Chapter Twenty-four: Movie Night

Saturday night came into being suddenly, as if Time had suddenly remembered that he'd accidentally added a few extra hours to some other day and wanted to even it all out a bit by skipping a few now.

At this point, I'd become convinced that my conscience would only shut up if I either, a) kept my earbuds in forever, or b) did what it wanted. So far, I hadn't surrendered, despite its constant battery of stinging retorts and biting criticisms. I only needed to make it to tomorrow morning, having gone through with my plan, and then it could rage all it wanted, but it wouldn't be able to change the past any more than I could.

At least, that's what I'd told myself. Anger didn't last forever and over this week, mine towards Ms Ormond had faded, but the fear she had incited had really begun to sink in.

I was in my room, stalling the start of the movie with the very real excuse of homework, though, I reflected grimly, it's not like it would matter much on Monday if I didn't pull this off.

I stared, unseeing, at a particularly hard math problem. What did SOH CAH TOA stand for anyway? Sine equals Opposite and Hypotenuse? Probably something like that.

My pencil sat, untouched, beside my workbook.

A knock suddenly interrupted my inaction, heralding Cara's enquiry.

"Hey Jay, you almost ready for me to put on the movie?"

"Uh, I'm almost done," I lied, examining the series of untouched questions dispassionately, "just let me finish this question."

"Okay, I'll start making the popcorn then."

I went back to gazing into empty space.

'I'm almost done'? My conscience mocked, still using Cara's voice in a misplaced attempt to influence me, so now you're a liar as well as a coward.

I slumped, head resting on the table, and I felt the paper of my workbook crinkle and shift. It smelt like ink and school. Feeling nauseous, I jerked away, getting out of my chair to throw myself onto my bed with a muffled whump.

And how are you going to distract those police officers? Invade their minds, make them see things? Make them think they're going crazy? Show them their worst fears and watch as they run away from you, screaming? I wonder if it'll sound like your class did last year. Don't you remember their screa– I cut my conscience off.

I'm doing it, so you can shut up now. Leave me alone.

I curled in on myself, plunging my hands into my soft blue doona, grabbing bunches of the fabric as I fought the urge to scream into my pillow.

"Done yet?" Cara's voice came from the door again.

There's no going back from this.
I realised that, at this point, I was both terrified of doing it and not doing it. Either way, I couldn't win. I either became a criminal, or I lost my friends and had to attend a government program singling out meta teens. Which was worse, really?
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the origin of such thoughts. Remember life without friends? That's right; it was no life at all.

"Coming," I said weakly, forcing myself to get up and grab my black hoodie with my phone and metro card in the pocket. I wouldn't need much.

I descended the stairs just as Aunty Lin was coming up. She smiled at me and said, "I hope you girls enjoy the movie, I'll be going to bed."

"Yeah," I said, not looking her in the eyes.

"Oh," she said, as if suddenly remembering she'd left the milk out in the sun all day, "and if the boys come down and ask if they can watch, tell them no. I've already told them, but they might try again."

"Okay," I said, smiling at the thought. Des and Charlie would definitely try it. I imagined they were already colluding in not-so-whispered voices in the darkness of their shared bedroom. Most likely, they wouldn't ask. They'd just hide behind the couch or up on the stairs and see how long it took us to notice.

The main lights in the lounge room were off, and the yellow light of the lamp threw shadows across the old carpet and the brown couch, which was covered in wool blankets to ward off the autumnal chill. A bowel of popcorn sat on the worn wooden coffee table, and Cara was crouched in front of the DVD player in her PJs, inserting the disc of whatever movie she'd rented.

I felt the need to announce my presence at the foot of the stairs, but I couldn't speak. I watched as she rose, navigating to the DVD menu with the remote and settling on the couch with the popcorn, arranging blankets and pillows to form a perfect nest for two.

My heart ached with an indecision that had been determined not to acknowledge.
You could tell her the truth.
Could I? But what would that do? I was cornered. This was my only chance for escape.

Cara turned around, looking as if she was going to call up the stairs, but stopped short when she saw me.
"You coming, or were you planning on watching it from over there?" She said, good natured sarcasm colouring her voice. She's your sister. She cares. She's on your side.

