This was another chapter that didn't take that long, however, the next one, I've been particularly fussy about. As explained on tumblr, I've had it planned since the beginning of this fanfiction, so I wanted to get it to a very specific standard before dropping this. I'm on the final draft for it though, so now, I can finally release this chapter!

Enjoy!

This was so not worth it, I decided as we walked down the hallway. This was not worth it and it would be the last time that I made any promises to Lila Sawyer.

The sounds of our shoes filled the room. Silence pressed into us like punches, and tension formed like they were bruises. This was exactly what I had been worried about, that too much had been said this morning and we couldn't just ignore it. We needed space rather than action. So that we could bury those words into the sand and ignore them, rather than have them acknowledged, or shining from the forefront of our minds. I would rather ignore everything that had happened. But shoving us all into a room mere hours after the fight, made it impossible to do that.

I peeked at Lila from the corner of my eye.

She had her lips pressed together and there was a slight wrinkling in her forehead. I was slightly surprised to see that she seemed to be feeling the tension as well. That it rendered her mute like it did the rest of us. She always seemed like she knew exactly what to say.

But no one said anything until we were in the kitchen.

I had been in Rhonda's kitchen exactly two times and both times had been in the same visit. So I wasn't familiar with it. But I was aware that it was a beige wonderland. Sharp, sleek and hard. Not a place where you could relax. It wanted you to make your food and then get out, without a word being said. Metal gleamed so bright beneath the light, it was like no one had ever used them. And the counters didn't even have a handprint on them. There was nothing welcoming about that place.

So, I expected for that blandness to greet me once again, but when we entered the room, I was surprised to find the small dots of colour. Several packets of chips and chocolates were thrown onto the counters. They covered the counters and gave the place a rare blotch of colour that contrasted against each other.

Nel broke the silence.

"Phoebe," she said, padding towards the girl.

She was sat on one of the stools at the counter. Her ankles were together and her toes pressed into the footrest. She had changed since this morning; she wore a shirt that was much too large and sweatpants. Her feet were bare though. Her hair was thrown back into a messy ponytail that left random strands hanging around her face.

It was the most casual I'd seen her in years.

"Oh, hello," she looked up from her phone with a smile. Light skimmed her chin from the screen like the shadows wanted to push across her face. She turned her phone off. "You're quite late."

"My fault," Lila gave a sheepish smile. She was the only one wearing shorts, which was surprising giving how cold it had become out there. Her hair was thrown back in a bun which revealed how high her cheekbones were. Her eyes gleamed like honey, and I felt a sting of consciousness. She was so beautiful without even trying. "But no worries, we are here now."

Nel leapt from the ground to the counter. She wrinkled her nose when she saw just how much space that the chip packets had taken and searched for a place where she could sit.

"Yes, I suppose that you're right," Phoebe relented then began to scratch Nel's chin when the cat had taken a spot across from her. The cat purred from the action.

Rhonda had crossed the space so she stood behind Phoebe, leaning a hand against the back of her stool.

"I'll chalk it up to being fashionably late," she said and palmed a few chips from the pack that Phoebe had been snacking on.

"Many thanks."

Phoebe's eyes then found mine.

"Hello, Helga."

Silence descended over the room. No one moved or spoke. Eyes swivelled between us with eagerness. And I knew what it was that they were waiting for, what they wanted to see: me being civil. Extending an olive branch and letting the past remain where it belonged. And honestly, that had been the plan. I had decided that as I had been walking back home. I would do the right thing and let things go. After all, I had made a promise to Phoebe that I would move past this, and we could go back to being friends again. I had even worked on an apology as I packed for the night.

Sorry for being a major asshole, I would begin. It wasn't your fault that you got scared and rejected it. Had the roles been reversed, I would have done the same thing. Hell, I've already been through this exact thing with Rhonda, you think I would've gotten over it by now—the fact that you got a choice while I didn't. It doesn't matter because you eventually came around. And as the leader, I should be giving you a lot more leeway. You coming back is all that matters. Now, we can work together and save the world. Wanna stay up late tonight so we can draw moustaches onto Rhonda's face when she falls asleep?

The apology moved up my chest like it were a marble. I could feel it pressing to the back of my teeth. But when I looked at Phoebe and saw that her lips had lifted into a small smile, that apology vanished without a trace. It disappeared and, in its place, burned an irritation that wanted to take the house down.

'You get off on always playing the hero and saving people because you like the feeling that it gives you.'

No one in this room thought I was capable of caring, so why should I pretend that I was?

"Where are the Dr. Pepper's?" I asked, turning to Rhonda. But she didn't answer. Instead, her surprise parted her lips and she stared like she hadn't been expecting it. Irritation curdled my chest; I was acting exactly as she believed me to be. "Fine, I'll find them myself." I decided them marched for the refrigerator.

Tiles stuck beneath my shoes and filled the room with awkward noises. It became the only sound as no one had anything else to say. Phoebe's expression rolled past in my descent. I pretended not to see it. Yanked the refrigerator door open then reached for the first drink that I spotted—luckily, it was a Dr. Pepper.

I pierced the can and then threw my head back to take a swig.

Tension made the air thick. But I didn't say anything, didn't even look at them. Because this was what happened, I wanted to tell them. You rip the band aid off too soon and I would hurl everything at you. I was a gaping wound and filled the world with my problems until they could hurt someone else.

'You care too much.'

No, I thought to myself. I didn't.

"So," Lila finally broke the silence when she cleared her throat. "What do you have on the agenda, Rhonda?"

"Hmm? Oh, um—" she shuffled then folded her arms. "I've already explained that we'll be snacking, watching dumb videos and ordering pizza, but there is something that I did keep a surprise."

I wasn't intrigued—it was Rhonda, after all—but I turned around anyway. She had her arms crossed, chin slightly raised like she was about to announce something good. Phoebe was looking up at her in wonder.

"Ooh, what is it?" Lila seemed intrigued as well.

I, on the other hand, made a face. "Oh, brother."

Something that Rhonda actually managed to keep a secret could not be good.

Rhonda stepped backwards and angled herself so she could look at all of us. I expected her to flash me a dirty look, but she just wiggled her eyebrows as a saucy smile spread across her face. She then moved across the kitchen to dig through the cupboards. There were some cluttering sounds and as she searched, Lila's eyes jumped to mine.

Silently, she mouthed, are you alright?

I shrugged and mouthed, I'm here.

She frowned.

"Ta dah!"

Rhonda turned around with her hands wrapped around the neck of a dark bottle. Her smile stretched so high that the skin beneath her eyes was crinkling. I expected to hear a ding! accompanied with a sparkle from her teeth. Because when she smiled like that, I felt like I was apart of a corny dental commercial.

Lila and Phoebe gasped when they registered what the bottle was and I followed them with a sigh.

"Oh, boy."

"Wine?!" Lila exclaimed like she had witnessed a murder.

"Yep," Rhonda nodded with another cheesy smile. "And according to the bottle, it is some fine wine!"

"Are you sure that it's wise to be drinking your age?" Nel asked and it surprised me because I had forgotten that she was technically an adult.

"Nel, we're saving the world at our age," Rhonda rolled her eyes, pulling the bottle to her chest, as she shut the door behind her with her foot. "I think one glass of a little wine is hardly a step out of line in comparison."

Okay, she had Nel there.

Although the chances of Rhonda stopping at only one glass were the same as the chances of Robot Santa Claus from Futurarma knocking on our door to deliver us puppies tonight.

"But if we drink, Rhonda," Lila stepped forward and tapped her lip. The bridge of her nose wrinkled in thought. "Then who can we count to drive us if, erm, you know what happens?"

"Yeah, genius, what then?" I placed the can down against the counter that I had leaned against. "You're our only driver."

"Why would I need to drive when we can literally fly there in, like, ten minutes?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, anything can happen."

"How about you getting that stick outta your ass?"

"Sure, right after you can stop sucking your own dick."

"Okay!" Lila appeared between us—I hadn't even realised that we had been moving towards each other until she separated us with her hands.

"Really, Helga," Nel scowled.

"Wha—she started it!" I twisted around Lila to make a wild gesture at Rhonda. But the brunette stared at me, wine smushed to her chest beneath her folded arms, as she raised an eyebrow.

She looked ready to say something when Lila suddenly yanked the bottle from her hold, examining the contents.

"This wouldn't happen to be the only bottle that we plan on having tonight, is it?"

I made a face that she couldn't see because she had already turned around. What the hell did she mean by that?

"Well, well, well," Rhonda smirked, her eyes meeting mine in a victorious glint. Bitch. She then clapped her hand onto the redhead's shoulder. "Didn't know the chief of police raised a little law breaker! No, it does not have to be. There's plenty in the living room and we even got a bar downstairs. This way, madam, we have a wiiiide range of the devil's juice that'll have you sloshed in no time."

That entire time, I stared at her because did this girl have to insist on being herself?

