The Runaways

The Runaways: Chapter 22: Cathlina

Trenton and I left the cafeteria and headed to my room. Well, now we are sitting in the chairs in my room. One of them is my desk chair, and the other is a beanbag chair Siana got me for my birthday last year.

I still miss Siana. I've never gone a day without her near me. Even on my watches, she waited just inside the shelter until I came back.

“Trenton, I need to ask you something,” I tell him urgently.

He nods. “Yeah?” His expression seems hopeful for something.

“Whoa. Nothing to get excited about,” I say. “All I wanted to ask was if you could come on my watches with me. Just so I don't feel as lonely. I mean, with Siana gone.”

He relaxes more in the desk chair. “Oh. Sure. I don't mind. My watches are always boring anyways. I need to to ask before we are set on it.”

I'm confused. “Ask who?”

His face resembles mine for a second, but he adds, “Oh. Never mind. I forgot about that.”

“So, you'll do watches with me, right? And, help me schedule them?” I ask yet again.

The look of confusion stumbles across his face. “Scheduling? You never said anything about that.”

“I know I didn't. I just figured that you would be okay with helping me. I kinda have a big job that I can't mess up. I need a little help sometimes,” I explain to him.

Trent nodded. “Yeah, but, I don't know how well I can schedule things. If you haven't noticed, I'm really disorganized. I will probably mess everything up.”

I sit forward in my beanbag chair. “Nah. You won't mess anything up. I think that I will do better if you are helping me. We've always made a pretty good team. Why should this be different?” I point out.

Trenton runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “I don't know. It isn't the same.”

I'm not sure what he means by that. “What isn't the same? Me?”

He shakes his head. “Everything. Ever since this morning I've felt disconnected from everything. When you forgot my name, I didn't know what to think. We don't talk as often as we used to.”

“Why do you think that?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I don't know. When was the last time we had an actual conversation?”

The truth is, I can't remember the last time we talked. The morning was the only one in weeks.

I chuckle. “It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“Yeah. And I think it's affecting our friendship,” he adds, but his eyes have an unsettling glint to them. I think I should be taking this more seriously.

“How?” I ask. There's something Trenton isn't telling me.

I can tell what he's about to say is hard to tell me. He grasps the arms of his chair and puffs his cheeks full of air. His knee bounces up and down like it does when he's nervous. I brace myself for whatever he's going to say.

“Trenton, it can't be too bad. I promise you, it will not hurt my feelings. You can tell me anything,” I try to reassure him.

He releases the air from his mouth. His fingers unclench the chair's arms. His knee stills. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. What could possibly be this hard to tell me?

“This morning in the cafeteria,” he says, like that's supposed to answer my question.

“What about it?” I ask. He's going to make this way worse than it actually is. “Trenton, it sounds like you are trying to dodge my question.”

“No, I just don't know how to phrase it. I don't want you to get mad at me if I say it the wrong way. I want you to accept how I feel,” he says.

“You're making me mad now by not answering. Would you just tell me?” I yell. This conversation is hurting our friendship worse than whatever he needs to tell me.

He says, “I realized it in the cafeteria. That you are beautiful, and I think I love you. I really didn't plan on this. It was just a sudden change in my thoughts.”

I think my heart stops and I stop breathing until he says, “I knew that I shouldn't have told you! I should leave so you don't see me.”

He gets up to leave the room, but I say, “Don't leave. I want to know more.”

My shock subsides. He sits back down in his chair, but he looks terrified of me.

“Know more about what?” Trenton asks shakily.

“More about why you are in love with me. You have to have some reason for why.”

His eyes scan my room, like he's trying to find the answer written on the walls. Why does he keep avoiding my questions? He should know that he will have to tell me even if it means I have to pin him down and force him to tell me. He's getting dangerously close to that.

I'm about to get up, but he says, “I don't know. All I know is that I want to be with you and protect you.”

That isn't exactly what I want to hear. “How do I know that you aren't lying? You could be just avoiding the truth. A lot of people do that.”

He shakes his head. “I really don't know. You've known me long enough to tell that I'm not lying.”

He's right. I know he isn't lying. He truly, honestly doesn't know. But he tried to kiss me. Wouldn't he know why he would want to do that?

“You aren't lying, okay? I don't like you the same way, though. You're my friend. Nothing should change,” I say. “I don't want it to change.”

His eyes scan the floor. They lock onto something near the garbage can. “What's that?” he asks as he reaches over to grab it. It's the comic I made before Jedda attacked me.

“Oh, no, that's nothing. It's stupid,” I tell him. He unfolds the piece of paper despite my warning. He begins to read it.

I'm terrified of how mad he's going to be. He won't like how I make him act in the comic. He's way meaner in the comic.

While he reads it, his eyes narrow further and further. I think he's mad at me.

“Cathlina. . .”

“No,” I stop him, “I'm sorry. I was just so mad and confused, that I wasn't thinking about how this would make you feel. I didn't want you to kiss me. I was actually on my way to talk to you when Jedda attacked me.”

“Really? I was looking for you in the cafeteria when Jedda captured me. I wanted to apologize for scaring you. And, I was going to say sorry.”

I laugh lightly. “Then go ahead.”

He rolls his eyes. “You're funny. But, I am sorry for doing that to you. I didn't mean to make you mad.”

“Well, don't do it again. I don't like being mad, and you don't like being around me when I'm mad.”

“True,” he says.

A knock comes from my door, and I cross my fingers that it isn't Jedda again.