Courage

Chapter Twelve

[Maya]

I took an Uber home to avoid riding with Heather Chandler 2.0. It was expensive, but worth it. I went up the stairs slowly to avoid seeing Francesca.

When I stepped into the kitchen Camila was at the counter.

"She said she's really sorry," Camila told me.

"If she was that apologetic she'd come say sorry to my face, and you don't have to play messenger," I replied.

I went to bed early that night.

The next day, I was in a rush to get out of the house so I wouldn't have to face the pretty witch. I had no idea where I wanted to go today, but I just needed to get out of the house, again. I gathered my purse and jacket in a hurry for absolutely nothing.

Sadly, when I went to the kitchen to get a water bottle, the witch was there as well, tapping her acrylic nails on the marble counter impatiently. Her tapping stopped once we made eye contact.

"Maya," she said. I ignored her and proceeded to close the fridge and leave. "Maya?" I sauntered to the door, and sighed as she followed behind me. "Maya, I know you hear me calling you . . . . Maya!"

"What?!" I snapped, turning to face her.

"Where are you going?" she asked innocently.

"Why does it matter to you?" I demanded.

"Why are you still mad at me? I apologized." Oh, my god. Is she serious?

"You didn't apologize, you had your sister be a messenger. If you were really sorry, you would apologize to my face for acting like a total bitch to me yesterday."

She opened her mouth to say something but I wasn't done.

"You know, for someone who's actually really pretty, your attitude is ugly," I continued.

"You think I'm pretty?"

I don't even know why I try with her.

"Goodbye." I put my hand on the knob.

"Wait! Okay, I'm really, really sorry for acting the way I did last night. I was disrespectful and rude and very churlish," she admitted. "Let me make it up to you."

"What are you gonna do?" I folded my arms against my chest.

"Take you to a spa."

Do I want to go somewhere with her? "I don't know."

"Please," she entreated softly.

She held on my arm with both hands. Her lower lip was jutted out and she stared at me with her pleading puppy dog-like green eyes.

"Fine," I yielded.

She smiled at my response and gave a quick "Thank you."

The ride wasn't completely silent; Francesca had permitted me to change the radio station, but I left it alone. Then she assured me that it really was okay for me to change the station, saying, "Seriously, if you want to change the station, you can. I know ABBA isn't for everyone." I didn't respond.

It seemed like the woman at the front desk of the salon seemed to know Francesca very well. I thought Francesca was just going to drop me off and leave, but no, we were doing this together. The massage, the hot coal, mud bath, and now the sauna.

"Are you having fun?" Francesca inquired.

"Yeah, so much fun." Translation: But I'd be having a blast if you weren't here.

"After this we can go get lunch together and maybe talk about—"

"No, no, Francesca, no." I held my hand up. Something about the face she was making made me feel remorse. "I don't want to get lunch with you. I just want to go home. But if you really are hungry, you can go wherever you want, and I'll call an Uber to drop me off at the apartment."

"Why don't you want to go . . . with me?" she muttered. "I apologized. Why can't you forgive me?"

"Why do you want me to forgive you so badly?"

"Because I just do! Okay?"

"Why? You don't need my forgiveness, I'm nothing to you." It didn't make sense to me, why she wanted to make up for yesterday so badly. Who am I to her—that she feels the need to do this?

"You're not 'nothing' to me. Deluded you are sometimes," she muttered that last sentence. "Okay, that was rude. Look, you're not someone who . . . who deserves to be a human punching bag because you're—you, you're just fawn-like, you know? "

"Where is this going?"

"When I yelled at you yesterday and you yelled back, I realized how much of a terrible person I am, that I made someone as fawn-like as you— snap."

I understood what she was trying to say. It's like when the annoying kid in class' behavior makes the quiet kid start yelling at them.

"I'm really sorry. This is probably a surprise, but I kind of consider you a friend, or someone I want to be friends with."

"Why would you want to be my friend?"

She shrugged. "You humble me."

"I humble you," I repeated.

"Mm-hm."

"Huh. Good to know."