But Rhonda had already slung an arm around Lila's shoulders and before I could say anything, she was wheeling the pair of them out into the hallway. Presumably, to the living room. But that action left me alone with Phoebe. The distractions that had stuffed themselves between us had evacuated and now, the tension was undeniable. It was confounding and dizzying all at once, something you couldn't ignore.

I looked in her direction before I could stop myself and found that she was already standing from her seat.

"I—I'll just—" she gestured helplessly out the hallway before wheeling around. She took a few steps before stopping and spun around so she could pinch a chip packet. She then hurried out to follow the girls. Saliva rolled down my throat in heavy gulps as I watched her. Nel was pressing her stare into the side of my face but when I turned to her, she was already leaving.

I was alone.

And sighed.

As usual.

When I entered the living room, the girls were in various places.

Rhonda was crouched in front of the cabinet. It was fancy looking and stuffed with many bottles. It was placed slightly below the flat screen TV, which hung inches beneath the curve between the wall and roof. Both doors were swung wide open and Rhonda was waving her arms around as she explained each of the bottles that littered the shelves. Lila had her legs crossed as she nodded like she was in a class. Her gaze bounced from Rhonda's face to her hands, but there was a slight furrowing between her brows and I knew that she had no idea what Rhonda was even talking about.

I bit back a smile, remembering how often Rhonda had left her cheerleader friends also quite clueless–looking behind her. Rhonda apparently had that effect on people.

Phoebe, on the other hand, was on the floor. She was sat at the coffee table which hung inches from the carpet, a few feet away from the couch. Her head was bowed, hair covering her face, as she poured her attention into texting.

I shifted my hands into my pockets and moved to the couch. She didn't glance up, but her shoulders tensed. She knew that I was here but didn't acknowledge it.

I slouched against the couch arm, wanting to disappear. I'd tried telling Lila that this wouldn't work out. I wasn't a sleepover girl. I was a 'can I crash at yours? My arm is bleeding out and my guts are down to my legs, I kinda need someone to stitch me up for the night, so I don't die' type girl. There was a creak and when I looked, I met Phoebe's gaze. She squeaked and looked back down to her phone, pretending like she hadn't been looking.

And I pretended that I didn't ache from that.

I deserved this. I had created this.

Memories pressed into my mind before I could stop them. Softening everything until it became sweet. The space between us had become sharp and before that, it had been a void. But before even that, it had been soft. Comforting. It wasn't hot or electric. It was almost dull. But that's exactly what I liked about it, that it didn't change. That it stayed the same. It was a coziness, like coming home from a really hard day and smushing your face into pillows. Or changing back into your pyjamas after wearing clothes that were too tight. It was quiet, but cozy. A luxury that neither of us had received growing up. The world had surrounded us in shadows and so, we had become each other's lights and promised that we would remain that way.

'We'll be like fireworks.'

I used to be her safe space. She would go to me when things became too difficult and I would wrap around her like I were a blanket. I was her safe space and she was mine. Her face was in my mind like a locket around my neck. I remembered the times when I had been laying against the concrete, blood beneath my skin, and even as the world wanted to keep me down, I pushed myself up. Because I would think of her, and those sparks would shoot through my skin until I couldn't contain myself.

'We'll fly across the dark, brightening the night.'

And yet.

Apologies were apparently where I held my limits. The words were there, everything that I wanted to say to her. But they coiled in my throat. Dipping until it was like I was carrying an anchor. Guilt still laced my teeth together. Shame crept into my pockets. And the ocean that rolled over my face, muffled my cries and burned in my lungs.

Forgiveness required strength, but I had never been strong.

I shook my face then cast my eyes someplace—any other place—when they came across a book. It was on the coffee table, tilted like Rhonda had recently put it down. Collapse Feminism. I tilted my face and wondered how many books Rhonda had on the subject. Still, I couldn't resist reaching for it.

"You can borrow that if you want."

The voice was sudden and I jerked my eyes upwards. Rhonda was already watching me. She had paused her teachings and swung around to address me.

Her eyes flickered to my hands and I realised that she was referring to the book.

Lila raised her chin so she could read the title from where she sat.

"You—" I raised my eyebrows, unable to disguise my surprise. "—want me to borrow something? Of yours?"

I was expecting Rhonda to burst out laughing and point at me, 'No, are you kidding me?' she would say as tears peeked from her eyes. 'Why would I ever give anything of mine to you? I'm so spoiled, I don't even know the meaning of sharing! And besides, you're a shitty Guardian and couldn't lead us outta a plastic bag! I'm not trusting you with a book, of all things!'

You had to admit, it wasn't totally inaccurate coming from her royal highness.

But what she really said was: "Yeah—read it. I already have. I was just giving it another skim," she gave a shrug. "Besides, I'm never gonna hold another woman back from discovering the misfortune that is feminism."

". . . Thanks."

I turned to Lila in hopes that she would give me an explanation, but she was already nodding along with Rhonda.

"To be a feminist," she proclaimed, touching her chest and raising her eyes like she was reciting a Shakespearian verse, "is to become ill with self–awareness."

"Ill. Sick. Depressed," Rhonda nodded and lowered her gaze like she was at a funeral. She then paused. "Well, depressed, but still sexy."

And they say poetry was dead.

They exchanged a look and nodded like they carried with them the meanings of the universe, and for some reason, it made me laugh.

I didn't know whether they had been aiming to do that—make me laugh—but when they heard the sound, they grinned in appreciation.

It made me feel bad for slacking Rhonda off—

"Although, put it down!" she suddenly barked, expression tucking into a frown. "We're at a sleepover and there can be no reading at sleepovers!"

And there she went again—being herself.

I made a face but obeyed—bossy—and tucked the book away on the side table that was next to me. I was too exhausted to have another back and forth with her. Besides, I figured at some point, I could sneak away to give it a read.

"And Phoebe!" Rhonda then turned her accusing finger in Phoebe's direction. The girl jumped and I realised that she hadn't heard a word of what happened. "It's girls night! That means that there will be no texting members of the opposite sex!"

Oh, criminy. Could Rhonda Lloyd be anymore domineering? No wonder it bothered her that she wasn't leader.

But when her words caught up to me, I rose a brow. "She's over here, how do you even know if she's—"

"Gerald was just telling me that he wishes that we have a good night," Phoebe supplied as she slipped her phone back into her pocket.

It made my jaw drop. I hadn't even seen who she had been texting and I was practically sitting behind her where her phone was visible. How the hell did Rhonda know?

Lila apparently shared my curiosity.

"Whoa," she blinked a couple of times and turned to Rhonda. "How could you tell it was a guy she was texting?"

Of course, her curiosity had to come out as admiration. Which was going to do wonders for Rhonda's ego, I'm sure.

"I'm a psychic," Rhonda announced and puffed out her chest, like she was expecting her applause. But when she didn't get anything, she pulled a random bottle from the cabinet, checked the label and shrugged. "Eh, that'll do it."

She stood from the ground, picking up the earlier bottle, so now, she held both bottles in both her hands. She shut the door with her foot then brought them to the coffee table. She sat across from Phoebe and began setting out glasses that I hadn't even noticed until now. Lila's eyes found mine from across the room. I rose an eyebrow and she shook her face with a roll of her eyes, grinning.

It made me smile.

Lila took the space next to Rhonda just as she had raised her hands into the air.

"Ta dah!"

She waved her hands, proud of herself for accomplishing the remarkable feat of setting out four glasses and pouring them with the wine.

"Everyone take a swig!"

Lila and Phoebe exchanged looks. Phoebe's expression wrinkled slightly and she looked to be waiting for Lila to say something. But Lila abruptly pulled away—cutting off their telepathic conversation—and took a glass. Phoebe frowned, looking confused, before she mirrored her actions and took her own glass. Lila swirled the wine, eyes going anywhere but near Phoebe, while Phoebe studied the contents.

Rhonda made a face at their hesitance before glancing in my direction, where I hadn't moved from the couch.

"You're not having one, meathead?"

"No thanks," I shrugged and put my hands back into my pockets. "Didn't sign up for getting wasted tonight."

"You'd have to be ridiculously lightweight to get drunk from this amount of wine," Rhonda said and raised her glass as if to prove her point. "It's just to loosen up."

Yeah, which you need, Pataki.

"No thanks."

I expected for it to spark an argument.

But Rhonda turned to her glass without even a hint of disappointment.

"Eh," she shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat."

Everyone took a minute to down their drinks and when they did, the reactions were sporadic. Rhonda consumed it in seconds, smacking her lips and already looking like she wanted another.

But the other girls—

"What was that?!" Lila gagged, sticking out her tongue and clutching her throat like she had been burnt. Phoebe was licking the back of her hand to get the taste from her mouth. The sight made my mouth hitch into an amused smile.

"Just a little white wine," Rhonda shrugged. She put her glass down and looked between the girls and their hysterics. She sighed. "Drama queens."