"Ah, I'm coming," I said, and hurried over, seating myself awkwardly at the edge of the couch, as if I was ready to run at any time. She looked at me weirdly, and so I quickly attempted to look as if I was relaxed and comfortable. Not planning to betray her at any moment. Definitely not. My insides churned with guilt.

She's not even your actual sister, I tried to justify, but my conscience wasn't having it.

And is it not called betrayal if the person you betray isn't blood related? It said, mimicking the sarcastic tone Cara had only just used.

"So, what are we watching?" I asked, focussing on the TV.
"Twelve Angry Men," Cara said, pressing play and passing me the popcorn.
"What's it about?" I asked as studio names begin plastering themselves across the screen.
"A jury of citizens who are trying to determine the guilt of an eighteen-year-old boy who allegedly murdered his father," Cara said, snuggling deeper into her blankets and taking another handful of popcorn.

As it begins, I realise it's a black and white film, but despite this, I find myself drawn into the story as Juror #8 unflinchingly challenges the beliefs of a room of strangers. I wished I could be brave like that, but even as I was about to strike out with Layla, I realised that I still feel completely terrified.

Barry said that being brave was about standing up for someone else. The only person you're really standing up for is yourself, my conscience helpfully chimed in.

Don't you think I should stand up for myself? I thought, and, for once, it had no response.

A couple of weeks ago, you thought that following Layla was brave, but is following someone else really bravery when you know that what they're doing isn't right?

Who says it isn't right?! We're standing up for ourselves!

By hurting others?

The credits roll.
I don't move a muscle, despite Cara, whose eyes are closed, her chest rising and falling in the slow rhythms of sleep.

Isn't there another way? Didn't you say that you never wanted to hear another person's thoughts, let alone manipulate them to get what you want?

I carefully stood up; eyes fixed on Cara.
Then I sat back down.
Taking a deep breath, I stood up again.

I felt like a charade, like a house of cards that could collapse at any moment with the barest breath of air. And I didn't know if I wanted to do this. I'd been telling myself that I must do this. But every instinct had been screaming at me all week that I didn't want to, and that I shouldn't. That hurting others because I was hurting wasn't right.
That I was scared. And I didn't want to do it.

What are you even scared of? You know you're not going to get caught.

It was true. If I really asked myself, I knew that Layla's plan was a good one. And I could play my part perfectly.

Maybe…maybe I was scared of myself? What I'd become if I did this. If I broke into a police station and destroyed the 'opt-out' for so many people whose powers were so much worse than mine.
And sure, if I didn't do this, I could lose my friends. The government program could be worse even than my current school. But at least I'd still be able to…I don't know. I would still be able to say I'm a decent person. Or at least not someone who broke their promises twice over. Someone who had a sister who cared.

I sat down, tears finally reaching the surface, rolling silently down my face freely in complete contradiction to how I felt. Trapped. I tried to cry quietly, but a few hitched breaths escaped, and I put my head in my hands.

"Jay? What's wrong?"

I let loose a sob. I was finished anyway – there's no way I was getting out without being noticed now – I may as well cry as loudly as I like.

Warm arms wound around my shoulders, and turned my face into her shoulder, leaving wet spots on her t-shirt. Chest-wracking sobs shook my frame as I just clung to Cara.
What am I going to do?
The question was left ignored, and for once, I felt relief. In the circle of her arms, I just let it go. I was so tired. Bone-deep, soul-worn, heart-wrung tired.

Why is life so hard?

I clung to her like that for who knows how long until the tears dried up and still, I stayed there, unwilling to face the decisions that, even now, lay in wait just beyond the protective circle of her arms. A coward to the last, I thought numbly.

Finally, Cara spoke.
"Juliet, please just tell me what's wrong."

I shook my head, all my worries about getting Layla and the others in trouble rising to the surface. What was I doing breaking down to Cara? She'd want an explanation. One that I couldn't give without betraying my friends.

Cara scowled, looking me over as if trying to measure me.
"You can tell me what's going on right now, or I'm going to Aunty."

I sucked in a breath, surprised and a little hurt.
"Why would you do that? I haven't even-" She cuts my instinctive defensiveness off.

"Because you've been acting weird ever since you came back to school and you don't cry like that-," she gestured to my red eyes and the stains on her shirt, "-without something being really wrong. So, spill. What is it, did Romeo break up with you?"

