Do y'all know how excited I've been to upload this chapter? I finished it so freaking quickly but couldn't upload until I finished the next chapter (which all in all, took four days to complete). I'm very proud of how this came out, so lets get on with the show!
"Raven—on your right!"
I heard the voice calling a name that wasn't mine. I looked anyway.
Raven's eyes were wild, hot. They shot in the direction her name had come from before her jaw went slack when she saw the Mutant charging for her. It was dark and fast—a bullet. She rolled out of the way and phased through its form before its claws could land on her.
When she landed on her feet, fists squeezed, her eyes had hardened into thorns. The Mutant whirled around. She glanced between both creatures, now surrounding her.
Instincts seared down my spine. I turned my face back to the Mutant that I had been facing. I needed to deal with this one first. The magic twisted before me, acting as a force that kept the Mutant handcuffed to stop it from lashing out. But it also had my surroundings spinning. Everything twisted and tied together until my stomach was rocking back and forth in my throat. I clashed my teeth together. Blinked—tried to get rid of the headache. Heat crept under my skin, sweat slipped behind my ears. I lifted my hands so that the forcefield followed, heaving the Mutant into the air.
The world curdled, like it was condensing its weight to press into me. I buckled beneath the denseness. It travelled down my body and sent a heat into my stomach that rattled in my knees. I cleared my throat, shaking my face and pushed through the haziness until I found my knife in my boot. It was cold, relieving. I spun it between my fingers as I rose my eyes back to the Mutant, tilting my head until I had fixed the perfect angle.
And then, I released the knife.
I whirled around without checking if I made target. I didn't need to. My senses were sharp, I could feel the blade as it sunk into the flesh. I fixed my attention back onto Raven. Pressure rolled down my face in the form of hot beads. When had it gotten so humid?
I swiped the hair from my face and leapt forward. I landed on my hands then used the momentum to push forward through the handstand until my feet had knocked into the Mutant's face.
The creature was sent backwards to the ground.
I rolled backwards until I was back on my feet. The world slurred like it had been shoved. Weight rocked in my shoes. I pressed my toes into the ground to steady myself. Heat pressed into the sides of my face. I held out a hand. Raven was watching, I could feel her without looking. I waited until I could hear the air splitting into a whistling sound from behind me. The blade shot over my shoulder and pierced the Mutant's shoulder.
"What're you doing here, meathead?" I heard her demanding.
I didn't answer at first.
I swung my fist to the side. The action sent out a warmth that had been flaring in my chest. It surged out into a light that circled around us before the explosion could burst. Sounds barrelled into the field. The blaze billowed like a storm. Charred noises crashed then slumped like we were underwater. I could feel my heart punching my throat. There was a beating from the corner of my eyes. It swelled until the world followed its actions, pounding beneath my feet.
I looked over my shoulder.
Raven had her eyes on me rather than the explosion.
I pretended not to see her anger.
"My job," was my answer.
I swished my fingers. The action made the forcefield scatter and coolness batter back into our necks, down our faces.
Raven looked ready to say something else. But then, a noise came from our left.
We both glanced at it.
It was Phoebe.
She was her Guardian–self. Her face was contorted, hardened. Her eyes a storm, lit with sparks. She had her hands rolled into fists by her sides. The creature across from her, it snarled then launched its claws at her. Her lips pulled back to reveal gritted teeth. She struck up her forearm, catching the attack on her vambraces. The claws screeched as she pushed back against the attack, then darted forward. She knocked her palm into its nose.
"She learnt quick," Raven noted. She had moved so that she was standing beside me. Her arms were crossed as she watched Phoebe, who hadn't noticed her audience.
I frowned. "She knows Krav Maga."
Like it took away from her brilliance.
"Still impressive."
Phoebe swished out a knife from her belt, swinging it around until she had pushed it into the Mutant's throat. Her expression didn't falter when the skin cracked beneath her hands. The sight made my chest sink. She shifted on her feet, sending out her wire before the creature could explode. She leapt from the ground into the air. Her knees and ankles knocked together. Had I not been watching so closely, I wouldn't have noticed that two more of her knives vanished from around her belt. There was a moment where an iridescent flare circled from the blades before they vanished like they had been bubbles popped. I blinked, looking for where they may have gone before my eyes landed on the Mutants that had been gathering around her—two. The blades appeared, pushing into their faces like someone had forced them there. The action sent the creatures to their knees, screeching.
I could feel Phoebe smirking as she detached her wires and swung horizontally until her foot had smacked into a particularly large Mutant. The force sent the creature staggering backwards to the ground. She used the momentum that action had gained her to flip backwards into a crouch.
Her palms flattened against the ground and her leg stretched to the side. Her head snapped upwards, eyes raising to her opponents.
I rolled my eyes at the display.
The Mutant lifted itself from the ground then charged for her. She mirrored its movements and shot in its direction. The creature swung for her face but, swinging backwards on the balls of her feet, she ducked beneath the attack then swivelled around.
The Mutant whirled, following her, and attacked again.
"She's amazing!" Raven cried, watching as the pair fought.
She's being a total show–off.
I opened my mouth to say as such, when I noticed the Mutant that approached her from behind.
"She's also out of weapons," I murmured before racing forward.
I heard the tailend of Raven's, "Huh?" before I punched the air and sent my wire out. It pulled me forward into a rushing haze until I was next to Phoebe. The girl glanced in confusion, but I acted before she could say anything. I thrusted my hands forward and sent a forcefield hurtling until it had slammed into a Mutant.
"Helga?!" Phoebe was struggling against her own Mutant so she could only spare a quick glance over her shoulder. "What're yo—"
I swung around and slammed my foot into the Mutant's chest. The action earned a surprised choking sound from the Mutant and Phoebe stumbled forward as it clattered to the ground. I had my hands out to catch her, but she righted herself without noticing my help. I shook my face—trying to stop the images that caught onto each other—then swung my fist in the Mutant's direction. Light swept from my skin, shooting forward, and hooked around the Mutant. It seized the creature then swept it into the air. Lights gathered around it to turn the ground into gloss.
The knife in my hand—I didn't know where it had come from, but I didn't question it. The world was gathering and tying itself together like it had lost its support. I sent the blade through the air until it had hit the creature.
A second passed where Phoebe turned her gaze over to my form, when a snarling came from behind. I spun around to the last Mutant which had begun running in our direction. I could sense that Phoebe was hardening her stance—readying to take it. I should have let it happen. The heat beneath my skin was already turning everything into slush. But something shot through me, a familiar feeling. It was ugly, it was rotten. It started from my stomach then slithered up into my chest, a hot weight. It twisted and turned and before I knew it, a warmth shot through me and burned my joints. I moved my hand so that it mimicked a gun, pointing at the Mutant. The warmth passed from my fingers like a dart. It shot forward into a bullet that smacked into the Mutant's nose.
I then moved—fast.
Swinging my blade from my palms, I sent it forward until it had plunged into the Mutant's chest.
The collusion had the explosion ripping through the air like it had been containing itself for years. The rippling heaved in our direction, but I slammed my fists down to my sides. The forcefield appeared around us like it were a cocoon. It was cold, but my face was warm. I watched its lights twist and dazzle but couldn't see past the swaying that had my knees wobbling. Sounds bashed into the barrier, but they were muffled from the heat that pushed into my head. I didn't know how long it took for the explosion to scatter but the entire time, the air had become weighted. The attention was forcing itself onto me. I clamped my lips together then twisted my wrists, making the forcefield disappear.
Phoebe didn't say anything. But I could feel her looking at me.
I didn't look back.
Instead, I glanced around. Watched as the world around us shimmered. It rippled, pulled and tightened before vanishing. The lights drew backwards, retreated until they had folded back into the corners. The air cleared, the darkness lightened, until we were standing where we had begun—the training room.
Silence descended over the room. No one dared move or speak.
I could feel the flush creeping back into my throat. I opened my mouth to say something when a weight smacked into my shoulder.
"Ow!"
"The hell was that, dumbass?!" she screeched from behind me.
Mentally, I sighed. And then, there was Rhonda.