Then, there was silence.

"Erm," Rhonda fidgeted. "So . . ."

And it suddenly hit me that we might not have anything to talk about.

I blinked, surprised at that.

I had been panicking over this decision that Lila had only just told me about. The entire walk home was spent with my teeth locked to stop my heart from jumping out. I kept hearing their words from this morning and imagined all the ways that I could fuck this up. How I could destroy everything with just the wrong set of words. It genuinely had never occurred to me that anyone here could be lost for words.

"What have you got planned for the evening?" Phoebe suddenly asked, swivelling around so she could face the brunette. She made one more grimace at the aftertaste of the wine before lowering her hand from her face. "The usual, I presume? Sleepovers are commonly depicted with makeovers, dancing and gorging on obscene amounts of sweets. I believe pillow fights are also commonplace."

Yeah, Phoebe was a bucket full of nerves. I rarely heard her use her computer talk nowadays unless she genuinely didn't know what to say.

"Shit, I dunno," Rhonda laughed, a hard contrast to Phoebe. Whereas, Phoebe was tense and fidgety, Rhonda seemed relaxed and leaned back onto her palms. "We just kinda do whatever, y'know?" she paused when she noticed Phoebe's stance and shot forward. "Wait, you have been to a sleepover before, right?"

"Well, I—yes, I, erm, I used to have Helga over." The words collected as a flush in her cheeks. "I just haven't slept over someone's house in a while."

Rhonda frowned then turned to Lila. "What about you then? Any sleepovers?"

"Well, yes, but not after I became a Guardian," Lila shrugged. "Now it's mostly Helga staying at my house . . . because of the Guardian thing."

"Yeah, which kinda takes the fun outta things," I added. "Can't really dedicate time to checking out guys' abs in corny romcoms when you're stitching each other's guts up in a bathroom."

"To be fair, we also haven't tried that yet," Lila grinned then poured more wine into her glass.

"I thought you didn't like the taste of that, Lila," Nel spoke up for the first time since we'd entered the room. She had segregated herself, sitting on the sill beneath the window that covered the wall to our left. Lights pressed against the glass, some whizzing past as they were attached to moving vehicles flashing to get home. She had turned her neck in our direction so she could aim her enquiry at Lila.

"Eh, it's growing on me."

Rhonda's eyes lit up. "Exactly!"

Phoebe tapped her chin. "Is that to become a regular thing for us then?"

"Hmm?" Lila rose her brows without meeting her eyes.

"Guardian sleepovers," Phoebe supplied with a small shrug. The pink in her cheeks had paled as her eyes moved across the room in thought. "There's four of us so there might be more questions, especially if we do it as often as you two sound like you had. Or should we perhaps split into pairs?"

"It's whatever, Pheebs," I said. Something jolted through me when I said that—Pheebs. It had slipped out as for a moment when I had begun existing outside of the hurt. I hadn't even realised that I'd begun smiling fondly at her until I dropped it. I cleared my throat and leaned back into the couch. "Lila and I just fixed each other up and then passed out. If numbers become a problem, we can just head back to our houses once it's all done and we're all good."

All good. I said it like I was talking about falling over and needing a bandaid, rather then pulling together skin that had been split from a monster's claws.

"Probably for the best," Lila agreed, watching as the wine swirled in her glass. "Although, I fear that it'll become progressively harder to keep up a pretence as to why we're always out. Perhaps we can come up with some type of cover."

"Cover?" I repeated.

Rhonda was already on her second glass.

"An alibi," Phoebe supplied, although she wasn't looking at me.

"We're not being accused of murder," Lila frowned at the word choice.

Phoebe forced a smile. "Be that as it may, we still will need a reason for ducking out at such odd hours in the night."

"Like a book club?" I inquired.

"Perhaps something less suspicious than that," Lila looked at me. "I know you like to read, Helga, but it isn't likely that all of us would randomly start a book club. Besides, someone might wanna join."

"Hmm. Any ideas then?"

"Well, I was thinking that we could—"

"No, no, no—no!" Rhonda suddenly blurted out. Her face had scrunched as she waved her hands around.

I raised an eyebrow. "You have thoughts, I presume?"

She shot me a look then addressed the group. "No Guardian talk! No Mutant talk! Nothing that can be categorised as abnormal!"

"You're saying that when we have a talking cat in the room," I gestured to Nel and even though I wasn't looking, I could feel her frown boring into me.

Rhonda stared at me, unimpressed.

"Okay, fine—other than the fact that yes, we do have a talking cat and yes, that is super not normal—no offense Nel—there shall be no other talking of anything that can be considered supernatural. No more mentioning of superheroes, aliens, priestesses, Count Frostula, or apocalypses. Thank you!"

Her hand was crawling across the table as she said that. She wrapped her fingers around the neck of the glass that she had earlier designated as mine. It was still full and when she had finished her spiel, she threw her head back to finish it.

"Does that include that one guy?" Lila asked.

Rhonda slammed the glass down to shoot her a glare. Lila shrugged, somewhat helpless in response, and began dabbing her sleeve against the small bits of wine that had splashed from the glass.

"What guy?" I asked, feeling like I was missing something.

And when they turned to both stare at me, I realised that yes, I was in fact missing something.

"You know, that guy," Lila said, as if that was going to make it clearer for me. When she didn't see any hint in my face of recognition, she sighed and continued. "The one who attacked us at the carnival and then left without giving his name."

"Oh! That guy," I nodded and shuddered. "Ugh, fuck that guy."

Everyone nodded.

"Truly," Lila nodded.

A moment passed.

"We should give him a name," Rhonda decided.

"A name?" Lila repeated and all three of us rose our eyebrows.

"Yeah. Something to call him, for the time being anyway," Rhonda shrugged. I bit back a comment; wow, imagine that: she knows the concept of a name. "It's kinda confusing to keep referring to him as 'that guy'."

"Okay, fair," Lila turned her face upwards so she was staring at the roof. She crinkled her nose in thought. "Hmm, what can we call him?"

"How about Wally?"

I had been inspecting my nails when Rhonda had suggested this. Hearing this, I paused and glanced up. "Wally?"

"Yeah."

"That's ugly."

"Yeah, just like him."

I made a sound. "He is not ugly."

Of course, I should have known not to say something like that when I was around Rhonda. Because when my words hit her, her eyes slammed into mine and I realised the mistake I had made. Figures. Comments like that were just begging Rhonda to place her nose someplace where it didn't belong.

"Ooh," she cupped a hand to her ear, feigning like she hadn't heard me. And her eyes did that annoying thing where they looked at me like she had caught me red–handed in something. "Say what?"

"What?" I suddenly became defensive when every eye turned in my direction. I shifted in my seat, wanting to sink into the fabric and melt away from this conversation. "He's not."

"Should I alert Arnold?"

God, his name was violence to my ears. I could feel myself flush, like his fingers were back on my skin. Gliding down my arms and wrapping around my wrists. His light rolled over and painted me a summer green. His jaw had been so sharp, his eyes dark and rested on mine. It pushed everything back until nothing else existed except for us.

The phone in my pocket suddenly felt so much heavier as my fingers twitched with the need to check for a notification that I knew wasn't there.

I looked in another direction.

"And tell him what—" God, I hope no one could hear that nervousness in my voice "—that his rival is a psychopathic weirdo who we don't even know the name of?"

"Wait . . . you actually like him?"

"No," I clarified then slammed my arm down into the couch to glare at her. "I'm just saying that personality aside—not ugly."

Rhonda fell silent.

Which was always bad.

I wanted to move on—give this subject the attention that it deserved—but I sighed and took the bait.

"Whaat?"

"Okay, so if you had to pick between them—random dude and Serec—which one would you pick?"

"What?!"

"If you had to pick between—"

"I heard what you said!" I snapped. "I just don't understand why you said it."

"Because they're both good looking, according to you, Bella Marie Swan."

"Wha—" my jaw went slack. "When did I say anything about Serec being good looking?"

Rhonda rose an eyebrow.

I glowered at her.

"C'mon, I wanna talk booys, I love talking boys," she said, expression scrunching as she rocked back and forth. She stopped when she noticed Lila. "Oh, and girls."

"Thanks, Rhonda."

"Gotcha back, red," she flashed her a thumbs up and a cheesy grin before turning back to me. "Now, Helga—the question."

"Why do I have to answer the question? Why can't it be Phoebe who answers your stupid questions?"

They were practically best friends anyway.

"Phoebe's attached, duh."

"So that means she still can't experience physical attraction?"

"You're avoiding the question!" Rhonda snapped and slammed her fists into the table. The action made everything wobble and threaten to topple over. Phoebe and I moved to steady the glasses when Lila reached forward. Her hands were blurs as they danced around the glasses, wrapping around them before they could hit the table, and setting them upright again. In seconds, they were sat perfectly straight, not a drop of wine on the table. I truly envied her abilities sometimes. "Unless, of course, you'd rather discuss your way more than surface level attraction to Arnold Shortman instead, hmm?"

