'Hey Aunty, sorry I didn't see your text before – I don't actually have my wallet on me, so I can't pick up bread. Also, can I stay out with friends tonight? We're going out for dinner and I'll definitely be back by curfew, but I might come back late, and I don't want you to worry.'
I pressed 'send' and held my breath.
A minute or so later, my text was returned.
'Thanks for letting me know – that should be fine. Stay safe and enjoy yourself!'
I sighed in relief, then checked the time, 5:30pm. This time, I was going to set an alarm.
We were sitting in Dee's old red truck. She was driving to a restaurant close to Senator Jones' office that Layla said was good.
We'd spent the afternoon planning, well, mostly Layla did all the planning, but the others contributed a little. The gist of it was this: we were going to eat dinner at the restaurant, then once the Senator's office was definitely closed, we would slip out the back and make our move.
Dinner was delicious, and the restaurant was extravagantly beautiful. I'd never been anywhere as fancy in my life. Red lanterns hung from the ceiling and we were seated at one of the secluded booths that hid along the walls of the eating area. A waiter came and handed out faux leatherbound menus.
Despite having the embarrassing realisation halfway through that I had forgotten my wallet, Layla immediately paid the bill for the whole group without any indication that her doing so was out of the ordinary.
When it came time to leave, I was nervous.
In absence of my earbuds, my hands had gotten all tangled up in my shirt again.
Suddenly, I felt hands on mine.
I looked up, right into Jinn's warm brown eyes.
"Don't be nervous," he said, smiling, "you don't even have the hard part."
"Wont I be the first to get caught if someone finds out?" I asked, doubtful.
"Nah," he said, still smiling, but his eyes were perfectly serious, "you could bail anytime. No-one would know, but then someone could come in and catch us in the act."
"So I do have the hard part."
"Eh," he teased, "I'm not so sure what's hard about standing around."
I snorted, slowly releasing my t-shirt from its death-grip and settling gently into Jinn's warm hands.
Layla borrowed some black spraypaint from Oliver's collection and left to cover the CCTV.
As soon as she came back, we split up again. Dee and Layla went to check the building, Oliver and Jinn began painting the message, and I was left outside, staring into the darkness.
The closest streetlamp was fifty meters away, and it flickered uncertainly, making my heart flutter with it.
What am I doing? I thought I was going to find out more about the Pack, then turn over the leader or something, not basically join them!
I twisted my fingers into my shirt again.
I wished I had my earbuds with me. They made life so much easier.
Just block everything out. Let the world drift by without making any decisions.
The shadows danced, moving uncertainly through the familiar streets and creating phantom silhouettes. Don't think about it.
I heard the distance noise of aerosol and imagined the vandalism I was now an accomplice to. Don't think about it. It's not like you haven't done it before, and it's not like they aren't spraying the truth on that wall.
The streetlamp flickered again.
"So," Dee was suddenly beside me, "you're still here."
"Uh, yeah. I mean, I couldn't just leave you guys," I said, unnerved by the unreadable expression on her face.
"And another lamb gets led into the den…" Dee muttered, her hands squeezing in and out of fists at her sides.
"You-" I stopped, unsure if I wanted to ask, but deciding to continue, remember, be brave, Jules! "You okay?"
Dee ignored my question, and instead of answering, she stared off into the darkness, finally replying with, "D'ya know who this office belongs to?"
"The Senator?" I said, voice lifting up at the end, so it unintentionally became a question. This did not seem to be the Dee I was used to who played Mario Kart with me. I wondered about this side of her, and where she was taking the conversation.
"Senator Jones' office," she said bluntly, and I finally caught on.
"Wait, isn't Layla's last name…?"
"Yup."
Dee's face was still unreadable in the shifting shadows, and I shifted uncomfortably.
"But why would she-?" I asked, but Dee waved my question away.
"Same reason as always; The Wolf wants to send a message," she said, sighing and flexing out her hands, holding them up towards the light.
I'm about to try and ask again, ask why Layla would break into and vandalise her own father's office, but I stop, letting the conversation lapse into silence.
And The Wolf must be the leader of the Pack, I thought, feeling a little better about myself, at least I'm getting some valuable information.
"Does you sister know where you are right now?" Dee asks suddenly, and the whites of her eyes flash as she turns towards me.
"Ah, ye-well, no. Not right now," I answer hesitantly, correcting my instinctual lie. When did it became an instinct to lie about something that used to be so simple? The voice at the back of my head questions, but I don't get a chance to respond.
"Your sister's a good person, you know that?" Dee said softly, looking away.