"Hey!" I protested, feeling the sting of an old insult that hasn't been used in a while. I don't say anything else though, but neither does she. She just sits there, glaring at me. Not really in the pointed way that says 'I hate you' but more in the 'I can and will outlast you and learn all your secrets'. Then again, maybe that was just my interpretation.

I sighed.
"I have to do something," I began cautiously, "but I realised that I really don't want to."

"What? An assignment?" Cara said, looking at me sceptically, "This better not be about an assignment."

"Not an assignment!" This is exasperating. I should have known she wouldn't understand. She's rough and doesn't know the meaning of subtle if it bopped her on the nose. I mean, that might make her honest, but honesty isn't the solution to everything. And she cares. And she's my sister. Perhaps honesty was the solution just this once. "Something bad," I admit softly. As soon as I say it, I feel better. What I was planning to do wasn't a good thing.

"How bad?"

"Really bad," I sighed, looking at the ground, "Morally-and-ethically-wrong bad."

"Why did you have to do it then?" Cara said, not scornful, but genuinely concerned.

"Ms Ormond is going to chuck me out."
There. It's out. But it stabs me in the heart to say it aloud.

"What? When?" Cara said grabbing my hand. I looked her in the eyes. Concern. Worry.

"On Monday. She brought me into her office and said that people with unnatural powers like me needed special attention that the school can't give. She wants to put me in the new government program."

Cara sat with that for a minute. Then said, "That's so stupid. She's stupid. But how does that connect to the really-bad-thing-you-don't-want-to-do-but-have-to?"

I examine the rug that covers our laps.
"Someone had an idea that we should break into the police station. I wanted to damage the meta registry files."

Cara squeezed tight on my hands, and I could imagine her eyes narrowing, "Please tell me you didn't agree to that absolutely moronic plan."

I swallow, looking at the floor. I wished I could take the words back.

She groaned, "Juliet! I don't care how stupid the school is, but you won't have any legs to stand on if you go and do something just as wrong!"

"I know that," I muttered, still not meeting her eyes, "but I couldn't think of anything else to do."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. What about telling me earlier? Or coming to Aunty? Or even that superhero friend of yours?"

Her words were like knives, cutting through the last of the thin venire I'd used to hide my protesting conscience. She was right. I had half a dozen people I could have told, but I'd told Layla, even though I had known my subconscious that she wasn't leading me down the right paths.
"I'm supposed to meet them outside the station in an hour."

That stopped Cara's lecture.
"Who."

Thinking back on my sister's warnings, I wondered that she had to ask.
"I think you know. It's not like I hang out with anyone else."

"Layla."

I nodded mutely, hating myself a little bit for the betrayal. But it was Layla or Cara, and I'd already spilled my guts about everything else – what was a name? Especially when Cara had probably already guessed anyway.

Cara let go of my hands to grab her phone, flicking into the phone app, and I panicked, "Wait! You can't call her now!"
But Cara just snorted, pausing to look up at me.
"I'm not calling her, I'm calling the police."

"What?! No! Please don't do that either!"

"Why not? She's planning to break into a police station. Which is a crime." She looked me in the eye, "Calling the police to report a crime is the right thing to do."

"But Layla isn't-" Cara just sighed.

"Look. She made her decision when she decided to pursue this plan. Now you have to make yours. Do you, or do you not think that what she's doing is wrong?"

"I mean, I guess, but her reasons are-"

"I don't care about her reasons! You can reason all you like until you're blue in the face but that doesn't change her actions." Cara's eyes were hard as stone, and my weak protests faded like a flower in winter.

"Yeah," I admit finally, "I know."

"Okay. So can I call the police now?"

I'm about to nod when I have a sudden thought.
"Wait. The police don't know she's a meta."

"What? How do you know that?" Cara looked horrified, or is that terror? Her knuckles are white as they grip the phone, her fingers frozen over the numbers.

"Yes, she told me. She – I -" I hesitate, wracking my brains, but come up with nothing, "I don't actually know what her power is."

Cara puts the phone down, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
"I do."

Author's Note:

This schedule thing totally isn't going to plan sorry XD
Anyway, how was that cliffhanger? Sufficiently suspenseful? Please let me know if it worked or not because *improvement*. That's right - if YOU want me to get better, you should review! *stares at the review section hopefully*

Have a great week!
Trix