I blinked, looking up at Rhonda's face. She hadn't even seemed to notice the scatter that she had caused. Her stare had pinned itself into mine and she looked nowhere near giving up. I wanted to face palm. Despite what she had said about only having a little wine, Rhonda was already tipsy.

"Ooh, yes, I would love to get in on that conversation," Lila perked up and scooched closer so she could tug on Rhonda's arm in excitement. Rhonda shared a smile with her and Lila wiggled her eyebrows at me.

Talk about traitor.

"Okay, no, no, we're not having this conversation—either of them," I declared and stabbed my finger in their direction.

Lila and Rhonda responded by pouting. "Awww."

It distinctly made me feel like a mother scolding her children. Her nosey children who needed to have the definition of boundaries stamped across their faces since they kept forgetting (although, Rhonda likely hadn't forgotten, she just didn't care). There was a part of me that wanted to give in and indulge in this conversation. I had, after all, only hours ago been talking with Arnold. He had his hands wrapped around me and looked at me like he was trying to send me messages. But I needed to put that spark out before it roared and turned into a full–blown fire. There was nothing to talk about.

He hadn't even messaged me.

"The point is that, well, not Wally," I continued, wanting to get them back onto track. "His name is not gonna be Wally. How about . . . Russel?"

Rhonda shuddered. "Nah. Hearing that name offends me. Rufus?"

"Rufus?"

"Yeah, like . . . Rufus the Doofus."

"Hmm," I tapped my chin. "Okay, points for the rhyme. Bonus points because it's immature and stupid, like him."

"Thank you."

"But minus points because it's the same name as the mole rat from Kim Possible."

Rhonda raised her eyebrows at that, unimpressed. "Really?"

"What?"

"No, no, she's got a point," Lila waggled her finger then grabbed her glass. "His name is not Rufus—case dismissed."

She clanged the bottom of her glass onto the table. But it still had some wine leftover in it, which sent it sloshing over the rim. It splattered across the surface, puddles small enough that they resembled pearls.

It filled the room with laughter.

And as it did, I marvelled at the warmth that I got from that. Pain had been gathering in my chest and pushed into the corners of my mind. Not just from this morning, but the stress that had been building these past few days—weeks even. The question that haunted me, would this ever end? and then the knowledge that it would, but the ending might be worse. But in that moment, it was like none of that mattered.

Even Nel had turned around, eyes softening with affection.

"How about Rupert?" Lila eventually asked.

"Nah, that's just unpleasant," Rhonda shrugged, looking like she had inhaled a bad smell.

"Well, how about Vincent?" Phoebe suggested. She slightly went pink when everyone looked at her but continued. "It's uncommon but still not altogether unpleasant to hear. Additionally, it has a snobbish ring to it, which I happen to think suits him rather well."

Rhonda, who had been finishing her glass, had to hold a hand to her mouth to stop from spitting the wine out.

"Me–ow, Heyerdahl," she said when she forced it down in a loud swallow. "Thought Nel was the only one here with claws. Oh, and Helga."

Nel wheeled her gaze back around to join me in glaring at Rhonda for that.

She ignored it, of course.

Lila announced, "All in favour of Sir Stick in the Mud being called Vincent until we find out his actual name, please say aye!"

"Aye!" Rhonda's hand shot into the air before she gave Phoebe a look. "Oi, Heyerdahl, it's your name—say aye!"

Phoebe glanced at everyone before raising her hand. "Erm, aye?"

And then, everyone looked at me.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever," I put my hand up. "It's better than what I was thinking anyway."

Rhonda put her hand down, curious. "What were you thinking?"

"I dunno—Geralt or something."

"Like, The Witcher Geralt?"

"Yeah."

"You're right. Vincent is much better than Geralt," Rhonda announced then turned to stick her nose up in the air. "Geralt of Rivertown—"

"It's Rivia."

"Whatever—Geralt whatshisname is a beautiful man and does not deserve to be tarnished by comparisons to the likes of that man!" she crossed her arms. "I don't care if you're in love with him, I'm insulted that this was even suggested to me."

At least I could be bothered remembering his name.

Phoebe spoke up anyway. "What's The Witcher?"

"What?!" Rhonda swung around to Phoebe in her outrage. "You haven't seen The Witcher?! That was, like, the hottest show on Netflix!"

"You'll find no objections over here," Lila added, cradling her chin in her hands. "But then they had to ruin it by keeping it hetero."

"Bad decision," I agreed with her.

"The worst!" Rhonda burst. She turned back to Phoebe to slap a hand onto her shoulder. "And the main guy? Totally dreamy! Right Helga?"

"He is pretty dreamy," I admitted. "Although personally, I preferred the other—"

"Usually, sleepovers require that we watch at least one Pirates of the Caribbean movie," Rhonda continued like I hadn't even said anything. I made a face as she presumed back into her mentorship role, only this time with Phoebe as her victim. Palms pressed against each other, she stretched her neck and raised her chin, pushing back her shoulders. I couldn't help chuckling. "However, we don't do that anymore because . . . y'know."

"Johnny Depp," we all supplied in unison. Then shuddered. Because yeah, no, never again.

"Understood," Lila nodded.

"So," Rhonda clapped her hands onto Phoebe's shoulders. "We'll watch an episode of The Witcher instead!"

Phoebe's eyes popped open when she found her wrist being yanked on. "Hu—"

"Come on!" Rhonda dragged the poor girl around to face the television. She grabbed the remote and began flipping through the apps. "No friend of mine will be deprived of the hot glory that is Henry Cavill!"

Lila, who had been following them with her gaze, rose her eyebrow at this. "Didn't he date a nineteen year old while in his thirties—"

"Shut up, Lila!"

Rhonda began babbling about a bunch of context that she felt was needed as she scrolled through Netflix. Her hand wrapped around Phoebe's as she could barely contain her excitement. To my surprise, Phoebe didn't seem to fake her enthusiasm, like Lila had been doing. She was a little overwhelmed, but as she watched the screen, she nodded along and took in the information.

I watched the scene, wanting to say something but feeling that I shouldn't. The words were there, swirling in my throat. But they were pressing to the walls—swelling. Scratching until it threatened to bleed. A familiar ache began beating slow and thick in my chest. I knew that I was being stupid—selfish. We were a team; our lives were tied to one another's in a way that would never be the same with anyone else. But as I watched Rhonda ramble, her eyes now light, I felt like I was getting pushed back a million miles away.

Space between us stretched as the lights hanging over us turned into criss–crosses, like they wanted to keep me away from them. And maybe they should. Phoebe's expression had become enamoured, moving away from the nervousness that I had left it in. Her shoulders were relaxing and an easy smile was rolling across her lips.

Being Guardians meant that we were in a position where burdens hung over our shoulders. Burdens that would crush our necks in silence. It was important to take breaks and be normal, so we could exist outside of those burdens. Feel the sunshine gather across our face and dance beneath it—enjoy it—rather than just protect it.

'You haven't even given us the chance to learn how powerful we are.'

But watching them, I felt like I was apart of those burdens. I watched as every time that I spoke, the lights in their eyes went out. I opened my mouth and the chains were back around their wrists. Their wings were bound. Cracks that had been fused back together were then broken apart. I was supposed to protect them, but I was apart of the weight that marred their shoulders. I was supposed to look out for them, but I killed the light that they brought in.

'You like to be above everyone.'

I killed the light that Rhonda brought in.

'You feel important—justified.'

I realised that as much as I had agonised over how awkward this night would be, how it wasn't possible for us to be normal, so we shouldn't even bother trying, Rhonda had gone out of her way to prove that thought wrong. It had been tense in the beginning and sure, that still managed to leak its way into the occasional pause in conversation, but Rhonda picked it up every time. The night flew as quickly and seamlessly as it did because it was carried on her back. She had an ability to make you forget as she talked about the little things—things that didn't really matter in the long term. When you were a Guardian, that ability was precious. It became easy to lose sight of the present as you were so strung on the future. Existing in the timetable that we did—where it was a constant repeat of going to school, going to training, saving the world and then going to sleep—it was easy to feel alone. You had to keep so much of yourself stuffed behind bars, it felt like no one really knew you, and you could barely know them. It was like nothing mattered and as everything stretched so thin, the world was bled dry of its colours, and you were locked behind an interlacing of black and white.

But Rhonda's pettiness . . . it brought me back and made me feel like that stuff mattered. Made that stuff fun again. She had an ability to make you begin caring again. And I envied her for that.

Always the shield, never the victor.

I could protect people as much as I wanted, but I could never make them happy.

A weight plopping down beside me jolted me from my thoughts.

I looked up and found myself staring up at a screen that showed both mine and Lila's face. I blinked, looking to the side where Lila was already beaming.

