Renegade

9. Carter

"Please just try to be nice to her."

"No way. I'm not even going on this stupid mission."

"You have to. It won't be that bad. I'll be there."

"Oh yeah, because that'll make all the difference."

Rachel sighed, rolling her eyes and running her fingers through her hair. "Carter, please just try to be nice to her. You don't really know her, maybe you'll change your mind about her if you did."

"Are you asking me to befriend the girl who faked a pregnancy to keep a guy?"

"I know how it sounds-"

"I don't think you do."

Rachel clenched her jaw, making fists before slowly reopening her hands. "We have to spend some time with her because of this mission, okay? Just give her a chance. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you."

Rachel's words ran through my mind as Quinn handed Rachel and I trash bags, telling us to search rooms for toilet paper. Rachel and I roamed the house, awestruck by the size of it. For being in the apocalypse, the house was in fairly good shape. A layer of dust had settled over most of the house, spiders and other small creatures finding their way into the house to find their own home. Besides the small imperfections caused by the house being abandoned, it was still in pristine condition.

"Look at this room." Rachel practically cooed. The family room had three large couches, a glass coffee table, and the largest flat screen TV I had ever seen. My eyes widened as I took it all in.

"Imagine growing up here," I murmured.

Rachel shook her head. "I can't."

We went into the kitchen, opening the pantry doors. One of the shelves has paper covering it, most of them medical bills. I picked up the thick dark green folder at the end of the shelf, opening it and taking it to the kitchen table.

"What are you doing?"

"She said she had cancer, but she didn't say what kind."

"Carter!" Rachel chastised, approaching the table. "It's not polite to snoop." I ignored my sister, reading the paperwork in front of me. Rachel grew bored of watching me, walking into the living room and returning with a photo album. She flipped threw it lazily, looking at the pictures of Quinn and her parents from Before.

"Now who's snooping?" I mumbled, but Rachel didn't respond. We sat in silence, doing our own research on Quinn's life Before. I skimmed through multiple pages before I found what Quinn had suffered from.

Papillary thyroid cancer.

"Your sister is sick," a seemingly nice enough lady in a black suit and a tight bun told a young Rachel and me. "Her butterfly is very sick. We think it would be wise to remove her from this foster home and take her somewhere where she'll be with kids like her, and people who can help her."

"Rachel," I whispered, suddenly wary of the fact that Quinn could hear us. "Her butterfly was sick."

"Just like-"

"Zoey."

Rachel stared at me for a moment before shaking her head slowly, looking back at the photo album. I put the papers back in the cabinet, feeling slightly guilty for looking through Quinn's things.

"Come look at this," Rachel said, her smile evident in her voice. "Quinn was such a cute baby."

Although Quinn's house was ridiculously big, being there made her more of a person to me. She was no longer just a snobby privileged girl- although she was a snobby privileged girl- but a girl, who, just like Rachel and I, had had enough heartbreak to last a life time. I shut the cabinet quietly, walking back to the table to peer over Rachel's shoulder at the pictures of Quinn on her fourth birthday. The way Quinn's brown hair curled, her small, dimpled smile- it was all painfully familiar. Before I could place it, a scream sounded from upstairs, and Rachel and I were gone, running up the stairs before we could process whether or not was a good idea.