the wild week

02. jone

anya and florence are walking on the trail before me, sid groaning behind me. he offered to carry florence's and anya's bags for some reason, which he obviously regrets now.
i don't understand why he has to prove himself so much all the time. florence and anya already likes him — well, at least florence does. i don't know what anya likes — sometimes she looks at florence like she is her only light and sometimes she looks like she'd want to puke.
i don't think she's realizing her facial expressions mirrors her emotions so well. i don't think she's very aware of many things at all.
sometimes i can shoot a glance at her at hangouts when she thinks i'm not looking, and she looks all logged off.
maybe that shield is loosing up a little when we're out here. basing on what i've seen and heard of it already, it seems like it.
'hey sid, want some help?' i say.
sid mumbles something, probably a curse. 'fuck no,' he says a little louder.
'call me if you need it though.'
i hate when people sound mad at me. and i know it makes me sound like a 5-year old, but that one mean undertone just makes my stomach knot. even if it's one of my best friends, and even if it's not even meant for me.
i guess i'm just weak.
'hey, cece!' i hear anya's low voice call out. 'wait for me!'
'come get me!' florence replies tauntingly. she's feet before her best friend, apparently not letting her catch up.
anya sighs, her expression tired. florence jogs away to the front, sid sighs from the back. that's short on the dynamic of our odd squad.
i should go talk to anya. try to cheer her up — maybe she won't shoot me one of those disappointed faces again. i ball the thought with myself for a couple of seconds, then walk up to her.
'hey anya!' i call.
she waits for me to catch up, shoots me a flash of a smile.
'florence can be a bit of a bitch sometimes,' i say.
'no, it's just...' she's quiet for a bit. 'i mean... technically? yes.'
i snicker. 'and emotionally?'
suddenly the shield is up again.
'i'm not going to shit talk my friend with you,' she says, voice harsh. 'i barely know you.'
and there's a glimpse of this panicked and regretful expression. 'i'm sorry,' she says. 'i don't know what's going on with my relationship with cece. i just don't think you can help me.'
'i can be your new best-friend-forever,' i say, only 75 percent joking.
she laughs. 'yeah. maybe that.'