She paused, noticing that my attention wasn't on the camera, and glanced at me.

"What? Smile, Helga," she insisted, not dropping her smile.

Instincts burned and screamed for me to shove her away and cover my face. I was not a photo girl. And she was so much prettier than me. It was setting me up for failure.

But I didn't.

Instead, I turned to the camera and forced a grin. And Lila snapped it before I could begin overthinking it. She moved back against the seat—only a few inches from where she had been pressing herself into my side—and flipped through the filters before typing out a caption.

She then uploaded it to her insta story.

I sighed, already regretting my decision to go along with her. "Oh, come on, Lila."

"Hush, you look cute," Lila waved her hand as she shoved her phone back into her pocket.

I rolled my eyes, knowing that she was lying.

There hadn't been much time to change after I had gotten back home. I had brushed my hair then pulled it back into a ponytail. It was shaggy–looking; strands fell around my face and hung above my brows. I had accepted that my comfort hoodie was on its last few days and that it was too worn out to be wearing when it was so cold. So, I had traded it for a red hoodie that I hadn't worn in years.

I wanted to like it, but red wasn't my colour.

I wasn't Rhonda.

"I look frumpy," I told her to block out my thoughts.

Lila made a face at that. The space between her brows crinkled slightly as she examined my face. It made me feel self–conscious, I could only imagine the things that she was thinking. But then, her face split into a teasing grin.

"You sound frumpy," she poked my side. "Mrs. Frumpison."

I made a face. "Really?"

"Sorry Helga, but it's true. There isn't any sense in denying it."

"Denying what?" Rhonda's voice suddenly rung from across the room and when we looked, she was already staring at us.

I wanted to be annoyed that she was doing that thing again—being nosey—but I couldn't, because it just made me more aware of the differences that separated us. She just cared.

While I didn't.

"Helga's a total frump."

"Oh, yeah," Rhonda nodded. "And a grump."

Defensively, I crossed my arms. "I am not a grump."

Lila poked me again. "You're pouting."

"You totally are," Rhonda tilted her face with an amused smile.

"Am not."

"Are."

"Am not!"

"Are!"

"Am not!"

"Am not!"

"Are!" I slammed my fist into the side of the couch when I realised what I had said. Heat burned my face. And everyone started laughing—well, Phoebe at least had the decency to cover her mouth. But Lila and Rhonda slapped their knees, cheeks turning pink, from how hard they were chuckling.

I wanted to yell at them, tell them to mind their own, but then I found myself laughing along. Because what were we even fighting about?

My phone then rattled and my heart jumped into my throat. I practically yanked the thing from my pocket and shook it until the notification appeared and—

Oh.

I deflated when I realised that I was only being alerted that I'd been tagged in Lila's story.

I sighed in disappointment. It was a long shot, but I had hoped that accepting Arnold's request would mean that he would message me. I mean, he had approached me this morning and even held me back from leaving. Hell, he always seemed to be there wherever I was turning at school. I knew that it was stupid, but I had almost begun thinking—hoping—that he was purposely putting himself in my path. That the times we both caught each other's eyes weren't just coincidental, but because he had been seeking me out.

But that was stupid. It had been hours and—

I realised that everyone was watching me.

"What?" I suddenly felt self–conscious.

"What was that?" Rhonda asked and gestured at the phone with a small, curious frown.

"Nothing—nothing. Sorry, I'll put my phone away," I stammered, cursing the butterflies in my chest. I could feel their heat burning my cheeks even redder. Although technically, I wasn't lying, nothing had happened. I had been careful to press back those feelings, those fantasies. I had traded daydreams for reality years ago and that's what I was doing now. So why was I feeling guilty like the opposite was true?

But then, in my mission to evade Rhonda's suspicions, I accidentally crashed into Lila's gaze and instantly, she knew. I knew it. And she knew it. I just knew that she knew that I knew that she knew that I knew.

"I know that stutter!" she pointed at me, confirming my suspicions. "Arnold did something, didn't he?"

Uh oh. My heart dropped. Mayday, mayday—

"Wait, hold up, Shortman?" Rhonda hit the mute button when the TV begun playing a random trailer. She then wheeled around to face me, hands clapping into her knees. "You're actually talking to him?"

"I—no, I—"

"You're lying!" Lila burst and then began poking me again. "What did he do? What did he say? What did you say? Was it about the date you guys went on—"

"Jesus Christ, Lila, calm down!" I yelled and batted her hands away. "There was no message!"

Lila deflated. "Oh."

"Were you expecting for there to be a message?" Phoebe suddenly asked and crawled closer until she was at the coffee table. She sat on her knees and pressed me with a stare that made me feel like I was being examined.

And I cursed her because she seemed to know me more than I gave her credit.

"No," I turned away to hide my face. But when no one said anything, I sighed. "Okay, yes, I was . . . I accepted his request on Instagram."

The reaction that I got was much louder than what I had been expecting. Sure, I knew that the girls could seriously, seriously get nosey—and imaginative—when it came to Arnold, but I had been expecting for them to make faces and ask why I was blushing so much over a simple follow. But instead, everyone gasped like I had just revealed to them that Darth Vader was, in fact, Luke Skywalker's father. Lila drew her hands to her mouth, eyebrows raising until her forehead resembled folded fabric. Phoebe leaned forward, mouth forming into an O shape. And Rhonda—grounded as she was—fell backwards so that her back was on the ground and her face was staring to the roof. She waved her hands around as if there was an invisible audience up there that only she could see. She gasped along with them. Hell, even Nel had whirled around to listen in.

"Finally!" Rhonda shouted at her audience. "It only took, like, two hundred years!"

I frowned. "It did not—"

"What happened to make you change your mind?" Lila scooted closer to me and pressed me with a stare.

I inched away. "What?"

"Well, you were so against it prior," she explained. "So, what happened that made you stop resisting the passionate currents sweeping between you both?"

Oh, criminy.

"Okay—ew," I held up a finger and gave her a dirty look. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?" Rhonda asked and rocked forward so she was sitting up again. Her legs moved into a crossed position and she wrapped her hands around her ankles. Her eyes formed into points that pinned me there in my awkwardness, as she practically speared me with attention. "Something had to have happened."

I hated how perceptive she was. She actually tended to be quite on the mark when it came to boys . . . well, usually. She had been consistently wrong when it concerned Arnold. But I was surprised when I felt the urge to tell her more. Tell them more. I wanted to reveal to them what had happened—how he had held me. Looked at me. Drawn patterns into my wrists. I could still feel his fingers dancing across my skin and pushing a feverish heat into my chest.

I wanted to tell them, and perhaps I would have, if I didn't know what they would say: Helga, he likes you. They would get my spirits up and make me start believing again. Paint my heart a warm shade of pink. They would get me to rise when I had put so much effort into remaining sunken. I couldn't entertain this idea. Arnold didn't like me; it was as simple as that. I had considered his behaviour this afternoon, but it likely had been a misinterpretation on my end. In his conviction of remaining kind, he had slipped into the role of the dashing prince without even realising it. He likely was like that with all the girls. It's not like he wasn't popular amongst the female population. And when you had so many girls around you, vying for your attention, why would you ever turn in my direction? They were prettier, smarter and more caring. They were like him. Arnold needed a girl made of angel dust, not someone formed from the ash that clouded people's hearts.

He had just been nice.

"Nothing happened," I lied and found myself searching a random corner to escape their gazes. "I just figured it would get you guys off my case if I accepted his request."

Rhonda lifted her brow. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"You were only doing it, because you were thinking of us?"

"Yep."

"And you weren't, at all, doing it because of Arnold himself?"

"Nope," I popped the 'p' there. Crossed my arms. Tried to look nonchalant.

Rhonda scoffed. "You're such a liar."

And I frowned. "I am not!"

"Yes, you are! A big, stinky liar!" she made a face. "It's so obvious that you—"

"You should let us know when he messages you!" Lila interrupted and grabbed my hand. My gaze bounced to hers. "I know that boy like the back of my hand, I can help you formulate the perfect response that'll get him thinking about you for weeks."

I pressed my lips together. She looked at me, like it was simple, like it really was a possibility that could happen. Had happened. Him liking me. She genuinely wanted to help me. And I genuinely wanted her help. I was surprised to feel those words tangling in my throat—yes, please, anything, do you really think he could ever like me?

"Or—" Rhonda held up a finger. "She could send him a nude."

"HUH?!"

"Oh, yeah, that could totally work!" Lila dropped my hand and beamed at Rhonda. "Obviously, with consent."

"Duh," Rhonda nodded then turned to me. "Oh, don't look so surprised Helga—he's a teenage boy! It's not going to offend him or anything!"

"A straight teenage boy," Lila added.

"I'm sorry, didn't you make it a rule that we're not allowed to message boys?"

"No. I'm making it a rule that we're not messaging potential romantic and/or sexual partners," Rhonda corrected me. "Not all of us are into men y'know, you homophobe."

