Nothing in Between

18

Clyde didn't know how long they had been outside for. Whether it was three or six hours, it felt like they had been there forever. She was so exhausted, from walking, from hoping that they would eventually find Coffee, but no one had apparently seen him.

It was late in the afternoon when they hesitantly decided to stop for today, because they had practically asked every person in the neighborhood. It was a shame that no one had given them the single answer they were desperately hoping to receive.

Her heart burned. Clyde didn't know what to do now that Coffee had gone missing, and it was probably because of her. She hated this, and she hated the faint feeling inside of her stomach that hadn't seemed to fade since they had begun asking around.

It just felt so hopeless. Clyde didn't expect that she would spend an entire day looking for her cat, when she was literally supposed to be taking a break from life. And it seemed like everyone else felt the exact same way, judging by their solemn faces.

The look on Royce's and Betty's faces were just like hers, Clyde found. But it seemed like they were trying to stay a little more hopeful, because Clyde had already been mumbling on and on about how they were definitely never going to find Coffee again.

She didn't know when she became so pessimistic.

Clyde knew she wasn't always that way. Even her best friends knew that; they knew the version of her that somehow believed in the most stupidly impossible things, the version of her that they jokingly called delusional. She found it a little entertaining.

Was it so stupid to say that she missed that version of herself? Probably.

Clyde knew that she shouldn't hate change. But when it was change that slowly added to the chronic sadness that had taken over her soul when she was seventeen, she couldn't help but form an extreme hate, almost repulsion and disgust, towards it.

But maybe, Clyde had always been that way. Maybe believing the most impossible things was the last cling of hope she had. Maybe it was the only thing that truly kept her hopeful in yearning for Taylor's return. Clyde couldn't believe it had actually worked.

Now that it had worked, Clyde immediately stopped believing in fantasies.

She simply used her free hand to wipe the droplets of sweat off her forehead and pushed her glasses up. The lenses on Clyde's eyeglasses were foggy and certainly prevented her from seeing properly, somewhat like her mind since meeting Taylor at the park.

And when they headed back into the house, the first thing they all did was slump onto the couch. Everyone was so tired, and hungry, and slightly annoyed. Clyde truly felt the worse out of everyone, though. It was her cat that had suddenly gone missing.

Betty had been trying to cheer her up all the way home, though it didn't quite make Clyde feel better. Sure, it had surely helped in calming her down and preventing her from angrily kicking things on the way home, but it definitely didn't lessen her worry.

"Can't you just text Taylor or something?" Royce suddenly spoke.

In response, Clyde rolled her eyes. "I told you, I don't have her number."

"We can drive you to her parents' house," Betty said softly.

Clyde totally didn't know why, but that sentence made her extremely angry. Maybe it was Betty's tone, making it seem like she was talking to a dumb teenager instead of an actual adult who was a mere five years younger, but it stupidly angered Clyde.

She briefly clenched her jaw and reminded herself that Betty was trying to be nice. Clyde really did appreciate that Betty was trying to help, but Clyde didn't want to hear that soft tone when she was panicking and extremely frustrated about something.