Rubbing my shoulder, I turned around and glowered at her. But she had already beat me to the punch—ha—and was glaring at me like I had set her house on fire.
"What was what?!"
"That!" Raven gestured furiously around the room. I raised my eyebrows. "That thing you were doing to show off!"
"I wasn't showing off!"
"You took all our kills!"
"Helga," Nel's voice poked through the seams of our argument. It had us all falling into a silence as we turned in her direction.
We hadn't even realised that she and Lila had left their room in the back. But the door was already shut and they were approaching us.
Lila hadn't transformed. She was still healing from the attack, a couple of days ago. I had been relieved to learn that those wounds would heals, those scars would fade. But it would take a little longer than what we had gotten used to, for her to begin running around like she normally did. And ever since then, Guardianship had primarily fallen on the rest of us.
Today, she wore a tangerine skirt that reached her ankles and a cream–coloured shirt that she had tied into a knot at her abdomen. She was silent as she followed Nel. I couldn't read her expression. She looked at us, but her stare was paper–thin, like she had no thoughts of her own.
"She's right."
I snorted.
"This is a team exercise," Nel continued. "Training. Everyone must learn how to fight, not just you."
I crossed my arms. "Why would you get me to join then?"
"To help them," she insisted, like she was trying to explain to me kindergarten math. I scowled. "You've been fighting the longest. While there are certainly areas you can improve on—as Phoebe has informed us—you, by far, have the most experience being out on the field. Today was for you to guide and help them adjust to what you do—as a team."
"So, I'm not supposed to defeat the bad guys then?" I scoffed, knowing that that wasn't what she meant.
"No, you can still defeat them," she made a face like that word had personally offended her. Or, more likely, like my attitude was personally offending her. "But as a team. Today was about learning to move as a group, not an individual. Minus Lila, of course."
Lila nodded the smallest fraction. But her expression didn't crack.
I frowned, wondering why she was acting like that.
"Yeah," Raven nodded, frowning. "This was a practise run! We're supposed to fight together, not show off and take all the credit! Not everything is an opportunity to feed your massive inferiority complex!"
My jaw dropped and I whirled on her.
"Wha—I do not have an inferiority complex!"
"You so do," Raven rolled her eyes and waved her hand like she had already had this conversation and it now bored her. Lila frowned her surprise. "But you like to mask it with the adrenaline you feel whenever you're Blue Jay. It's what makes you so eager to keep playing the hero."
"I'm eager to play Blue Jay because I care about saving people, Rhonda," I said despite the sinking sensation in my chest. The ugliness that kept twisting itself into a decaying shade. "It's my duty."
Raven merely raised an eyebrow at that.
"No one's motivations are purely altruistic. There's always a hint of self–interest behind everything. And you—" she stabbed her finger into my shoulder. "—get off on always playing the hero and saving people and being like, 'I am Blue Jay, hear me roar,' because you like the feeling that it gives you. You like to be above everyone, being all in the know and using super cool powers and all that, because it makes you different, special. You feel important—justified."
Everyone stared at her in complete silence.
"What?" Raven looked between the stares. "She's an open book!"
I scowled.
"Well, maybe you just weren't on your A game. Did that ever occur to you lot?" I snapped. "If you both were quicker or more alert, there wouldn't have been a chance for me to swoop in and 'play the hero'."
That last part, I mimicked with bunny ears. Because that's exactly how I regarded what Rhonda was saying.
"But you weren't on your A game."
The voice was small—a pearl that had gotten caught between the crashing thunder—but it pierced the air and thrashed in my chest.
Everyone went quiet.
Slowly, we turned in Phoebe's direction.
I had forgotten that she was stood there—behind me. She was still quiet when she wanted to be. Her expression had softened since her fight, but she didn't crumble like she often did. Her eyes stayed on mine, bleach to my skin.
"What?"
She hesitated before she spoke.
"You're not on your A game—or what could be your A game—because, well, your habits. You're falling back into them," her shoulders slid back from her hunched stances as she eased into her explanation. "You still rely far too much on your fists. When you're attacking and when you're using your shields. They're your main method which does you a disservice. You're still jumping into fights without a thought. You don't allow the time to stop and analyse the situation—maybe come up with a plan. Look to us to ask if we need a plan. You rely too much on your instincts . . ."
She trailed off, like the gravity of her words were catching up with her.
It angered me.
"And?" I rose an eyebrow and stepped closer. I could hear Raven inching closer and knew that she was worried that I was going to go too far.
Phoebe ducked her face. "Sorry, I—I'll stop. I shouldn't have said any—"
"No, go on," I insisted. I could feel Raven's stare boring into my neck. It burned, a fever burrowing into my skin. "You're the smart one. By all means, if there's ways that I can improve, then it should be coming from you."
Phoebe cast an uncertain look to the women in the room. It made something bubble in my chest.
"Rhonda's right," she admitted. I scoffed before I could stop myself. "You're letting your feelings of inadequacy dictate your actions."
"I'm sorry, I must've taken a wrong turn. I thought I was in a training room, not a shrink's office," I stepped backwards and angled myself to face everyone. "I mean, hello, what are my personal feelings to you anyway? Not that you're even correct but regardless, they have nothing to do with you."
Raven crossed his arms. "They do when you're Blue Jay."
"You're the most experienced out of all of us," Phoebe continued but her voice was softer. She stepped forward and was trying to gather my gaze in hers. "You have so much to teach us, but you keep . . . taking all of our hits. Like you're trying to prove that you should still be here—on the team."
Her words made me reel back.
"First of all, that is totally out of line. I mean, I expect the princess to say some shit like that, but you, Pheebs? What the hell?" I glared at her. The bubbling had turned into a heat that made my lungs pink and swollen. It made everything burst into a smoke that made it hard to breathe. The ache of it burned. "Second of all, so much to teach you? You're the one who keeps telling me how to do my job. You've been doing it ever since you joined the team. You can't have it both ways."
Nel suddenly spoke. "Yes, you can."
"Seriously Nel? You're on their side?" I tried not to let the hurt show in my voice.
"There aren't any sides. But there are points, Helga," she explained. She didn't have the gentleness that Phoebe had, but she also lacked Raven's anger. "Normally, I would agree with you: personal feelings are not our playgrounds and we shouldn't discuss them with such obtuseness. However, as Rhonda has explained, if they are interfering with your actions—and thus, interfering with your role as a Guardian—then they should be discussed. Albeit, with more delicacy."
Phoebe sent her apologises through a smile, at least having the decency to look like she agreed.
Raven, on the other hand, rolled her eyes.
"And moreso, yes, Helga, you can both teach while being taught. It is not a binary," Nel continued. "You are all remarkable people with vastly different perspectives. I believe it to be beneficial for you to learn from each other."
"This isn't daycare Nel, there's fuckers out there who want to take our lives," I snapped then turned round to Phoebe. "But sure, whatever. Let's learn then. Pheebs, what would you suggest that I do then? About the bad habits, of course."
"Slow down," she answered. "You don't even hesitate anymore—you just do. And because of that, you put yourself into situations where you are out–numbered while still using basic methods. You still struggle to hold your shields—you think you're hiding it, but we can all see it, Helga—and it's becoming more obvious the longer that you fight. It isn't long until a Mutant, or worse, those guys, notice it and use it to their advantage. And you're always running off, so we don't get the chance to help you, even if something like that were to happen.
"You haven't given yourself time to learn," she continued in a softer tone. "You just use your shields to power up your hits and sometimes restrict Mutants—but that's it. You haven't stopped to fully realise how powerful your abilities are, and you haven't even given us the chance to learn how powerful we are."
I stared at her.
"Yeah, I agree with that," Raven nodded.
Their agreement had something hissing from my throat. It burned, rolling until smoke was filling my chest. It was thick, like they wanted me to taste poison.
"What, so now you're saying that I have to stop instead of fight?" I stepped forward, hands on my hips. "I don't have that luxury—none of us do. If you pause like you're suggesting—"
"That's what training's for, dummy," Raven butted in. "We're supposed to figure that out here so we can fight better out there."
I crossed my arms.
"Is there a problem, Helga?"
"I just think that it's funny that I'm expected to take the advice from someone who can't even use her own powers correctly."