My jaw dropped.

"Hey, I'm into men," Lila said. "Just not full time."

"And I admire the multitasking, babe," Rhonda gave her a grin, raising her wine glass, which I hadn't even noticed she'd filled up again. "But back to your one and true love, Helga."

That made me face palm.

"You could send him a picture in that lingerie he gave you!"

Rhonda, who had gone back to drinking said wine, promptly spat it out at Lila's exclamation.

Phoebe's jaw went slack.

And I wished that the ground would open up and swallow me and then, hopefully crush my bones into powder so I wouldn't have to be here right now.

"Wha—"

"Helga," Phoebe raised her eyebrows, genuinely stunned. "I hadn't realised that you two had become so serious."

"We're not!"

"Then what's about him getting you lingerie, hmm?" Rhonda leaned forward to eyeball me. It made me want to shove her face back. She was acting like we were in the middle of a crime show where they were interrogating the primary suspect for murder. But the sad truth was that, with the way that she was looking at me, I genuinely felt like I had something to hide.

"No, you know what?! There's a whole bunch of context behind this!" I spluttered then gestured at Lila. "Lila got me the lingerie!"

Rhonda paused, blinking, and then looked between us. ". . . As you do."

Lila sighed and now that she found herself thrown under the bus—which she deserved—decided to give them the explanation.

"We were already at the store—you know, Honeywear?"

"I love that story!" Rhonda exclaimed.

I rose an eyebrow at her attention span.

"It's good, isn't it?!" Lila nodded, enthusiasm turning her gaze into stars.

I couldn't help smiling at them.

"Anyway, the lady at the counter—" Lila shuddered. "She was so scary. I bought the underwear because she made me feel like I had to get something so I grabbed the first thing that I could find. And then I gave it to Helga when I realised that I didn't like it." She turned to point at me. "But then Arnold said she would look cute in it!"

That made Rhonda and Phoebe gasp.

And I had no defence.

Because with everything that had happened since that day and on that day, I had completely forgotten about it.

"I—I—no, he—"

"Face it, Pataki," Rhonda said with a grin. That grin. The 'ha ha, I have won and proven you wrong, where's my crown?' grin. "The kid likes ya. Why? No idea, but it seems to me, in my professional opinion, that he's crushing. Major."

"Professional?" I repeated, rather than arguing. Because repeating was my argument.

"Yes."

"Winking at every boy that passes you in the hallway and batting your lashes like you're Jessica Rabbit doesn't make you an expert."

"I disagree."

"And I disagree with your opinion," I snapped. "Arnold doesn't like me."

Edges of a memory were already creeping back into my mind—bruised skies, birds casting us in their shadows, and his eyes falling back into mine. I forced them back out. Cast them away like the locket I had sent over the edge. I didn't need them. I had no more use for them. I already knew that nothing would happen between Arnold and me. Aliens invaded the earth before such a fantasy ever came true. It was just never going to happen.

Because he was Arnold Shortman, the boy who found and brought light to others, while I was Helga Pataki, the girl who snuffed that light out.

And everyone—including myself—needed to start remembering that.

"Helga and Arnold sitting in a tree," Lila began to sing as Rhonda drummed a beat against the table. "K–I–S–S–I–N—"

"Are you guys twelve?"

"No, we're sixteen," Rhonda suddenly snapped as she abandoned her drumming to glare at me. "And we're acting like it. I mean—dang, would it kill you to also act like that? We're teenagers, Helga. All of us. This is normal shit that we talk about."

"Normal shit that you talk about," I insisted and crossed my arms. "But I would much rather spend my time being realistic."

Rhonda scoffed. "Realistic is not a word I would use to describe you."

Phoebe shot her a look.

"Yeah, well, commiserate isn't a word I would use to describe you."

"I don't even know what that word means!"

Our glares were pushing hot against one another's, like a spark would catch between our eyes and send the room into flames. I could imagine the tapestries peeling back to reveal memories from this morning. How the evening light had tangled in his hair. Slid beneath his cheeks. Made his freckles look like stardust. He had always looked so good in the light. There was a twist in his lips. His fingers had drawn something into my wrist—had they been hearts? Or had I been making that up? It didn't matter, I decided, because he had been nice. He always was. And I wasn't about to let that ruin things.

Ruin me.

I could feel Lila looking at me in a way that made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

"Helga—"

"Can we just . . ." I released a breath. "Can we just continue watching the stupid episode?"

Silence had filled the room and when I came back, it was to Rhonda and Lila exchanging glances. Phoebe was examining me. I pressed my lips together and manoeuvred my features into the look at that I had perfected over the years. The look that made me feel like I was steel. That I was immune, that I had never existed. I believe what I had been telling them—that there was nothing to hide about today—but I didn't want Phoebe looking and finding something that wasn't there. Something that made me look better than what I was.

Eventually, Rhonda un–muted the TV and selected the episode. The room became filled with tension as we watched the images flashing across the screen. Beautiful women wearing pretty dresses, sweaty brows crinkling in pain, swords viciously swiping for flesh. I felt dirty as it happened. We had put this on for Phoebe's sake—the rest of us had already seen the episode—but her shoulders remained tense. Tight. And I realised that I had done it again: snuffed out someone else's light.

Snuffed it out to protect myself.

Helga Pataki, I thought to myself, the girl who would steal your light, and smile while doing it.

"Did you want to talk about it?"

Her voice came as a surprise.

She had spent pretty much the entire evening silent. Preferring to watch the lights puffing against the wet glass then join our chatter. I hadn't been surprised to find her silent exclusion from the team. She had never been good at existing in the moment. It was something we had in common with each other.

But I had been sure that I had disappointed her so much, that she wouldn't want anything to do with me. And yet, looking down to where the voice had come from, I found her—Nel. Staring at me.

She was sat in the doorway, tail flicking behind her. Eyes merging with mine.

I looked away.

"What's there to talk about?" My voice sounded false, pressed so low that it came out robotic. I shut off the tap, shaking the droplets from my fingers and then dried my hands on the towel. "They were being unrealistic. I wasn't."

"You were being rude."

I scrunched my face and tore my eyes away from the reflection. I had excused myself from the episode, citing the bathroom as my reason for leaving. I didn't know how long I had remained up here—pressed against the tiles and looking at the roof. But it had been when I had decided to pick myself up from the ground that Nel had found me.

I turned around so that my waist was pressed to the sink.

"Look, Nel, I get it, I fucked up—again. Hurt people once again," I moved the hair from my eyes. Pretended that the weight in my throat wasn't there. "You don't have to remind me; I've gotten it at this point."

I expected for her to snap at me—she had never liked it when I sassed her. And I doubted that she had come here just to watch me. But she didn't speak for a while. Instead, she examined me with soft eyes.

I hated that look.

"You do not hurt people," she said, slowly.

I snorted before I could stop myself.

"I don't hurt people the same way that Rhonda doesn't have the hots for Henry Cavil," I crossed my arms over my chest. Lowered my chin because the air was beginning to sting my eyes. "You can say it, Nel. I already know. You can't hurt me with the truth."

I expected for her to agree.

But she didn't.

"I cannot hurt you with the truth because you refuse to listen to the truth," she insisted. "And the truth is that you do not hurt people, Helga. You are too busy hurting yourself."

Good.

The word had rushed to my mind before I could stop it. I was surprised at the flash that I felt from that word. It was hot, burning from an anger that charred the back of my throat. It was an anger that was thick and had I been brave enough to peel back the layers, I would discover that its source wasn't nearly as strong as I had pretended that it was. That it only burned so hot because its source was a water that had been aching from the corner of my eyes for years.

And suddenly, the lights that hung over us became too much. Their brightness pinned me there, making me feel like I had been caught red–handed. This was why I preferred staying in the dark because I could at least pretend. But when I was here—standing someplace that didn't belong to me—I realised how mismatched I was. The light revealed and when it did, it pulled out the things that I had been keeping hidden. Sometimes, I looked at Nel like she was a light. Because when she looked at me, it was like she understood. Like she knew exactly what was happening in my head. I raised my eyes back to hers and knew that exactly that was happening again.

"You don't know me, Nel."

"As a matter of fact, Helga," Nel said, not looking the least bit affected by my tone. "I happen to think I might know you more then you know you."

It made something twist in my heart. Because I couldn't give her a rebuttal. She was right. Nel had been there from the start—watching me. Learning about me. It was her job to know me. She was supposed to study my movements so she could tell me where I needed to improve.

'Helga, you are being too hard on yourself.'

I had assumed that her becoming my mentor meant that she was my trainer. That she was here to bulk me up, have me learn some fancy moves then toss me out to defeat the bad guys. And maybe, that had initially been the goal. But she had been forced to pivot when it came to me; she spent more time telling me to stop rather than keep going. Because she wasn't just my mentor, no matter how much she had tried reinforcing that she was. She was the shadow that clawed its way into my mind. Cautioning me. Directing my focus back onto the facts, rather than keeping it cemented on the fighting. She was the darkness that stood behind me, never announcing herself, but always remaining there.

