Indigo in the Storm by Kate Gordon

Indigo in the Storm by Kate Gordon

Author:Kate Gordon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: middle grade;mental health;family;childhood;friendship;emotional regulation;parental separation;abandonment;fostering;growth/change;labelling;identity;changing the world
Publisher: Riveted Press
Published: 2023-05-29T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Twelve

Indigo and Noni sat in the garden of Aster’s house, under a tree, cradling mugs of hot, milky tea.

Indigo never drank tea, before she came to live with Noni and her family. She mostly drank juice or, sometimes, Coke. Milo, if she wanted something hot. She made it in the microwave, which gave the milk a skin.

Tea was new, like everything was new, here.

She didn’t mind it, as long as it had lots of milk. Noni always made it just how she liked it.

Aster was at Xavier’s place—something about sheep, or soap or something. Indigo had been invited but the idea of it exhausted her. The idea of people exhausted Indigo, most days. Knowing what to say. Knowing what to do with her face. Knowing what to do with her hands. Remembering to meet their eyes.

It was all too hard.

It had always been too hard. Even with her mum.

Indigo wanted so badly for her mum to see her as she was, to love her as she was. She never got it quite right.

It was different, with Noni, in another way. Noni knew the bones of her, the darkness of her—she had seen her at her absolute worst. And she never called her bad. When someone has seen you at your worst, and stayed, you don’t have to try so hard.

And she never made Indigo talk. Never made her do anything, really. She was happy just to sit, in silence, drinking tea.

Indigo liked that.

Indigo had never known she liked silence. Her mother was always talking, singing, clattering about, turning up Metallica songs on the radio, swearing at something or someone. Her mother was noise and colour and movement and wildness. And life.

Noni was life, too, but in a different way. A quieter way.

And Indigo, secretly, found Noni’s way calming. She felt much softer, in Noni’s presence, even without the tablets.

As if Noni was reading her mind, she said, quietly, “You took your tablet today?”

She didn’t peer at Indigo, judge her, search her eyes for truth. She only asked. And Indigo felt like, if she chose not to answer, that would be okay.

But she chose to answer. She wanted Noni to trust her. She wanted Noni to know she was doing well.

“Yep.”

“Are they…making you feel okay?”

Indigo nodded. “I guess. I feel different. But not in a bad way, I don’t think. I feel like everything isn’t so close to the edge. Or so noisy. Like life isn’t so…spiky.”

Noni laughed. “Spiky. That’s a good word for it. Have you thought any more about going back to the psychologist? A diagnosis could help a lot.”

“I thought I already had one,” Indigo said, darkly. “They gave me a bunch of names for what I am. A bunch of big words.”

Indigo hated those words.

Hated those labels.

Hated being in a box, like that.

“In the moment when you were…really struggling, yes, those…words made sense. But there might be more than that. And if we know…”

“You’d find other ways to call me a freak?” Indigo snapped, her cheeks flushing.



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