There—I said it.
What everyone had been walking around all day. And as expected, it brought on a reaction from the whole room.
"Helga," Nel's jaw dropped.
"Yowch," Raven pulled a face, reeling back to look at me.
Phoebe dropped her gaze.
"What?" I looked between each of them. "It's true! Ever since that night, Phoebe hasn't been able to teleport properly."
It had become something that we had wordlessly agreed not to talk about, as a team anyway. I knew that Nel had spoken to Phoebe about it, that even Rhonda had. But never as a group. Because if it became something that the group talked about, that it was recognised as the problem that it was, then that would solidify everything. That would cement the fact: Phoebe was powerless. Something was wrong with her. She had taken this chance, but already, she was failing at something.
She hadn't yet freaked out, but I knew it would be a matter of time. The calm was delicate—fragile—and a single word could send everything into tiny fragments.
And I had done exactly that.
Raven was looking at me, I could feel her. But it was different from before when it had merely been in frustration. Exasperation. Now, she looked at me in disappointment. I had disappointed her—again.
I moved my face away from hers.
I knew what this made me.
'You care too much.'
I didn't care.
"I can teleport," Phoebe insisted. She had her hands wrapped around her elbows as she glared down at the floor. "I just—I have to relearn how to teleport myself again."
I snorted.
"I can still teleport other things!"
"Yeah, and look at how well that turned out," I nodded my head in the direction that the explosion had happened. "You got surrounded and I had to jump in and save you."
"And we're back to the root of the problem, ladies and gentlemen," Raven announced, rolling her face like she was addressing a crowd.
"No, the root of the problem is that you're an asshole," I stabbed my finger into her shoulder. I expected—hoped—that that would get a reaction out of her. That it would make her angry. But she merely crossed her arms. Knowing I would get nowhere with her, I turned my attention elsewhere and found myself looking at Lila. "And what about you then?"
"Huh?"
"What do you have to say?" I frowned, somewhat hurt that she didn't seem to mind that I had been getting ganged up on. "You haven't said a word since we got here."
Lila didn't answer at first.
She merely looked between us like she had been called out during class where she hadn't been paying attention.
"Uhh . . ."
I cocked a brow. Maybe she hadn't been paying attention.
"Yeah, you've been majorly tight lipped," Raven said. She leaned around me so she could eye the redhead. "This is a group discussion. A team exercise. Trust building."
"Not exactly how I would have hoped to build trust," Nel muttered.
I rolled my eyes. Finally, something we agreed on.
"I—" Lila looked alarmed. She looked at everyone, taking her time before she got to me. She then sighed, the tension dropping from her expression. "I'm sorry Helga, but I . . . I kind of agree with Rhonda."
My jaw dropped.
"What?!" I wheeled backwards from the betrayal. Raven let out a small noise when I accidentally bumped into her. "You're actually siding with them? These idiots? Seriously?"
Raven cocked a brow. "Idiots?"
"No sides," Nel tried butting in.
Both were ignored, of course.
"I—they have a point," Lila crossed her arms. She had a frown like she was reluctant to keep speaking. But something in her eyes remained fixed, even as she lowered them to the ground. "I don't agree with how it's being said, but you . . . you let yourself get carried away with your feelings and your insecurities. They are what motivates you, and I . . . that's dangerous. Not just to you, but us. And I'm sorry but it isn't just about you—it's about the team. You could get us in serious trouble."
I stared at her and waited. Hoped. Prayed that she was lying, that she would burst, "Sike!" then turn to the others and tell them off. Tell them that they were wrong. Tell them that this wasn't who I was—someone who was trying to find her identity in other people's misery. Tell me that I was better than that.
But she never did.
She raised her eyes so they met mine and instantly, I knew. She wasn't taking it back.
The realisation was a light. One that burned as much as it revealed. It hurt like scorch marks to my neck. Bruises singeing my chest. I thought that maybe I was getting better, that I had learned to spread my wings and make life easier for everyone. But in that crashing moment, I realised that I hadn't been making anything better for anyone. I had been making them worse—as usual. And with that, I knew that everyone was looking at me and seeing me for what I was: selfish. Cruel. Insignficant. Worthless.
Failure.
The hope in my chest twisted until it turned into snakes.
And I knew that I needed to get out of there before I spat poison and said something that I would regret.
"I'm out."
I didn't meet their faces as I turned for the door.
"Helga, wait! You can't leave the team!" Nel insisted. "The world—"
"I'm not leaving the team," I murmured. I wasn't even sure if she could hear me. But I knew that I had to keep my voice low otherwise it would begin shaking. "I'm leaving training."
"But—"
"Ciao."
Despite thinking myself to be an enigmatic person, I must have been broadcasting my thoughts because stomping down the park, people took one look at me then hopped out of my way. I wanted to be hurt by that—maybe I was—but I couldn't feel anything but a dull acceptance. I had been buried under too much rubble, too much hurt had been stuffed into my body, that I didn't have it in me to add anything else to that list.
Gravel crunched beneath my feet. I marched through the park with an ice cream cone in hand. I hadn't been hungry but knew that I needed something—preferably, something with sugar.
It had been hours. You would think that I would be over it, but I wasn't. I was pissed; I was hurt, I was confused, and I didn't know what to do with it all. Hence the stomping.
"Dumb, stupid Phoebe," I murmured to myself then angrily bit into my ice cream. "And Nel. And Lila. Oh, and dumb, ugly faced Rhonda! 'You never hesitate, Helga.' Yeah, if I did, we'd all be dead! How hard is that to understand?!"
The words echoed cruelly. Because I knew that I hadn't been aiming that question at anyone but myself. How hard was it to understand, Helga?
I came to a stop.
Hurt poured thick, burning my ears and muffling the sounds. I couldn't see anything but her eyes—reluctant and heavy. But honest. And I couldn't hear anything but her voice—
'You could get us into serious trouble.'
Smoke must have gone up because I could feel it watering my eyes. It hurt. Everything hurt. I could feel my heart pounding so hard like it wanted to escape, like it needed to be free. Like I needed to be free. But everything had tripled its weight and become too heavy. The air had thickened so that it moved like cigarette smoke which made it hard to breathe.
Was I just using everyone?
Sunlight poured into my face. I turned to find that I had stopped on the bridge in the middle of the park. It was small, an arch that hung over the split that ran down the park, separated by the trail of water that poured out into the lake.
On the water, the sun was gold. It spilled over the surface like it were orange juice but broke apart into warm–toned crystals across the ripples. I watched as it sparkled, gliding across the waters without getting dragged down. I wish that I could exist like that, something that couldn't be captured, something that would never sink.
I rose my eyes to the sky.
And felt trapped.
I thought that was what I had being; something that watched over everyone. Something that could give them light, something that provided them with warmth and understanding. Something that protected them. But I had become the opposite: a burden. A weight. Someone who stepped over everyone to hold themselves higher.
'It's not like there's two of you—she is you.'
No. She wasn't.
Blue Jay was a mask. She was a costume. She didn't have the history that Helga did—she didn't have any history. She was a blank slate so when I became her, I could become anything. I could become my fantasies; I could become my nightmares. I used her as an escape and normally, I liked it. She let me walk amongst the righteous where I could see what it was like. Where you didn't have to try, you were just good and everyone loved you for it. But Rhonda was right; I was using her, using them. It was getting out of hand. Blue Jay was an avatar that I had mistaken for my home. I had convinced myself that I was like her. That I was her.
'It makes you feel important—justified.'
But I was wrong.
I had always worried that one day, I would bend the truth too much that it would snap and everything would crash and shatter. But maybe it already had, and I had been tricking myself into believing that everything was alright. I had simply ignored the shards and continued dancing.
'You like to feel above everyone.'
Her words snapped hard and sharp in my throat until I was choking. The ache burned. The hurt swelled until it took up the space and there wasn't room for anything else. I moved my eyes down to my hands. My knuckles, they felt like they were on fire. The truth was painful and my soul had become tired from carrying its weight.
'You were weak, but certainly amusing.'
Who was I to keep fighting my reality?
'You only care about yourself.'