She was my Guardian, I realised. She was my Guardian which meant that often, she was trying to protect me from my own monsters.

'Helga, you're still hurt.'

But what if I needed those monsters? What if, in keeping my monsters close, I was keeping everyone else safe?

"You know, Nel, you wouldn't feel so confident about yourself, if you knew me before all of this," I told her, but my voice felt like it had been pushed far away from my ears. "I happen to be capable of doing some pretty terrible things when I'm not Blue Jay."

"We all are, Helga," she surprised me by saying. "We're all capable of terrible things. People comfort themselves with stories that tell them otherwise—that they are not capable, that evil has never been something that they had ever considered, or perhaps, in the past they had, but that is their past and now, they're anything but. Now, they could never even imagine doing those same things. They repeat those narratives to protect themselves from the truth. That we are all capable of anything and everything."

I turned away from her, dipping my chin slightly so I couldn't look at my reflection as I spun back around to the mirror. I could see my hands, how they shook as held them above the sink. I rolled them into fists.

"And in my experience, Helga, it is these people—the ones who do not believe themselves capable of evil, who imagine that evil exists in a vacuum that affects everyone but themselves, and that there's a magical barrier protecting them from even considering such a thing—they are the most dangerous of all."

I could feel tears gathering in my chest and slipping up my throat. I pressed my lips together, so nothing managed to slip out without permission. I couldn't lift my eyes to meet hers, even in the mirror.

"Whereas, it is the people who do not see themselves as any different from others standing around them; who do not think that they are protected by some holy power from committing heinous acts; who may look at themselves plainly and recognise that heroism is a not a destination, but a choice that one must make every day and even then, it still may not result in something perfect—they are the brave ones."

I tried my best to press down on those feelings that wanted to bubble up.

"Nel, what are you saying?"

"I am saying, Helga, that what makes these people brave is . . . they recognise that their intentions do not nullify their impact. They are still capable of hurting others, even when their motivations are charitable. But rather entangling themselves in semantics, they recognise that people exist outside of themselves, and commit to bettering themselves . . . even when if it brings shame for their past selves. To reconstruct ourselves, you must first recognise what you are reconstructing from," she said. "And that the only thing separating yourself from your past, is your decision, not some holy divinity. The duty to transform oneself from their past, it is not a singular action, but a continued focus that may last a lifetime and certainly, will require uncomfortable sacrifices. But it is never about that discomfort, or even the realism of it. Whether their efforts may improve the chances of it happening—it is about remaining true to your own beliefs."

I cleared my throat, wiping my mouth and fought to keep my tears down.

"Nel—"

"The odds were at their worst in the beginning, but you continued to fight against them," Nel said, stepping forward. "Not because you thought that things might improve. But because you believed that it was the right thing to do. You didn't wait for hope to find you, you became your own hope."

She chuckled.

"And I couldn't think of a better example of a Guardian," she said. "You bring people much peace and contentment when you are Blue Jay . . . but one day you will realise that your journey started long before I found you, before you were given that pin. And when you do, you will look in the mirror and feel that same peace and contentment that Blue Jay brings. Because you will recognise that Blue Jay has only been capable of the things that she has done, because of Helga Geraldine Pataki."

She left me like that—staring in her spot, even when it was empty.

I moved my eyes back to my reflection and was surprised to find how glossy my eyes had become. It would be a cliché to describe their shade as water. My eyes were blue and they looked like liquid, but that had never been what I thought of when I looked at them. I imagined sapphires—a clean, smooth surface made from sapphires. Sapphires that had been created to dazzle you so you wouldn't want to dig further and destroy the illusion. Because beneath those sapphires was something else. Fire. So hot that it burned blue.

I thought back on what Nel had said, that transformation needed continued focus, rather than a gullible belief that redemption lied in some imaginary finishing line that once you crossed, you never had to worry about again. Those were the dangers of change, and what I had been scared of falling into. I needed something to chase, something to keep me going, otherwise there was nothing keeping me from my past. A part of me felt validated in what Nel had said, but a bigger part of me stirred. My monsters weren't my enemies, they were my saviours. They made me different, they kept everyone safe. The fire that burned from beneath my eyes, I carried it everywhere that I went. It burned holes into my joints. Hissed from the mental scars. The fire wanted to come out and wreak havoc like it had done before. And once, I had allowed for it to happen and that became the worst time in my life—when everyone hated me. Because I had given them reason to.

When I had pulled away from Arnold, I had sought to destroy those flames. Numb myself into an iciness. Because I couldn't go back, when everything had been too strong to control. I had become good at pressing down on the flames, turning them into embers simmering in the wood. But I could never fully extinguish those embers. They still burned from deep within my soul. Took so much space that when I became Blue Jay, they were pressing into my skin again. Roaring. Sizzling. Until they were spilling down my back and into my hair. Flames that rolled from my scars to spread into wings.

And it was alright when I was her. I could control it as Blue Jay. I had worked to contort myself into a position that wasn't anything like Helga. Shield, never the victor. I trusted myself when I was her because I was no longer me.

I had become good at snuffing out the light in others because over the years, I had been trying to do the same to myself.

But when I looked into my eyes to find that fire again, I felt like a failure, because I knew that it was a losing battle. That I needed to keep contorting myself, punishing myself, otherwise I would become what I had once been. I looked to the skies because when it grew tired of people looking at it, it hid behind the clouds. And I had done the same. I needed to fight against the instincts that crept up my spine. I needed my monsters to keep disfiguring me so I wouldn't be anything like myself.

So that I wouldn't become him.

"The sins of the father," I murmured softly, "become that of the son's."

The furthest thing from fire, was ice. It held, while fire burned. I had pretended to be cold, modelled myself after ice water, so I wouldn't be anything like my father.

My phone buzzed with another notification.

I didn't react immediately. Barely even noticed it until I saw the light blaring from the corner of my vision. I turned my head in the direction of my screen. Registered a name.

Then turned it off.

"Okay!" Rhonda announced when I had gotten back to the bathroom. She had moved the lamp so that it stood in the middle of the table. The lights had been shut off so that the only brightness shot from the bulb beneath her chin. It swept her expression up in harsh shadows, making her look like she was planning on telling us a ghost story. Shadows twisted beneath her eyes as she scanned our expressions. "Now, as leader of our fantabulous squad—"

"You're not the leader, I am."

"It's my house, you fanny!" she snapped then presumed. "Anyway, as owner of the residence that we are currently residing in, I declare that we now revoke one of the deepest, sacred traditions of any teenage slumber party amongst women!"

She paused for dramatic effect, but I lifted an eyebrow. "Did you mean invoke?"

Her expression entangled in a dirty look. Lila sent a small slap my way but when I checked, she was barely containing her laughter.

Rhonda continued. "Truth or Dare!"

I groaned. "Really?"

"Yes, it's tradition!" she barked then pulled something from her pocket.

"It's cliché."

"You're cliché!"

"I think it could be fun," Phoebe attempted to offer some peace.

"Thank you, Phoebe! For having my back through the thick and thin! Unlike Ms. Frumpison over there!" Rhonda gestured dismissively at me. "Besides, I think it could be good for us."

"You mean you," I corrected and folded my arms. "Because you're incredibly nosey."

"No, and hypocritical coming from you," Rhonda gave me a sharp look. "Look, we're a team now. Our lives kinda depend one another for better and worse. If there's any bad blood—aside from the obvious—might as well get it out there and not when we're on the battlefield, am I right?"

I opened my mouth to challenge that because I was so not in a sharing is caring mood. I was in a I want to get this over and done with as quick as possible and then go back home where I could crash and slide back into a numbed haven type mood. But I realised I didn't actually have anything to fight back with because honestly, she kinda had a point. It was smarter to bring anything out now rather than when we were in danger.

"Ugh," I threw up my hands in defeat. "Fine—whatever."

"Great!" Rhonda grinned, clapping her hands. "Okay so the rules are the same as they always are; only the asker or darer must hand their victim this—" she presented a small, squishy red ball which she must have pulled from her pocket. "—stress ball before asking or daring. Capiche?"

Phoebe and I nodded.

"Victim—good word," Lila nodded her approval.

"I know!" Rhonda agreed, completely oblivious to the dig. She sat back down onto her knees and cleared her throat. "Anyway, it's my house so I shall be the one to start us off."

Oh, what a martyr.

She made as face like she was considering her options as she looked over our faces. Only as much effort as she was putting into convincing us, I was fairly certain she already had her target picked before she had even planned the rules.

"Lila!"

I shook head, feeling somewhat vindicated.

Lila blinked then held her arm out to catch the ball in her palm.

"Truth or Dare?"

