Friendly Dating - Kira

Chapter 6 - The Delia Deal

Yup, I was right; I'm covered in scrapes and bruises.

Most of them were self-inflicted during my adventure in the wilderness, wearing my school uniform and waving around a hockey stick like a demented drum majorette, but the more obvious scratches and blue marks are totally Ethan's fault.

What?! It was his idea to sit on the rock!

It probably wasn't his idea to fall off it, though; he seemed to be as surprised as I was, but it's still his fault because... Just because.

I rub my lower back. It's a little stiff after that fall, and turning in front of the bathroom mirror, I check out my entire length from behind, admiring the pattern of small scratches marking where branches and twigs made their way under my clothing.

I suddenly have a very vivid vision of Ethan and me lying in the bush with our legs pointing straight up like a couple of dead budgies, and I double over with giggles. 

Yeah, I can laugh about it now. Didn't feel so funny at the time, but now I kinda wish I had a picture. It would not do Ethan's Mr Cool image any favours if I posted it on... the social media apps I never use.

I'm already not cool, so it's all good.

Taking a towel from the rail, I dry myself and pull on my Look-I'm-A-Bunny PJs. No, it doesn't actually say that on there, but the short has a soft, spongy bunny tail, and the short-sleeved top has a hoodie with ears. It is made of soft pink t-shirt material covered in cute white and blue bunnies... and it is my favourite pyjamas.

Ethan calls it my Silence of the Bunnies PJs since the suit is technically a bunny, wearing other bunnies, but we've already established that Ethan is a moron.

I brush my hair, letting it fall tangle-free and damp around my towel-covered shoulders and leave the bathroom after making it more or less tidy.

I nearly swallow my tongue and wet my pants, traumatising the little bunnies hopping around all over it, when I cross the hallway and enter my bedroom to find Delia sitting on my bed playing with the moon, making it flash green and purple and red in my darkened room.

It is not unusual for Delia to be in my room at any time of the day or night (nor for me to be in hers), but it is unusual for her to be here when I'm walking around trying to wrap my head around her brother's strange request, wondering what I'm going to tell her when the topic comes up.

"Hey!" I shout. "How are you?!"

"Not deaf," she informs me, turning off my moon lamp and placing it back on its stand on my bedside table when I turn on the main light, chasing away all the shadows.

"Sorry, I was startled," I admit, lifting the towel from my shoulders to bury my hair and most of my face in it.

"Got the hockey stick back, thanks," she says, and I can hear a gazillion questions in that one sentence.

I didn't want to let Ethan return the stick to her, it seemed suspicious to me, but he reminded me that we're always sending each other stuff via him as if he's our friggin' courier - his words - so I let him take it. Now I'm regretting that decision.

Delia knows! I'm sure she does!

What exactly does she know? That her brother is a weirdo? She's known that all her life, nothing new there...

"Thanks for lending it to me..." Now, to think of a good way to explain borrowing it without lying – I never lie to Delia; we made a pact – but also without telling the truth. Tricky...

"Why are you all scratched up?!" she rises from my bed to stand in front of me so that she can inspect all my injuries. Calling them injuries is probably a bit over the top; they're nothing, not even worth mentioning, and I tell her so.