I was still a bully.
'She's always been a delinquent.'
I always would be.
'It chose wrong.'
I shut my eyes. There would always be something that I was doing wrong.
"Helga?"
The voice came from nowhere.
I jumped and spun around, expecting to see—
"Oh."
I didn't mean to sound disappointed. I hadn't even realised that my tone had dipped until I watched as his expression dropped.
I shook my face to clear myself from the haziness.
"Hey, football head," I added, attempting to make my voice sound lighter. I don't know if I succeeded. I wasn't even sure how much that I cared. I was too worn, too exhausted. "What're you doing here?"
I asked, but I was already sliding my eyes away. I leaned my side against the railing and raised my gaze to the sky. Like I was asking it for help, like I was begging it for mercy. Cut me loose from these chains; let me fly, let me float, make me into something else. I shut my eyes and tilted back my face so that I could feel the sun filling my pores. If it couldn't do that, then I would have to remain free somewhere in my mind.
"It was a nice day," Arnold answered simply. I could hear him walking up the bridge and resting his bike against the pickets. There was a pause before he added, "And you?"
"Ice cream," I answered without opening my eyes. But I waved the cone as if to cite my evidence.
He fell silent.
It was an uncomfortable silence, the sort that you'd get after you told your parents that you failed your history test, where you waited in fear for them to share their thoughts and decide your punishment.
Well, I imagined, I never told them when I failed.
Still, I sighed. "I can feel you watching me."
"Sorry, I—" he took a few chances forward before stopping. "I just—are you alright?"
I snorted, opening my eyes and turning my gaze until I was looking at him. He had stuffed his hands into his pockets and his weight slightly rocked in his feet. I expected to find his gaze pressing, maybe even demanding as he looked me over in his hunt for something. I told myself that I didn't care. I had been picked apart already, what was one more person?
But his eyes, they were soft. Light. He looked away when I caught him looking.
It confused me.
"Do I look that bad?"
Bad question. It's not like I was ever really approachable around him. Or anyone, for that matter.
"Yes, I—wait, no! No, it—you just look . . . down?" He scratched the back of his head. "Sorry. You don't look bad."
His eyes touched mine again before he looked away. Hair brushed against his brows. His fingers dipped until they were against the back of his neck. I tilted my face. I knew that I wasn't in the greatest of moods, but I didn't think I was that bad.
'You're a bully, Helga.'
Oh.
Right.
I decided to ease up on him.
"Had a fight with my friends," I shrugged. Made sure my voice was low so that it wouldn't give anything away.
"Oh," that took him by surprise. I couldn't be sure if it was because of what I admitted, or the fact that I admitted it at all. He eased, though. He moved until he stood beside me, placing his hands against the railings. "I'm sorry. What happened?" I rose a brow and he blushed, so he quickly added, "Um, if that's not an uncomfortable question, that is."
I didn't know why but seeing him like this—unsure—it amused me. It eased me. The pain was still thick and churning in my chest. But something had shifted. My skin was still on fire, but he was sweet like rain.
"Stupid girl shit," I slowly admitted.
". . . Oh."
That made me pause because I expected to hear more from him. But glancing at his face, I realised that he thought that I was uncomfortable.
Something in me softened.
"It wasn't a big deal, it just—" I sighed then turned around, folding my arms over the rails. "I did some . . . dumb shit. Stupid shit. It upset them and they, erm, yelled at me."
He frowned. "They did?"
"Yeah, but it wasn't a big deal or anything," I added, wanting to defend them. I knew how it sounded without the context. "I was an asshole. But . . ."
"But?"
I licked my lips.
"Well, when they yelled, I yelled back, and . . . it all kinda clicked. Everything that they were saying, it . . . it hurt, but it felt right. Erm, not right—correct. The punches they were pulling, they hurt so much because they weren't off the mark. They were right. And then it hit me that I wasn't doing anything but making it worse—hurting people. I really care about. So—" I blinked, finding that my gaze now burned. The weight had come back and now, it was slipping back up my throat. I blinked then swallowed to force back those tears. "So, I left. Got some ice cream, took a walk and . . . ran into you."
I turned to shoot him a smile, but I didn't actually look at him. I knew that I couldn't. Because if I did, he would look at me like he understood, and then I would crumble and break. I needed to keep everything together—keep myself together. I wasn't a tapestry that would be torn apart from the seams. I needed to be tough. I needed to collect myself so I could continue to better myself.
I knew it was stupid, you couldn't teach an old dog new tricks. But it was all I had—the promise that I could get better.
Even if it was just a fantasy.
"And here I am," I finished lamely and held up my hand like I had performed a magic trick.
He didn't speak at first.
He had settled for the first time today. He no longer was turning silent because he was becoming flustered in his discomfort. He had turned silent because he was watching me, looking at me as if he were reading my thoughts. Searching my soul. It made me squirm. Because I knew that if he looked hard enough, he would find the truth. Any truth that he wanted. And I couldn't do anything to protect it.
I lowered my eyes.
"These friends," he eventually said. His voice was gentle, low. And his eyes carried a careful incandescence, like he was offering me a candlelight. "Were they Lila and Phoebe?"
"Yeah. Phoebe, Lila and Rhonda."
He nodded. "What was it that they said you did?"
I noted how he phrased that, they said. Like he didn't want to hand them his belief, not yet at least. Arnold wasn't the type to take your side if he disagreed with you, regardless of whether he liked you. But he also wasn't the type to get caught up in someone else's biases. He wanted to form his own opinion rather than have it formed for him.
It was something small, something simple and yet so him, that I could feel the aches in my chest cracking. Like they had hardened with time, but his voice was lessening their strength.
I smiled, wanting to say something. But I knew that I couldn't. I couldn't tell him accurately while keeping out Guardian business.
So, I simply took a bite of my ice cream.
He got the message.
"Okay, fair," he nodded. "But, um, for what it's worth—I don't think you should've been yelled at."
That surprised me.
"You don't?"
"No."
"But you don't even know what I did."
He shrugged like it were insignificant.
"Doesn't matter—it sucks to be ganged up on, especially when it's your friends," he said and began drawing patterns into the wood beneath his fingers. But his eyes never moved away from mine. "I'm sure that whatever it was that you did, it didn't deserve that severe a reaction. Not to the point that you would have to walk out."
I turned my gaze away from his.
He was so kind, so helpful. And sometimes, that hurt more. I didn't deserve his kindness, his optimism. He believed that I had left to protect myself from them. But I had really left to protect them from me. I could hurt people; I was on my way to hurting people. They stopped me. I needed them to be good, because I wasn't. I was coarse, I was rough. I had forgotten that; I was always building my identity on top of others. I didn't know how to exist without taking from someone else. There were still cracks in my canvas. I needed to continue bettering myself. I needed to continue containing myself.
I didn't deserve his trust.
"Thanks, football head."
But I could tell from the way that he looked at me, he knew that I didn't believe him.
I expected him to say something. Hell, he looked like he was going to say something. But then he closed his mouth and turned his face to the horizon.
I was grateful when he did.
Sunshine moved across his face. Tangled in his hair until it was a honey blonde. Rolled across the freckles beneath his eyes and across his nose. Turned his eyes into stars. They were a gentle cadence, a crushing of summer until you found spring. The light accentuated his jawline, and I found myself smiling.
The silence grew between us and as it did, I finished my ice cream.
But it wasn't awkward. It was comforting. Neither of us needed to say anything; neither expected to say anything. I couldn't tell him what had happened without revealing too much, so I didn't. Arnold could never understand the gravity of the situation, so he wouldn't. And he accepted it. He didn't demand, he didn't pressure. He had simply accepted.
The air between us softened until it had become dewy. Without the pressure, I didn't have to conform myself or justify myself. He accepted it, me. He stood close enough that I could feel his body heat down my arm. Faintly smell his body wash. And that was enough. A silent, "I'm here." It was what I needed, what I wanted. He wasn't going anywhere. He would stay by my side.
The sun sent us a warm breeze that lifted my hair from my shoulders. I could feel the burdens lightening. I closed my eyes and imagined the fire that had scorched my chest, it was cooling. The pressure that had twisted itself into a weight, clogging my airways until my breath had become thick and black, it was washed away by the water. The burning in my throat became fluid like rain. I could breathe without tasting smoke.