Lila's eyebrows moved together as she examined the expression on Rhonda's face. She grimaced.

"Dare."

Rhonda squinted. "I dare you to pick truth."

"Fine—truth."

"Reveal to us the details of your crush!"

I made a face. Yes, because this would totally help us while we were out in battle.

Lila rolled her face, likely processing the same thought. Phoebe seemed like the only one actually shocked at this reveal. Although I wasn't sure if it was the question that surprised her, or that Lila had a crush.

"Redhead," Lila shrugged.

"Dyed?"

"Yes," she nodded and leaned backwards onto her palms. "Darkish, almost auburn. Stands at 5'3". Dreams of moving to the countryside despite growing up in the city so she can live out a cottagecore fantasy. Loves sunsets, twilights and will read anything by Octavia E. Butler. Favorite flowers are white tulips. She's allergic to dogs, never had a cat, but wants a bird—a canary—which she'll name Laura."

Lilas eyes dipped and when they did, my heart sank. Everyone knew about her feelings for Savannah. We all teased her for it because as much as Lila liked composing herself, her feelings blatantly played across her face whenever Savannah was within the vicinity. But what made it hard was that we weren't sure if those feelings were returned. Savannah had always been so strung on Arnold—I made a face—who always seemed to be tied to everything happening in this city.

"She sounds great, Lila," I said and pressed my hand into her wrist. Her eyes jumped to mine and I smiled at her.

And I meant it.

I hadn't wanted to like Savannah. The way she had been hanging onto Arnold, laughing at his jokes, stroking his skin—it had made me so irritated. It hadn't helped that she didn't like me either (although, that was my fault). I wanted to hate her because that would have made it easier. To dismiss her as an obstacle taking up room beside Arnold that I should be keeping for myself. And maybe, I would have, had I been the girl from before. But now, I couldn't help liking her. She was too darn likable. She was smart, funny and sincere. She wouldn't lie to you and there was a comfort in that. You could be sure that she wasn't hiding anything from you. I admired honesty that wasn't without compassion. Becoming friends had been easy, I hadn't even realised that it'd happened until we were joking around with each other.

I could see why Lila had fallen for her.

Lila lifted her mouth into a half–smile before turning to Rhonda. "That enough?"

"For now," Rhonda grinned at her. Lila rolled her eyes, but it was accompanied with a smile. Watching it, I heard myself chuckling. Rhonda gestured at the ball. "Welp, your turn now, Lila."

Lila lifted a brow and looked at me.

Uh oh.

"Helga," Lila chucked the ball and when I caught it, a slyness moved across her lips in the form of a smile. I gulped. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

I wasn't risking it with Lila.

"Baby," Rhonda snickered into her hand.

Lila ignored her. "What'd you do with the lingerie?"

I blushed.

"Stuff it to the bottom of my drawers," I admitted before I could begin thinking too much about that day.

"Aww, even after Arnold said—"

"Yep."

His name sounded awful in my ears.

"Shame. Seems like it could be useful now that you guys follow each other on Instagram."

"Ooh, that's a good idea!" Rhonda's face brightened. "I dare you to—"

"Nope. I've already answered. Now it's my turn to be asking," I interrupted, tossing the ball in between my palms as I looked at the faces around me. I thought back onto any conversation that I could pull from, then turned to Rhonda. "What happened between you and that guy? Erm, Nick?"

Rhonda caught the ball, but when she did, I watched as her expression clouded. Her lips, which were always twisted in their amusement, straightened, and a frown wedged between her brows. Her eyes simmered into a look that reminded me of glass.

It was surprising considering how wild she had been all night. She had never bothered holding anything back. Her skin glowed like it could barely contain the fire that weaved from behind her eyes. Whereas, Lila's hair was fire, Rhonda's soul was fire.

But right now, it was like she had cooled.

She slid her gaze from the ball then back to my face.

"You guys seemed like you were an item," I rushed to supply and suddenly became nervous. I was stepping into a territory that was new to me. I didn't venture too deep into Rhonda's personal life. She was the kind that pried without offering much in return. She blurted things out that she was comfortable sharing but kept others tight to her chest. Nick must have been one of those things. "And, well, now you don't? Anything happen?"

Rhonda cocked an eyebrow.

The silence that followed was tense and pressed cold into my face like weights. I was overcome with the realisation that I had done something wrong again. Spoken when I should have pulled back and become apart of the background. Pretended that I hadn't existed. That I didn't care.

Traded fire for ice.

Rhonda finally sighed. "What does it look like? We broke up."

I could feel Lila scowling.

"Oh, erm, sorry," I stammered. I was embarrassed to find that I wanted to continue and find out what had happened, but it seemed like it was a sore subject.

"Why?" Rhonda asked blankly. "It's not like we were even together that long."

Yep. Definitely still a sore subject.

"Anyway, my turn—Phoebe," Rhonda then chucked the ball at the girl. But Phoebe had been wrapped up in what had been happening, so she wasn't anticipating having something thrown at her. Her reflexes were slower than ours had been as she struggled to catch it. "Alright, time to get to the hard stuff: why did you turn down being a Guardian?"

Her words made me react in a way that I didn't understand. This entire night, I had held myself at a crossroads, mourning my friendship with my best friend, while also, resenting her newer one with Rhonda. I hated it because it made me feel replaceable, or that Phoebe just needed a protector, it didn't matter who it was. But looking at Phoebe had those same urges racing down my spine. Her lips had split apart in her shock. Her eyes turned wide and alert and had latched onto mine.

"What?"

Rhonda's eyes went to mine, and I realised that I'd spoken.

"You all heard me—Phoebe, why'd you turn down becoming a superhero?" Rhonda repeated then folded her arms across the table. She leaned forward until her chest was grazing the surface. "And I mean, really. Not whatever bull that you've told them. I want the real deal."

"I—I—I—"

"You're such a bitch," I snapped. And I meant it. I was still angry at Phoebe, but this was too much. I remembered how Rhonda had been around her these past few days. Offering her support and giving her advice. I wondered if those had all been methods to get Phoebe to open up.

"What?" Rhonda looked genuinely puzzled at my conviction. "Like you're not curious."

"I'm not nosey like you," I spat. "It's none of our busi—"

"Liar."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a shitty liar, Pataki," Rhonda said and moved her cheek onto the heel of her palm. "Every time that you've spoken to her, you've made it clear to everyone here how angry you still are."

"Yeah, well, I—" I paused.

I wanted to berate Rhonda and tell her that she was wrong, but that was the thing—she wasn't. Phoebe and I . . . I'd made a promise to her that we would be alright. But every time that I looked into her eyes, I still felt that betrayal. I couldn't get it out of my head. It had become a sinking feeling that had grown this past week and I was exhausted from pretending that I didn't feel it. I hated myself for it because I knew that this was unfair. But Rhonda may have had a point.

"Besides, I think that it's fair to ask," Rhonda said, straightening again. "She had her reasons—I'm not doubting that—but I'd like to know what they were, as a member of the team. So we can prevent something like that from happening again. I mean, this isn't just about us."

Her words were a glass that had the room swelling from beneath their edges. I hated how eloquent Rhonda's logic could be at times. I lowered my gaze. It made it difficult to argue with her.

"And admit it, you wanna know just as badly as I do," she pointed out. I rose my eyes back to hers and was surprised with how soft her gaze had become. She was doing that thing where her lips tilted downwards, as her eyes pressed a message into mine. It sometimes was hard to read her intentions, but this was crystal clear to me. I'm trying to move us past this. Rhonda was waiting for me to object but when I didn't, she turned back to Phoebe. "Well, Heyerdahl?"

Lila had been slipping her gaze between Rhonda and I. I was surprised with how little she had reacted to the whole thing. But when I looked at her, I caught the concern in her gaze. She was checking to see if I was alright. I gave her a small nod, which she returned, before we turned our focus to Phoebe.

Her eyes were the first thing that I saw. My heart clenched because she was looking at me like she was expecting for me to say something. And maybe I should've. But I didn't.

Her gaze rolled across the surface where her fingers had tangled with each other.

"Fine," she eventually relented. "I was scared."

"Obviously," Rhonda blurted but squawked when Lila hit her. "Ow! What? It was! Obviously, she'd be scared of all the fighting, I was as well so it's nothing—"

"No, not of the fighting," Phoebe interrupted. I was surprised with how her voice had hardened. "I mean, yes, obviously fighting and then being wounded, that . . . it was a large part of my reasoning. A justified part of my reasoning . . . but that's not what I'm referring to. That wasn't what I was scared of."

The air became a still breath.

"I was scared of . . ." she sucked in a breath. "My parents. I was . . . am scared of my parents."

I was surprisingly listening to a lot of folk music while writing this chapter. That's why there's so much nature imagery lol

But yes, there you have it! Chapter 29! No Arnold, unfortunately! But the next chapter, the girls are finally going to lower their barriers! Stay tuned!

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