
"You interrupt people too much," she said. He raised his eyebrows, waiting. "I'll have a latte, please." He nodded and joined the queue. Andromeda turned to try and find a table. Luckily, the shop wasn't too busy, so she found one without too much difficulty. After a minute or two, Ted made his way through the tables with two cups of steaming liquid in his hands and sat across from her.
"Thank you," she said.
"No problem, Andy," he replied, flashing yet another grin at her. He leaned forward. "So what happened?" he asked. She frowned.
"Who says that anything happened?" she asked. He shrugged.
"Well, you're out on your own, in the rain, at 11:45 pm. Something probably happened." He leant back. "You can tell me, you know." She smiled gratefully. She opened her mouth to reply with something meaningless, like 'it's nothing', or 'it doesn't matter', but somehow ended up relating the whole story to him: the way that her family were, and how she'd been brought up to be like them: how she'd been sent to a school where those beliefs were perpetuated by the children around her: how she'd never agreed with them, not for a second: and how, finally, she'd left, with nothing left to her name, with not even a name to rightfully claim anymore. By the time she'd finished, the shop was empty but for the two of them and the staff. He'd listened to the whole thing, calmly sipping on his drink. The first thing he said after she finished was:
"Well, I think you've definitely proven your point." She looked at him, confused. "You're not one of them. Not at all. I think you're one of the bravest people I've ever met." She frowned at him.
"That's not true. But thank you," she reached over and touched his hand. "I really appreciate it." He smiled at her.
"That's what friends are for."