I smiled.
The silence between us was cooling, a honeyed rain. It made everything whirl and then evaporate into soft waves. It made me braver, I wanted to talk to him, touch him.
But when I looked at him, he was already watching me.
I grew self–conscious. "What?"
He was leaning forward on the railing, like he had been trying to get a better view of the water. But his shoulders were twisted away from its direction. His eyes gleamed in appreciation, like he had been admiring something. Something that made him so happy that it fed his soul. He didn't even seem to mind having been caught. If anything, he seemed relieved. The creases in his face relaxed. The breath that moved through his mouth, it sounded like a small, astonishing laugh.
He ducked his face, but not with sheepishness. His smile widened into a grin.
"We've been here before," he said as if that answered everything. He could feel my confusion and looked back at me. "Years ago. You were upset about your mum and then I ran into you—in this exact spot. You were even eating the same ice cream."
I glanced down at the napkin, the only thing remaining from my snack, and chuckled.
"Oh, yeah, I remember," I felt myself smile. "I had such a stomach–ache from eating it too quickly."
He laughed.
"I ended up heading to Gerald's and lost track of time," he traced circles into the railing again, smiling fondly. "I got back so late that Grandpa took away my bike privileges for the rest of the weekend."
I rose an eyebrow. "Only the weekend?"
"Yeah. He's too much of a softie to even consider the full week."
The air softened as we laughed. I didn't know what made it so funny or even if there was anything that was funny. I just knew that there was a rosy feeling in my chest—fondness, I realised. It was like someone had wrapped a blanket around me and had pulled me into their chest to rub circles into my back.
It was a gentleness that made me feel safe.
That thought surprised me.
When I was Blue Jay, the world was grey.
There was so much importance stuffed into every second that it made everything heavy and turned it into a burden. When you were a Guardian, every second counted. You slack off for a moment, that could cost someone their life, their safety. Being a Guardian meant that you were everyone's safety. You were all that they had. You were the thing that stood between them and their hurt. That's why there wasn't any room for mistakes. You were the lifeline. And that pressure, it made everything sting. The air crumbled until it smelled like fire and dust and hurled itself down your throat like it wanted to kill you.
But Arnold, he was relief. He brought with him an ease, a gentleness. It made everything soft again, washed everything away until what was left was something simple. It was a simplicity that I missed, a simplicity that I craved. One moment flowed into another and there was nothing else to it. When I was with him, it opened a door that led me away from my burdens and back into my normal life. He made me feel like I was just Helga because that was how he looked at me.
A mistake was just that—a mistake. Everything would continue moving and anything that was lost, it would regrow.
"Sometimes, I wish we could go back," I admitted. I knew that I should stop but I didn't want to.
He looked at me. "Really?"
"Yeah," I returned his gaze, feeling warm. "Don't you?"
"I mean, I guess—sometimes?" he glanced at his hands. "I mean, yeah, everything was simpler back then, we were all so innocent. Looking back on it, all our problems, they were pebbles that we insisted on making mountains out of."
I lifted a brow. "But?"
"I like my life now," he said with a shrug. He raised his eyes, so he was watching the horizon. The heat swept his hair back so they gently kissed his brows. "I mean, yeah, obviously, things have gotten, er, much more complicated and there's always some type of drama, but . . . I dunno, I'm still surrounded by the people that I love. I have my family, I have my friends, more of my life figured out, why would I want to go back? Yes, everything was more simple back then, but maybe I like that everything's more complicated now. It means that we're finally living our lives; it means that we're growing up."
I stared at him, not knowing what to say.
He was right. I shouldn't go back, things were moving as they were supposed to. But I couldn't help it, hearing him say it—what I had always known about him—I felt resentment.
It was sharp and churning and destructive. I looked to my hands. I knew I was being an asshole, but I couldn't help it.
"Easy for you to say."
He glanced at me in surprise. "What?"
"Well, no offense, Arnold, but your life, it's always been pretty great," I blurted out before I could stop myself. But then I panicked because I knew that I was being an ass and he was staring at me in a way where I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Erm, I mean, from what I've seen. Like you said, you're surrounded by those that you love—family, friends . . . some of us didn't really have that. We didn't have people looking out for us, so we had to learn how to power on and become our own protector. Some of us didn't even know that that wasn't normal until we looked up and saw it for ourselves . . . a kind, warm life, that wasn't something we could experience. We could only observe it from a distance."
I knew that I was walking a dangerous line. It was an open secret that Bob wasn't winning any father of the year awards. And Miriam wasn't much better. But it wasn't something I went around admitting, not even to Lila. It was a door that I wanted to remain shut.
But as Arnold stared at me, I worried that I had just opened it. He made me feel exposed. He watched me like my skin was translucent and he could peer into my mind if the light hit me correctly. He probably could, for all that I knew.
I regretted saying anything. I didn't want to talk about my home life. I usually didn't. But Arnold had such a kindness to his face, it always tricked me into speaking further when I should have kept my mouth shut.
"You always had friends, Helga."
I paused, realising that I had been gripping onto the railings so tight that my veins were poking through my skin. I eased my grip then turned to him.
"What?"
"You always had friends," he repeated it with such ease, it was like he just told me that gravity exists, or that fish swim. "You . . . I know we weren't always the closest. I know that we spent a lot of time fighting, but . . . Helga, you've always had friends. You had us, your classmates."
I turned away. "Yeah. And look how that turned out."
He looked at me.
Then, said something that I knew that he'd wanted to say for a long time.
"What happened to you, Helga? It feels like you just—like, one day you just up and left and never looked back. You never talked to us again."
He wasn't talking about Blue Jay—not even unintentionally. He was referring to the time that was before her. The time that I still kept locked beneath fifty feet of glass so that it remained inaccessible.
I shut my eyes because remembering that time pained me. I didn't like going back there. I liked to pretend that I had always been like this. That I had always kept myself contained. That I had made good choices. That I didn't hurt people. That I had something.
But I didn't. I wasn't.
And suddenly, I was angry.
"Whoa, Helga!" his hand wrapped around my wrist. He spun me around before I could continue walking away and his eyes filled my vision. "Where are you—"
"Going!" I burst. It made him blink, not expecting the volume. I flushed and stepped backwards, wiping my mouth like I could wipe away my words. "I mean, I—I don't want to . . ."
He watched between my eyes and the space between his brows creased. I expected him to get frustrated and let me go—finally, let me go. That's what I wanted. It's what I was best at: pissing people off so they would leave me. But his grip on my wrist only tightened; it didn't hurt. It was warm, somehow comforting.
"We don't have to talk about it," he offered and when I looked back at him, he pressed his lips together. Stepped closer. I could feel his breath tickling my forehead. "Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"No," I shook my face. "It was my fault. I didn't mean to . . . I don't want to . . ."
I trailed off, unsure what it was that I was even trying to say. He could sense it. He looked into my eyes like they contained messages, and then he began trailing his thumb against my wrist. Tracing patterns. It turned the crushing ache in my chest into a flutter. I froze and then glanced at it, thinking that doing so would break the spell, because he mustn't have realised what he was doing. He was repeating his actions against the railing, absentmindedly drawing patterns as he thought of something different, something greater.
He hadn't realised what he was doing, I decided. He had gotten so wrapped up in trying to comfort someone, that he had forgotten that it was me, and something like that would never happen.
But he never did—move away.
Instead, he got closer.
He wasn't letting go.
There hadn't been much distance between us to begin with, but what he was doing decidedly closed what little there had been left. Suddenly, I could feel his hair. It was on my forehead, brushing between my brows. I didn't look at him though, I couldn't. I stared at his hand, instead. I knew that he was trying to capture my eyes with his own. But I couldn't, I wasn't brave enough. I knew that if I did, something would happen that I couldn't control.
"We won't talk about it," he promised and moved his other hand so that it wrapped around my other shoulder. It sent an electric current from his hand into my heart. There was nothing seductive about what he said, but his words, his tone, they sent a kick of something into my chest. I swallowed, unsure of what to do. "Just . . . can I give you some advice?"