"Ye-yeah," I said shakily, trying to catch up to Dee's rapid segues. What was she getting at? That I should tell her that I'm with Layla & Co. and helping to vandalise a civic servant's office? Then I realised how bad that actually sounded. Threads of guilt began winding their way through my gut.
"We used to be friends," Dee continued, almost seeming to be talking to herself, "I -"
But she never got to finish her sentence.
"Hey Jules," said Layla from the doorway.
I froze for a good two seconds, my body rigid and my heart's pounding felt like a jackhammer inside my head.
"Dee can take a turn keeping watch so you can see what they're writing."
"O-okay," I said, and found my way through the office's glass door, feet hitting thin carpet and the smell of air freshener wafting over me.
I navigated the unfamiliar room with caution, pausing to lightly touch the doorframes and filing cabinets so as not to crash into anything, yet hesitant every time, as if each new surface could hold a trap. As if one wrong move could have me caught.
Don't think about that.
I came to the end of the hallway where there were two closed doors. The sound of aerosol didn't seem to indicate any particular one, so I tried the doorway to my left.
An empty room greeted me. It looked like a receptionist's office, with the desk oriented to gatekeep another doorway behind it.
I did a double take when I saw a lumpy figure slumped in the chair.
Is that a body?
I must have let out some quiet noise, because Layla turned around to look at me.
"Oh, be careful with her!" She whispered, concern clearly present in her voice.
"Her?"
The short question was all I could manage as a hundred possibilities rushed through my mind, each worse than the one before. Then the figure at the desk let out a loud snore.
"She was asleep when we came in. I don't want to wake her, so try not to make any noise. Now, are you coming?"
I took a steadying breath and nodded, moving silently towards Layla and through the open doorway beside her. She closed it behind us softly.
The smell hit me first.
The boys had always been outside when I'd seen them paint before, so it hadn't smelt as much, but now it was everywhere, a cloying, choking, unbreathable cloud that spray paint created pervaded the room. I tried to make my coughs softer, but at least one of them was rougher and louder than I'd have liked. Hopefully that receptionist was a heavy sleeper.
Cool white torchlight illuminated the blue strokes of paint that now decorated what was presumably the Senator's office. It was sketched in plain lines, not possessing any of the artistic flair I had seen in their previous messages. I supposed they were sacrificing the aesthetic for speed so we could get out of here as soon as possible. I was inclined to agree with the sentiment. This felt…wrong. Or maybe that was just Cara's and Aunty's voices in my head.
'You swore to represent ALL of us. You are failing.'
Oliver finished spraying the stencil of the wolf's paw onto the wall and the boys stood back to admire their handywork.
"Nice job," Layla said from behind me, moving forward to place a hand on Oliver's shoulder, "Now, let's get out of here."
I couldn't help but be glad.
Dee dropped me off a block away from my house. We didn't talk again, she just stared out at the road without saying a word.
I was almost scared to start another conversation with her. She had seemed…I don't know, maybe angry when we'd last spoke, and I thought treading softly would be my best bet. I had enough to think about anyhow.
Why would Layla…?
I can't do this right now, I told my conscience, deliberately ignoring the guinea pig gnawing my intestines from the inside out.
Funny, that. When you know that if you think about something, you were going to have to make a decision, a decision you weren't going to like.
No. Not yet. Let me stay in the dark, for just a second longer.
I fell into bed desperately trying to evade my own thoughts, which turned into a fitful, restless slumber.
The bright morning sun slips through my window, falling across my face uncomfortably.
I throw an arm over my eyes, revelling in the brief moment of nothingness, the sweet blankness of my brain.
Blank from what?
I remember last night and my questions and conscience.
The moment is gone.
I groan and roll over, facing the door. I need to get up, to do something.
Soon I'm showered, dressed, and eating breakfast downstairs. Sunday mornings are always quiet, so no one was around to distract me, unfortunately.
"Does your sister know where you are right now?"
The guilt that had been gnawing contentedly all morning suddenly flared up, stabbing me in the gut like a knife.
I remembered how her face had shut down that night when I'd refused to talk. How she'd tried again the next morning. Shouldn't I know how rare that was for her? That by letting me in, allowing me to be her sister, she'd opened herself up to being vulnerable, to being hurt. And I'd confirmed her fear. Yet she still was trying to fix things with me.
I shouldn't have broken my promise. And she was probably right – anything that starts after 10pm is sure to be trouble. I know that now, after last night. Yet even after I'd talked to Caitlin, I just ran away from her.
I sighed heavily and slumped forward, bracing myself on the plastic-covered kitchen countertop. Then I took another bite of toast.
