Chapter 3: Faye

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CHAPTER 3: FAYE

“Well, aren’t they idiots!” Kayla promptly walked out of the bathroom, just as I closed the door behind Jaybee.

“Oh, you’re still here? I thought our bathroom secretly led to Narnia.”

“Oh please. I was eavesdropping.”

“How subtle.”

“Your friend is cute.”

“Hate to break it to you; he has a girlfriend.” I sat down on the floor to open my luggage.

He’s into you.

I frowned at her. “No,” and then I quickly changed the subject, “So, would you like Lucky Charms for dinner, or a couple of squashed muffins? Or perhaps I could interest you in some Pot Noodles,” I said as I got the mentioned items out of my luggage. Food is always a priority. That was the number one rule.

“But what is Lucky Charms without any milk?” she moaned, as she sat down on the sofa.

“Oh quit your moaning ... Oh hey! I also packed an endless supply of mint chocolates. I’m brilliant.”

“And modest.”

“Always.” I slumped down into the seat next to her, putting my arm through hers.

“I imagine Jolle was one of those kids who were always stuck in detention.”

Her sudden comment made me laugh. “You don’t say.”

She smiled at me and then rested her head on my shoulder.

“Are you happy?” Kayla’s question took me by surprise, but I understood what she meant.

“I don’t know ... We only just got here. We’ll see.”

She nodded.

“What about you?”

“Anything is better than where I was,” she shrugged.

I gave her a sympathetic smile.

“I think I’ll take the Lucky Charms,” she decided, “although we don’t have any milk and,” she gave a dramatic sigh, “it won’t be the same without it.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

She patted my thigh, “And before that; I’m off to choose the better bedroom.”

I sat up quickly. “Oh no, you’re not!" Then we were off to pick the better bedroom – and by this, I mean we basically ran-shoved each other to choose the better one. Just like seven year olds, yes.

* * *

I opened my eyes the following morning to the sound of my phone ringing. It took a moment to familiarise with where I was, but then I remembered; I was in Sweden.

I propped myself up, yawning, and then reached out for my phone.

I frowned at the screen. Why the hell was Jaybee calling me at eight in the morning? is what I wanted to know.

“I have no idea why you’re calling me at this mental hour, but it better be good.” My voice was raspy from sleep as I answered his call.

“Good morning, sunshine! I’m at the door,” he said in a cheerful voice.

Are you shitting me? I don’t know about your clock, but it’s 8A.M.”

“Nope, I’m not. And yes, it is,” he said casually.

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