I scoffed before I could stop myself. It was the most Arnold thing he could do.
"I have a feeling that you'll give it to me, regardless of my answer."
I could feel his smile. It was warm and comforting. I clamped my lips into a line to keep myself from smiling in return.
"Life is always going to be complicated. It's always going to have its challenges, its struggles, its mountains to climb," he paused before continuing. "Don't quit."
I raised my eyes to his neck and watched as his Adam's apple bobbed.
"There will always be days when nothing goes right. There will always be days when you fall, when all you wanna do is cry. Or sleep a lot," his fingers pressed a little deeper into my wrist, like he was thinking of something painful. But when I looked at them, they eased their grip. "But it'll be alright. It will always be alright as long as you can pick yourself up . . . or accept the hand that's trying to help you. You shouldn't ever give up, Helga, because if you do, then what's next? You'll be stuck in a pit where you're never moving forward and those days where nothing goes right, they'll turn into months, years—a lifetime."
"Thanks."
He chuckled and it fanned across my face. I tried holding myself from leaning in further.
"You can't sit around, envying other people's worlds, Helga," he said. "You have to go out there and change your own."
"You think that I'm strong enough to do that?"
He pulled back, pressing me with a stare.
"Helga," his tone dipped in surprise. "You're the strongest person that I know."
His words crashed and turned my world onto its side. Air became water, rushing around us, and washed me cold. And yet, my chest stayed flushed. I was looking at him before I could stop myself.
And I knew that once I did, that I was lost.
His eyes, they had always been virescent, emeralds so striking that they were a slap to the face. But now, they were calm. He was calm. He looked at me and smiled with such care that my chest melted into morning light. His gaze was careful and latched onto mine. And I no longer knew what to do. There was something in his gaze that was different. It was something that I knew I would never find in someone else, as if in that moment, our souls had formed into a bridge.
"Why are you like this?" I heard myself whisper but my voice felt a million miles away. "Why are you being so kind to me? I never gave you a reason to be."
Why had he always been so kind to me?
He didn't answer right away.
He looked between my eyes and smiled, as if I told him something amusing.
"We used to be friends. I want to be friends again—officially, this time," he said, but his hand was sliding from my shoulder until he had my arm in his grip as if he wanted to pull me closer. Sheepishness twisted in my stomach because I could remember when I had accidentally held onto his bicep. When had we swapped spots? He didn't seem to recognise what he was doing. "I want to make up for the time that we lost together. It . . . if that's okay with you, of course . . ."
He trailed off, suddenly seeming less sure of himself. He was giving me the option, I realised. He was so close, but he wasn't pressuring me. He wanted me to decide because he had already decided a long time ago.
I felt my lips part.
His eyes followed that action.
It was like my voice had become heavier. I didn't know why but it was making me emotional. That he was giving me the option. That there would be no hard feelings if I didn't want to become friends. He wouldn't hold it against me. Something about having an option but being allowed to come to my own conclusion, it softened me. I could feel warmth moving in my body and turning my vision into a liquid.
I opened my mouth when I suddenly felt a buzzing in my back pocket.
I jumped, heart staggering in my throat. Arnold's gaze was lost as I scrambled for my phone. My hands were shaking. The realisation made me flush.
Arnold stepped away but his eyes stayed on my face.
I swallowed and looked at the screen.
Then, rolled my eyes, feeling myself come back down to earth a little, when I read her name.
"Is it Lila?" Arnold asked softly.
I nodded.
"You should message her," he smiled, moving backwards until he had his elbow on the railing. "She's your friend, Helga."
I ignored the thrill that went down my spine. Hearing his voice wrap around my name like that wasn't doing my focus any favours.
Meet on top of buildings at Kiska park.
I opened the text.
Be there or square ;p
Sighing, I felt the warmth that had been dancing in my chest, roll its way down to my stomach like a weight. But still, I was relieved that Lila didn't sound like she was angry with me.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket, stepping backwards, and awkwardly cleared my throat.
"I'm sorry, I—"
"It's okay," he interrupted.
I glanced at him and was surprised with how flushed he had gotten. He had gone back to rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at his feet. It's like his actions had finally caught up with him. The realisation made my cheeks burn.
But sunlight moved from behind him, rolling up his neck to fan out and melt through his strands. It turned him into an Adonis; a beauty that rolled out in waves. It had me smiling. Sensing my silence—or maybe, feeling my gaze—he lifted his eyes until they met mine. It sent a pang of something through my chest, something pointed like an arrow. I wanted to say something to perhaps lighten the tension. But the words had gotten stuck in my throat.
He forced a grin, cheeks glowing. "I'm glad you guys are okay. You should meet up with her, wherever it is that you guys are going."
I also forced a smile.
Truthfully, I didn't want to go. I normally didn't hesitate to run back to Lila—any of the girls. But there was something different about Arnold today, something that pulled me closer to him. The feeling crept beneath my skin and sent a chilling realisation.
I was coarse, I was rough and on my own, my edges were sharp enough to tear apart the whole room. But with him, those same edges could soften until they had moulded themselves to fit perfectly against his own.
I wanted to stay with him. He made me feel safe. He made me enjoy being Helga. And if he asked, I would have stayed.
But he didn't.
"Um, thanks, I—I really appreciate you—this, I mean," I could feel my cheeks getting even hotter. I stepped backwards and as I did, light shuffled across my face. It made him pause and mentally, I cursed the beautiful weather. There was no way I could hide how hard I was blushing now. I began laughing, hoping to diffuse the sudden awkwardness. My awkwardness. "I don't know how everything would've unfolded had you not—"
"Helga?"
"Yeah?"
"Go."
He was laughing as he said it. Like he couldn't have believed it. I also laughed because really, sometimes I couldn't believe me either.
"Okay, I'm going," I told him.
I scrunched the napkin in my hand, suddenly remembering that I was even holding it. I awkwardly moved my hands down my waist, tugging on my back pockets to pull my jeans higher. And then, I began swinging the weight in my feet. Yeah, I'm sure I looked like the pinnacle of coolness right now. But I wasn't doing this on accident, this hesitation was on purpose (that explanation somehow felt lamer). I was deliberating between leaving or reaching out and . . .
Okay, honestly, I had no idea what I was thinking of doing. But whatever it was, I decided against it. I instead settled for an awkward salute—who was I?—then swung around to walk down the bridge.
I could hear Arnold's laughter as that all unfolded. And I tried to delete that knowledge from my brain, because I really didn't want this moment coming back to haunt me in my dreams tonight.
"Oh, and Helga—"
"Yeah?"
Oh, God, Pataki. Desperate much?
I had swung around so fast that I almost fell over. I was already off the bridge and back in the gravel when he had called my name. Unfortunately, there still wasn't enough distance to hide the massive blush on my face.
Arnold paused, looking surprised. He didn't say anything for a while and I tried telling myself that it wasn't because I was being a massive loser right now.
But then he smirked, his confidence growing, and said—
"You look really cute today."
. . .
I stared at him. I mean, really stared at him. Because I hadn't been expecting that. Honestly, I was expecting him to have called my name then immediately have started laughing because I was such a dingus. This on the other hand . . .
What was I supposed to say to this?
Maybe, I had misheard him. Yeah, that must've been what had happened. I didn't even look different than any other day. Sure, I had managed to find this V neck from the back of my closet (one that Olga had handed down to me years ago that I'd forgotten about) and sure, my jeans were tighter compared to the usual—
Actually, I had let my hair down.
It was Lila's fault.
We were supposed to be up early so we could get to training. Nothing else was planned for the day. She had volunteered to do something simple and given how tired I was, I told her to go nuts.
So, she had brushed it out then pinned back two sections on either side of my head, sliding the pins in a criss-crossed shape. The result had left some tendrils down the sides of my face, falling in loose waves from the braid that I'd slept in. All in all, it was a simple but nice look. I had completely forgotten about it until now.
Now as in, where I was standing there like a complete and utter dork, looking at Arnold and expecting for him to take it back. To point at my face and be like, "Ew, you freak! I would never say that!"