She's probably going to still be mad, my little inner voice decided to tell me. Yes, thanks, I knew that.
You broke your promise, and then you shouted at her and gave her the cold shoulder.
No need to remind me.
You were pretty rude, even though you were the one who did something wrong.
Yes, yes, I KNOW! I know she's mad, I know this is going to be harder than I thought, and I know…I took a deep breath, hating the coming confrontation that my stupid conscience had lined me up for.
What if she doesn't forgive me?
My memories open up of times before that talk in the hospital. Before we'd decided to be better sisters. Before we had become friends.
I don't want to do this.
When I resolved to apologise after talking to Caitlin it had felt easy, however actually doing it seemed so much harder. But leaving things as they were…well, leaving things as they were wouldn't be pretty. Apologising at least had the potential to make things better between us.
My inner struggle was cut short when someone walked into the kitchen.
Cara.
I swore inwardly, looking anywhere but at her.
"Jay?"
Her voice was wary, but not accusing. And she had used the nickname she had selected for me. It felt too soon to apologise though. I wasn't prepared, I didn't know what to say. But I had to say something, or she'd think I was still mad, which I wasn't. What could I say though?
The silence stretched out like an elastic band, the potential for it to snap increasing with every second.
"Uh, good morning?" I said, though it sounded more like a question than a greeting.
"Are you ready to talk yet? Because -" she took a breath, and hardened her voice a little, "-the longer you leave this, the less likely-"
I cut her off quickly, "Yes, uh, I, I wanted to apologise."
So much for preparing.
She sat down, and I took another bite of my toast.
"I'm sorry," I said hesitantly, unsure what to say or how to say it.
"For what," Cara asked coolly, "breaking your promise, ignoring me, yelling at me, or just being downright rude?"
"All of it?"
She sighed, turning to me with tired eyes and face that looked like it had seen the bleak midwinter in the middle of a blizzard, and didn't think we were going to make it.
Eventually, she told me, "You're going to have to try a little harder than that."
"I know, sorry," I said, trying to collect my thoughts enough to assemble even the barest bones of an apology. The silence stretched again.
"I," Cara started, then stopped. She tried again, "I've lost – oh, f*** it. Look. If you're not sorry, just say so. I'd rather we be clear with each other than you pretending to apologise and then having a repeat next Friday night when Layla decides to -"
"I am sorry!" I said, my own self-protectiveness flaring up, "Is it my fault I don't know how to say it properly?"
"Whoa," Cara said, leaning back, "I just asked, no need to be so defensive."
"Right. Sorry," I said, lowering my voice, "I guess it's just that I know I was a jerk and awful and broke my promise and then instead of talking I ignored you and I shouldn't have done any of that, but I don't know how to say it. My, uh, my parents weren't the best role models, I suppose you could say," I finished lamely.
"Just like that," Cara said with a ghost of a smile on her lips.
"What?"
"You just apologised. The only thing missing was a commitment to try and not make the same mistake next time something like that happens," Cara said, still facing me. Her eyes seemed a little lighter now.
"Ah, well, I promise not to do it again then," I said, awkwardly, surprised it was so easy. When Mum and Da used to fight, they rarely ever apologised, and even when one of them tried, it would only start the fighting again.
"Thanks for apologising," Cara said, then turned her gaze down to study the countertop, "I guess it's my turn now."
"For what?"
"I'm sorry I called you naïve and stupid. That isn't true and even though I was angry and upset, I shouldn't have called you that. I'll try and control my mouth better in future."
"Uh, I'm pretty sure those words did apply at the time," I said, feeling awkward. Why would she need to apologise for that? Especially since they're probably still true after last night. I am naïve, and maybe I've gone in too deep. That's something to worry about later though. Right now, focus on this. You can at least fix this.
"Still. Doesn't mean I should've said them," Cara said quietly, getting up, "Anyway, so, are we good?"
"Definitely," I said, smiling tentatively. The hungry guinea pig in my stomach stopped gnawing, and my conscience's nagging eased up.
"Oh, and Aunty said you went out with friends last night, did you have fun?" She asked politely as she got her cereal out of the cupboard.
"Uh, yeah," I half lied, and the guinea pig was back.
Darn.
Author's Note:
Sorry! This is SO much later than I intended. I'm was reworking some of the final chapters and then I joined the Adventures in Narnia forum's February challenge (check it out - it's awesome!), not to mention I've been pretty busy irl, so to say I've been somewhat overwhelmed is an understatement, but never fear! I will most certainly continue with this until the end :)
Reviews are some of the non-physical food that sustains my writing self, so please please please review!
Trix