little bird // r.keene

vi. quiet afternoons.

"Thank you very much, ma'am." Mr James told the woman on the other side of the counter, a small smile painted on his face in a warm friendly manner, an expression he wore 90% of the time. "Have a great afternoon!" He beamed and the woman thanked him before leaving the shop.

It was a quiet afternoon, so he had told Wren to get some rest which she didn't object to. He may have been old and his eye sight a little weary, but he wasn't blind and could see the small shadows growing under her eyes. And it wasn't just that either- it had been two weeks now since the fight at the school and she had only left the shop a small handful of times.

Her face was becoming more angular, though he never found the courage to point it out and persuade her to eat more. He knew she wasn't going to school anymore, not since the fight- though she had told him she was keeping up with her classes online- and so he assumed she spent all her time upstairs reading.

In her own little world in her own little space.

And considering all that she had been through, Mr James knew there was little he could do and so he left her to her own devices. He knew well enough that she wouldn't open up until she was ready and until that day came, which he prayed was soon, he would wait patiently if that was what she needed.

The bell above the door jingled and Mr James looked up to see a small girl with brown hair enter the shop. She looked oddly familiar but Mr James couldn't quite place her, a peculiar thing for him since he was normally extremely good with faces.

The girl looked around and then fixed her eyes on the old man behind the counter and strode over to him with an aura of confidence which told him she had a purpose in his shop that day. "Hi, Mr James, my name is Sam, we met at Valley Fest a few months back- sorry I don't know if you remember me. You spoke with my dad and Robby Keene." Sam spoke softly with an awkward smile, hoping the man would recall.

Mr James was taken aback slightly, casting his mind back and finding the memory perfectly untouched and clear. He was ashamed he hadn't remembered her face, though the young girl hadn't done much talking in their encounter.

"Yes, of course!" He exclaimed, maybe a little too loudly, making Sam jump ever so slightly, "Sorry my dear, I saw you come in and I knew I knew your face from somewhere." Sam gave him a small laugh at that, "I suppose it is just my age catching up with me, what can I do for you Sam?" He asked kindly, pressing his palms flat on the counter in front of him, preparing himself for anything she might need. A habit for all his customers.

"I'm actually looking for Wren, is she here?" Sam asked and Mr James threw a quick glance up the stairs behind the counter, the door was shut, just like always.

Mr James licked his lips before turning his head back to Sam, assuming they knew each other from school.

And they did. Just not in the way he thought.

Mr James didn't know about their rivalry. Or the fight at the mall. Or about Sam cheating on Robby. Or about the Medal of Honour. He didn't know Wren hated Sam... But how could he? It wasn't his fault.

"She's behind the door at the top of the stairs, I would show you up but between you and me, she doesn't like any adults up there. Make sure you knock firmly and she answers before opening." He told her, though Sam noticed his smile falter for a split moment, "She's had a hard time because of that nasty fight at the school, I'm sure you've heard, I'm positive she could use a friend right now..." Mr James explained but it was futile...

His words:

She's had a hard time.

Sent Sam's teeth on edge.

"Thank you, Mr James." Sam said curtly before turning towards the stairs and beginning to make her way up.

At first, Sam hadn't even been sure she had the right place, after all, she had been very drunk and very hungover the last time she was there. Her only memory was Robby waking her up in an unknown bed in an unknown place and when she came downstairs her dad looked like he was about to burn the place down.

Sam took a deep breath when she reached the door. She knew this was a bad idea, but she had to ask what Wren knew.

Sam had to know if Wren knew where Robby was.

Wren had been sat on the bed with a book in hand, leaning against the wall, whilst Robby lay beside her, his head on her lap as she read to him with her hand playing with the strands of his new short hair.

It had been nice, her reading out loud to him, it was as if he had found a natural drug for all his panics and worries, anxiety and anger at himself for what happened to Miguel. It was her voice, it was Wren.

Wren hadn't argued when he asked her to read to him:

"Can you read to me, please?" He had asked suddenly, sitting on the bed beside her, she had already had a book propped open on her lap, nursing a mug of tea in the other hand.

"Sure, why do you ask?" She agreed but wondered, she had offered to read to him before in order to help him sleep. But in truth, Robby had often declined because he often felt like he was overstepping by hiding out in her home the way he was. By invading. By taking over her safe space.

But little did he know, it wasn't just the place that made Wren feel safe.

It was also the knowledge that despite his wrongdoings, that despite his mistakes, Robby was here. He wasn't out there living on the streets or hiding in an alley, or on the run. He was here and he was safe.

"Because you go somewhere else when you read." Robby answered her, lying down beside her, and curling into her side lovingly, "I want to go there with you."

So Wren complied.

Robby allowed his eyes to drift shut with the feeling of her hands in his hair and her voice in his head.

However, this tranquillity was short-lived when there was a curt knock at the door, the pair froze, Wren stopped reading and Robby's eyes shot open in a heartbeat. He pushed himself upright and Wren shut the book without even folding the corner of the page.

They waited for a voice to call out from the other side. It couldn't have been Mr James, he never came up here. Which means, whoever it was, wasn't a friend to Wren.

Which also meant they were about to get caught.