But instead, he just continued to smile, cheeks slightly flushed.
Having said that.
I was embarrassed to admit that I had no idea how to respond to that. I almost hoped that my imagination would be right because that I could handle. This, though, it made my brain completely stop and malfunction and then ka–boom. What was I supposed to say?
Where was Rhonda when you needed her?
She would've said something really cool. That's what she would be doing. And that's what I would as well. Quick, I had to think of something cool—
"Thanks!" I heard myself say. "You too!"
His cheeks turned an even darker shade—of course, he still looked beautiful while it happened—but he grinned, and I felt victorious. I could hear the applause roaring as I turned and walked away. I imagined myself holding my arms up as I bowed to their congratulations. The roses being thrown at me, the speech I was giving. Yes, that had been cool. That had been so cool because I was so cool. And I was just a simple girl, chasing after her dreams. It didn't hit me until I was walking down the streets that that had not been cool. That had been flirting.
And then, that sent me spiralling. Because if what I had said had been flirting, then that meant . . .
Oh my gosh—
Had Arnold been flirting with me?
The sun was setting when Lila found me.
I didn't notice when she did. I had my eyes on the sun and watched as it sank down the sky. Its orange rays were clawing out from the horizon, like it was trying to fight against the inevitable. They stretched and washed everything in a cardinal haze. It climbed higher and higher until they stretched past me. I shut my eyes as if I could inhale them.
The colours painted me like a hearth. But a coolness had settled beneath my skin. Like Arnold's hands were still on me, taming the flames. His concern had hit me like a liquor and dulled my senses until distress had turned into calm. Pain into relief. Hurt into hope. My heart was still racing.
Lila cleared her throat and when I turned over my shoulder, she was already grinning.
She had come as Lila, not Lark. She must have transformed to get here, like I had, but had traded that face for her own. She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail and in her hand, she held a plastic bag.
She dug into it and pulled out a can which she wordlessly threw my way.
I caught it without having to look away from her.
She smirked.
I glanced at the label.
Dr. Pepper—diet.
I scoffed, amused.
Lila moved so she sat beside me. She copied my position, hanging her feet off from the ledge, but placed the bag behind us. The only sound between us became the hissing as we pierced our cans and then sipped the tops from our drinks. The wind whistled and swirled beneath our ankles. Cars were moving, honking down below us. I bit back a smile, the instinctive fear from being up so high, it crawled up my throat. Strangely though, it elated me. The distance between our feet and the ground, it was more then bone shattering. It would be fatal. But my time as Blue Jay had taught me to live outside the normal. To live outside what was safe. If anyone looked up, they would see two foolish teenagers, sitting at the top of the Kiska building. No one would ever suspect that those teenagers were what kept them safe at night.
I turned my eyes to the birds that soared, the day still burning bright behind them. I could feel my heart moving with them.
I cleared my throat. "Not as good as the original."
Lila smacked her lips and examined the can. "Less sugar."
"So they say."
I gave her a look and then, we both laughed.
It was a comfortable sound that eased the tension that had been growing between us. I thought that maybe things might get better and we could move past this morning. But then, my stomach dropped because I knew there wasn't a way to erase what had been said.
Lila leaned back onto her palms.
Her lips twisted, eyebrows furrowing slightly. She was going to break the silence. She knew what she wanted to say, she just needed to work herself up to saying it.
"So, we're throwing a sleepover."
I turned to her. "Excuse me?"
She sighed, having expected that reaction, and leaned forward.
"I thought you had a solution to all of this, Lila," I continued, frowning. "Not a—a—whatever this is."
"It is a solution."
"It's stupid."
"Thank you, Helga, I'll be sure to let Rhonda know."
I sighed and glared at my can.
"Of course it was her plan," I murmured then took another drink.
Lila rolled her eyes with a soft laugh.
"Look, the tension in the group is getting ridiculous—it's distracting. Even you should be able to see that," she looked to the clouds, expression shifting into something I couldn't read. "And I just think that a good ol' fashioned sleepover could . . . take some of the edge outta things."
"What, so we have to pretend that everything's fine?" I demanded. "Like, we're normal."
"Yes," she turned to me, eyes blazing. "For a few hours, I'd like to pretend that none of, well, this exists. Just relax—watch movies, eat shitty foods and—fuck, laugh for christ's sake!"
"And what does Nel have to say about this?"
"Oh, she jumped and cheered," Lila shrugged, rolling her eyes. "She was absolutely thrilled at the idea of babysitting teenagers."
"She's coming?"
"Helga, you and I both know that that cat could use a night off," she said. I had to admit that she had a point. "She wasn't thrilled at the idea, but she wasn't against it. Things have been getting too tense—Helga, you have been getting too tense."
"Thanks."
"It's true."
"Look, you were the ones ganging up on me with ridiculous accusations—"
"Are they ridiculous?" she asked. "They were harsh, but they didn't seem too off base."
Right, well, that settled it then—Lila didn't regret what she had said. I had hoped, prayed, that as the day had come to pass and everyone calmed down, that she would take it back. That they all would. But she didn't. And it was safe to assume that the girls also stood firm in their resolutions.
"You're not me though," I told her, voice low. "You can only see. You're not in my head."
"I don't have to be," she snapped and this time, she appeared genuinely angry. "And it's as you said, I can only see. And I see a lot. I've always been good at that and you know it. But to be honest, it doesn't even matter whether I'm good because you're not among our generation's greatest liars."
I stared at her, her words hurting like missiles. I wanted to speak and fight back, claim that she was wrong, but something had lodged into my throat. I couldn't speak because I had nothing to fight back with.
I lowered my gaze and tried pressing back against the burning in my eyes.
I heard her sigh.
"Look," she put the can down and placed a hand on my shoulder. "You're a great Guardian already—amazing. I know that they were on your case about that, but I mean it—you can hold your own against Mutants and Serec, even without your powers. That's incredible. You're incredible, Helga."
"But?"
"You neglect your other side," she admitted with a sigh. "Helga. You. You won't address anything that that side of you carries, what it experiences. You pile everything onto Blue Jay because, as Rhonda said, you feel inferior as Helga. You prefer being Blue Jay because you can see your accomplishments. It challenges your feelings of inadequacy because when you're Helga, you don't believe that you're capable of accomplishing anything. Blue Jay is in direct conflict with that. Helga is your burden, but Blue Jay is your escape."
I didn't know what to say to that. I didn't say anything to that. Her words crashed into me and made everything burn. I felt exposed, naked. They had my stomach rolling until I could feel it pressing into my throat. I didn't look at her as I made my mind up on how I felt. She didn't show any signs of impatience.
But then, that burden shifted until it was fermenting in my chest. It frothed and foamed and became protective.
Anger, I decided, was how I felt.
"No."
She blinked. "No?"
"N–O. No," I glared then slapped away her hand. "You don't get to say that shit."
"Excuse me?"
"Lila, how you would feel if I just walked up to you and told you what I thought was wrong with you?" I demanded. "It's invasive. And it's unfair. You make me feel like I'm a project that isn't working out how you wanted me to. I know that I'm an easy target, but it's unfair that it keeps being me that everyone is taking shots at. I'm fine, Lila, and even if I wasn't, that isn't any of you—"
"I've seen you at your lowest!"
She screamed it.
And I fell silent.
She had slammed her hand down to her side and her shoulders had hunched. Her expression tightened, but her cheeks flushed. Not from embarrassment, it was frustration. They were from the words that she had been holding onto but now, she was choosing to release them.
"I've seen you when . . . you don't know how to handle those feelings," she admitted and glared down at her hands. "All of that despair and anger and confusion and—everything. You just feel so much. And when you feel that much, you don't know how to handle it, so you . . . turn it onto yourself."
She forced a small, shaky laugh.
She was crying, I realised. Her eyes had turned into hot gloss and she had folded her hands back into her lap. I acted without thinking and reached forward to rub her shoulder, as if I could console her.
"I still remember that afternoon, Helga."
Her voice had become low. She didn't say which afternoon, but I knew which one she was referring to. Her words twisted until I could feel something cracking in my chest. It had my stomach turning. I glanced down as I felt the shame colouring my face.
