Strawberries & Cigarettes

Chapter Three

He was here today; she was sure of it. She felt his eyes trailed on the back of her head as she rushed to her locker to get her lunch. Not making any stops to gather her imaginary friends, she walks towards her usual spot, underneath the big oak tree. Sitting down on the crunchy grass, she barely opens her lunchbag and catches a glimpse of her turkey sandwich before she feels a presence. Looking up, her hazel eyes meet steely gray ones.

            He looks the same as always with his heavily tattooed arms and ratty t-shirt. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and the dark circles underneath them revealed his mild case of insomnia. Diverting his gaze, he looks at the ground with a furrowed brow for a moment as if he was thinking of what to say next. Looking back at her eyes, he speaks.

            “Moet.” The name rolls off of his tongue in a surprisingly smooth tone. Moet doesn’t answer. She knows what he’s come to ask.

            “Have you heard anything… new about Dakota?” He asks. She couldn’t tell him she saw her last night; it’d drive him crazy. And Dakota made it clear many times before that she didn’t want to be found. Why couldn’t he understand that?

            Slowly, Moet shakes her head. “Sorry… Quinn.” She says quietly. Quinn closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and rubs his face with his hand. Afterwards, he sends Moet a shaky half-smile. The repressed emotion behind that one gesture broke her heart. Yet, she had to keep her promise to Dakota. She was her sister, after all.

            “It’s okay. I should’ve expected this… But God, Moet, it’s been nearly two months… Are you sure you don’t know where she is? She hasn’t talked to you at all?” Quinn asks again in a slightly less platonic tone, but she could see the desperate gleam of hope shining in his eyes.

            Moet shakes her head again. “No,” she lies. “I’m sorry.”

            He closes his eyes and walks away.   

            Looking up at the clock, Leighton sees that it’s six o’ clock. “Ella,” he calls towards the stairwell. “What do you want to eat?” It’s silent for a few moments before the sound of a door creaking open and footsteps are heard. Ella climbs down the steps and faces her brother. She shrugs indifferently. Leighton runs through his mental list of restaurants within a ten-minute radius of their home. Remembering this old diner a couple blocks away, Leighton grabs his car keys and heads toward the front door with Ella following behind. Once outside, he’s about to get into the car when Ella nudges him in the shoulder.

            “Look,” she says softly, staring over his right shoulder. Looking up, Leighton sees a slight girl with corn silk blond hair walking down the sidewalk about ten feet from their house. She was clothed in sweats and had her pale hair coiled in a bun high on her head and carried a workout bag with the words Lily Holmes Dance Studios written on it. He recognized the place; it was miles away! His conscience would most definitely nag at him if he let a teenage girl walk that far alone at night. Suddenly realizing she was being gawked at, the girl raised her head and glanced at them with wide eyes. Then she lowered her gaze to the ground, softly murmured a “hello” and kept on walking. When she walked past their driveway, Ella nudged her brother again giving him a pointed stare.

            “Hey.” Leighton called out, realizing that he didn’t know her name. Fortunately, the girl stopped walking and glanced back with a surprised expression on her face.

            With a voice as soft as a mouse’s squeak, she replied, “Hello.”

            “Where are you going?” Leighton asked, although it probably was obvious with her attire and the address printed on her workout bag. Wordlessly, she pointed to her bag. “Would you like a ride there? My little sister and I were heading out anyways.” The girl looked unsure for a second, glancing ahead of her and then back. Making her decision, she nodded shyly. Leighton gestured for her to get into the car and she did so in one graceful movement. After starting up the car, he backed out of the driveway and onto the street.

            The ride there was quiet. However, Leighton sensed that the girl was most accustomed to the quiet, judging by her naturally hushed tone of voice. Ella didn’t talk much lately either. It was probably due to her changing hormones or something. Once the trio got to their destination, the girl quietly breathed, “Thank you,” before climbing out of the car.

            “Wait,” Leighton said. The girl paused, one of her legs already touching the pavement. “What’s your name?”

            She looked down for a moment, then looked back up, replying, “Moet,” before maneuvering the rest of her body out of the car.

            Moet, Leighton thought. Moet.

            Practice was dreadful as always. No matter how hard Moet tried, she couldn’t get the lift right. She’d lose her balance and fall on top of poor Mark. At least her mother drove her home, unlike last time. It was quite a lengthy walk back.

            Opening the door to her room, she sees Dakota lying on her bed with the music box lying on her stomach. She kept flicking the dancing ballerina in the center, making it bounce back and forth because of its attached spring. Shocked, Moet stands at the door for a moment, dead silent. She was afraid she was hallucinating or something. Wasn’t Dakota still mad at her? Why would she come back? After a while, Moet’s sister’s blue eyes flicked casually from the music box to the door and widened when she saw Moet standing there, staring. Giving a nervous smile, she greeted her with a, “Hi.”

            Moet noticed that Dakota was wearing the same black miniskirt and low-cut top as she wore yesterday and that the room stunk of cigarettes. But she didn’t care. She had her sister back. As soon as Dakota rolled off the bed and stood on her feet, Moet flung herself across the room and wrapped her arms around her waist. Laughing, Dakota stroke Moet’s hair and said, “I missed you too, little sis.” After a few moments more of hugging, Moet reluctantly let go and sat on her desk chair, facing Dakota. Dakota retreated back to the bed and faced her. With a bright smile on her face, she said, “So, how did school go?”

            It was an innocent question, one that Moet never really had much of an answer too, but if it meant keeping her sister in good spirits, she’d make up as much teen drama as she needed to. But once she thought of school, she thought of her confrontation with a certain dark-headed boy. And then her smile fell a little.

            I could just keep it to myself. She never has to know.

But she deserves to know.

But it will make her upset. And I hate it when she’s upset with me.

If you keep it from her, she’s going to be even madder.

Moet knew her conscience was right. So with a deep breath, she said, “Quinn asked about you today.” For a second, Dakota’s smile was frozen on her face. Then once the words registered in her mind, her smile suddenly disappeared without a trace. Her head slowly turned to the side and Moet could see her lip trembling. Biting her lip, Dakota turned to face Moet again with a wobbly smile.

“How is he?” She asked, her voice sounding off.

“The same as always,” Moet replied honestly. The two sit in the quiet for a moment before Moet speaks again. “He worries about you, Dakota. He just wants to know that you’re okay. Can’t I at least tell him that?”

Dakota’s head whips around. In the moonlight, Moet can see the shine of tears running down her cheeks. “No. You can’t tell him anything. You have to promise me you won’t tell him, promise me.”

Moet lowers her head and nods obediently. She could never go against Dakota. Sisters didn’t do that.

“Hey,” Dakota says in a softer tone. Moet looks back up. “Don’t ever feel bad about keeping my secret, okay? It’s just… I don’t ever want Quinn to ever see me like this.” Wordlessly, she nods again. “Well, I have to go now. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” Moet replies. She watches as her sister makes her way to the bedroom window and disappears without a backwards glance.