NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY | ✓

19: a root

            The night warms at least two degrees when I'm left alone in it with Joe. We stare at each other, uncertain of how to act outside of our Spectrum-established routine. Caleb took her empty bottle inside but now Joe has nowt to do with her hands. I fidget with my rings.

'I like your makeup,' I say. 'I like how you always match the colours of your eyeliner with your clothes. And the shimmer—it makes you look like a fairy.'

Joe stares for several seconds before she realises what she's doing. 'Sorry, I'm just not used to men complimenting my makeup. Half of you people think my eyelids are naturally purple.' Her laugh chokes on a grimace. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to offend.'

'I weren't offended,' I say. 'My best mate's a drag queen, so...'

Joe inclines her head to say "fair" before she smiles again. 'Well, thank you. The eyeliner is actually face paint that I've had since I was seven.' Her eyes journey over my features. 'I like yours too. You look fit with liner. You should wear it more.'

I blush. I'd completely forgotten about the eyeliner Caleb drew on me during pres and I wrestle the urge to rub it off. 'Eyeliner is kind of my brother's thing. He covers like half his face in the stuff.'

Joe's mouth curves into a grin I don't quite understand. Until: 'You talk about your brother a lot.'

Forget serial killer vibes, I'm all "boring single parent" vibes now.

'Yeah.' I drop my focus to my feet, nudging flattened fags into the gaps between the paving stones. 'Well they're important to me. I'm sorry. I know it's annoying.'

But Joe's face has none of the cruelty I expect. No irritation or boredom. Her gaze is gentle. 'No, I think it's sweet. You're lucky to be so close.'

Close. Right...

'I used to be really close with Jaz—that's my older sister, we're the middle kids. There are four of us in total. We shared a room when we were young and she'd always wear the dresses my mum kept buying me and I'd wear her boy clothes. Win-win.

'But then she moved to Hamburg to study and even after she moved back to London, it just wasn't the same. Which is a bit pathetic. We've not had a row or anything. But we used to be like... telepathic.'

Joe smiles at the memory, fond more than sad. Joe has long since accepted that they'll never have the relationships they had when they shared a room in their parents' house. Maybe it's inevitable: distance between siblings. Maybe there's summat nauseatingly father-like in my attempt to keep Cece close—not keep, pull.

It's laughable to describe Cece and I as "close". Though things are so much better between us now than two years ago, even a year ago—hell, a few months, I dunno if I'll ever get them to really trust me again. Not the way he used to.

When we lived with our parents, we shared a room too, though in a way it felt like a studio flat. The rest of the house belonged to someone else, Mamá and Papá odd neighbours you barely see in the corridor when you're throwing the rubbish. Even after we went into care and they split us up, I used to go visit him all the time. Shayna bought them a cell phone so I could call regularly without his foster parents complaining that they hog up the phone or drive the bills up too high.

But as time passed, my visits became less and less frequent. There was always summat more important at school.

Though I found the time to go to parties and the club and date and fuck, fat load of good owt of that did.

Fun fact: Plants will compete with others of the same species but be accommodating to those grown out of seeds from the same parent. Family love is found everywhere. Even plants are better at it than me.