"And I . . . I couldn't—I can't get that image out of my head," she continued. "I just . . . I felt so powerless. I told you that I would be there for you, but I . . . I just froze. I couldn't get to you until it was too late. And when I did, I had no idea what to say."
She laughed but it wasn't without humour. It held resentment and I realised that her frustration wasn't even directed at me.
It was directed at herself.
"Lila . . . I—"
"That day scared the hell out of me, Helga," she blinked against her tears. "It scared me . . . more than any day that I've been Lark. More then any day that I've had to fight Mutants, Wraiths, Serec—that creepy guy with no name—" she forced a shaky laugh. "Seeing you like that, it . . . it petrified me. It made me realise that I have no idea what the hell I'm doing."
Her face scrunched again. It looked like she was trying to fight something from rising. I tried again, moving my hand until it was wrapped around hers. It brought her eyes back to mine. And slightly, her expression softened.
"I want to help you and I will continue to do my best, but that's the thing, Helga," she said, squeezing my hand. "I don't know how. I try and it feels like I'm always messing up. I said that I was your comrade, but I'm scared that one day, I'm going to get it so wrong that I'll never be able to take it back. I'm worried that I'll push you too far. I'm worried that one day, I'll say something that I think is the right thing but when I turn around, you'll be—"
She cut herself off and when she did, the dam broke.
Her skin folded into creases as the water poured from her eyes and down her face. I was stunned because I had never seen Lila like this. Where she looked so lost and confused and angry. Her tears washed away the notion that she was wise beyond her years. That she always knew what she was doing. I was suddenly looking at Lila and seeing her for what she was: a confused but well–meaning kid, who just wanted to make everything better for people. She caught them when they were at their worst and gave them light. And it made me suddenly protective because she was so young. She was so young but she was always there for everyone. But when were they ever there for her? I admired her but she was younger than me. And I looked up to her but ultimately, I was the one who should be looking out for her.
Her expression had contorted in pain when she released a sob that broke my heart. I moved so I could hug her but she kept a distance so she could continue to address me.
"I'm sorry how everything came out today, alright?" she rushed to explain. "I know that it hurt you, that we hurt you. But Helga, I may regret how it was said, but I don't regret saying it. I meant every word that I said and I still do. You tie so much meaning to Blue Jay while reserving your fear and doubt for Helga. You don't see that you're both the same. You keep Blue Jay and Helga separated as if you're different people. And you don't get it, Helga, but you're the same. Blue Jay isn't your hope and Helga isn't your pain. You are your hope and you are your pain. I know that you won't believe me, but Helga, we all think that you're amazing and it fucking kills me that you don't think that about yourself."
Her stare pressed hot into my own. I suddenly felt like I could hear everything and feel everything of hers. She was right, she meant it. She wasn't telling me this because she thought it was something that I wanted to hear. But because these were her own thoughts. I could feel tears working their way up my throat until they were burning in my eyes.
"But Rhonda—"
"Rhonda thinks that about you as well."
I frowned. "Then why would she—"
"She's just as confused as we all are," Lila interrupted. "Let me tell you something, Helga; no one knows what they're doing. It isn't just you who feels confused. We may pretend otherwise, but I promise you, we're all moving through the motions and learning as we go. That's why we're all good for each other, like Nel said. We can learn and help each other."
She sighed.
"That's why I want you to come to this thing," she continued. "We're focusing so much on being Guardians, that it's becoming difficult to be friends. We need to be there for one another, not because our lives depend on it, but because we care for each other. Things got out of hand today and I'm sorry that I let it get like that, but I really think that tonight could make a difference. For all of us."
My vision had turned to water. I cleared my throat, wiping my face with my spare hand, and forced myself to smile. I didn't feel like smiling but I did it for her sake.
"Just promise that you'll come," she gave my hand another squeeze. "If not for yourself, then for me."
I looked down at her hand. It had become a dent that printed itself into my skin. I then looked to the skies as if they held all the answers. My thoughts had also become water, I couldn't form a singular word. They had been washed away and left behind only my feelings.
I sighed and wiped my face, but it stayed wet.
"Okay," I whispered.
I was surprised that she somehow managed to hear it. But she beamed, releasing a breath, then wrapped her arms around me. I didn't fight her. I pressed my hands into her shoulders and could feel tears soaking her jacket.
Neither of us acknowledged it.
"But you're picking me up," I told her when I could get my voice through the tears.
I could hear her smirking. "I was going to do that anyway."
Despite myself, I smiled.
She then released me and leaned backwards onto her palms. Her face was still wet and her eyes were now pink. But her smile had become natural. The tension in her face had relaxed. She was looking closer to her usual self.
I tried to push myself into acting like my usual self as well.
"How am I supposed to even act though?" I asked her, now feeling a little self–conscious. "I haven't even been to a sleepover. Not in years."
"You've stayed at mine before."
"Well, yeah, but that was different—it was just you and—"
"Exactly. And it will be just us," she chuckled. "We're a team. Constantly at each other's necks but always protecting one another. It'll be fine."
I returned her smile because I believed her.
"But what even happens at . . . sleepovers anyway?"
She shrugged.
"Depends," she said. "For girls, it's mostly talking. Y'know, not listening to the movies we picked out, gossiping, talking about boys and—oh, politics."
I lifted a brow. "Politics?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "Increasingly."
I stared at her, unable to tell if she were joking, but then, I laughed because I honestly didn't care.
And she joined, laughing with me.
"I'll be fine," she eventually said when we had settled back into a comfortable silence. "It's just us—your team. Your friends."
I sighed and finished the rest of my drink.
"What's the worst that can happen?"
Rhonda answered on the third knock.
She was grinning when the door swung open. That annoying, gloating, 'well, well, well,' grin that she always wore when she—thought—had won an argument.
"You certainly took your time, meathead," she bobbed her eyebrows. Her hair was swept out of her face into a ponytail that swung between her shoulders as she tilted her face. "Even with the Guardian of speed, you've managed to be almost an hour late."
I really wanted to say something to that. Something that I knew would get me scolded. But Lila and Nel were right behind me, so I took the grown up route.
I looked to Lila so she could fix it all.
She merely shrugged.
"Sorry, my fault, Rhonda," she bowed her head slightly. Nel glanced between the two. "I was working on something and lost track of time. Helga had to pick me up."
"Eh, you're alright," Rhonda lifted her shoulder in a half–shrug. I bristled. She was alright but when it was me, it became a problem? "Come in, we were just getting the food out."
Her eyes went in my direction for a moment.
Something passed over her face, I wasn't sure what it was. But it made her lips tilt slightly before she turned around.
Lila and I watched as she walked down the hall, waving us over her shoulder.
Then, Lila shrugged and followed her.
I sighed, looking at Nel, and knew that we were thinking the same thing.
This was going to be a long night.
At that exact moment, Arnold was at his friends' house—Eugene. He hadn't intended on staying for very long, he had just stopped to drop off the novel that he had borrowed from him. It had ended up stretching longer than he intended and with his attention so thoroughly captured, he wouldn't realise until later, that his phone screen had brightened with a notification.
H. Pataki accepted your follow request.
So.
Arnold has, uh, developed some feelings.
If you follow me on tumblr, then you'll know that when I originally planned this, it was actually platonic. There was an implication of romantic feelings, but it was between the lines. But when I was writing this out last month, it became romantic on its own. So now its abundantly clear to the readers that Arnold has developed feelings for Helga at this point. But how Helga is going to process it, is the real question here.
But yes, so the next chapter is already finished and just waiting to be edited. But I won't be dropping until Chapter 31 has been finished. No promises with that one, as it's dialogue heavy but quite chunky. Until then, I wanna know your thoughts! And, I have a fun little question for you: who do you think the title is referring to, Helga or Arnold? Why?
Also be sure to follow me on tumblr! I've been more active on it lately. On top of answering questions, I also drop snippets from chapters before they're posted, reveal more about the themes and intent, and host poll's. This chapter was actually majority voted! Oh, and there's plenty of gorgeous, gorgeous artworks from talented artists! It'll be the same username!
Seeya on the other side!