"And I'll put that in the you-really-don't-need-to-take-this pile" Cleo said as she chucked another of my books onto the slowly growing pile. I growled slightly as she did so.
"Seriously, what is up with you?" she said, one of her perfect eyebrows raised. "You never growl. Ever" I could see the concern in her pretty hazel eyes but I honestly didn't know why I growled. She was right, I never growled.
"I don't know" I sighed, "I don't like how you treat my books?" The statement came out as more of a question and she gave me one of her looks, "Fine, it's not that. But I can honestly tell you I don't know what it is." I lowered my eyes to look at the chipped, midnight blue nail varnish that seemed to constantly occupy my nails.
After a while, Cleo sighed and stood up. "All this packing is stressful, lets get some hot chocolate!" I smiled at her and stood up. She always knows how to make me feel better.
Plus we weren't moving into our flat for another week and, in our excitement, we packed almost everything in about three days. See, neither of us really wanted to stay at home. Her dad didn't know how to look after her and often left her on her own.
At first she found it fun but now she basically lives with me. And my four brothers. So, yeah, you guessed it. I wanted to move because I have four brothers. They are lovely and all but... one brother would be bad enough! Cleo, thought it was brilliant because she is an only child and she gets on with them better than I do! That's probably just because she's gorgeous and as my brothers are boys, they love her.
"Two hot chocolates, please" Cleo said, with a dazzling smile on her face. The barista took one look at her and said "It's on me, beautiful" See, I wasn't exaggerating when I said she was beautiful! "Thank you. But here, take this" she handed him a fiver and went to sit down. And yeah, that's right. She's modest too!
"Honestly, you're too perfect" I say, with a mock frown on my face. She hates it when people tell her that because she doesn't believe me.
"Honestly Katarina you're way more beautiful than me! With your wavy black hair. And your eyes! I've just got boring, flat hair and my eyes are only one colour!" she exclaimed. I did love my eyes, one was a beautiful bright green and the other was a deep, icy blue. The same blue as my brother's. Other than that though I didn't like how I looked.
Cleo always claimed I looked like a foreign godess. I had no idea what that meant, apart from the foreign part. I am after all Italian. Though that's no good to me as I don't speak a word of it.
"Are you kidding me?" I said, disbelieving. "Have you seen yourself? You're tall and curvy. I'm just short and skinny! And you can do whatever you want with your hair and it will look nice. Mine just looks stupid, and I can't do makeup. When I want to do something nice I put a bit of mascara on!"
Before she could say any more on the matter the barista came and put our hot chocolates in front of us.
"Here you go beautiful" he said and winked at Cleo. He didn't even look at me but it didn't bother me, I was used to it.
"I don't like all this attention!" she wimpered, looking down at yet another phone number on her napkin.
"Well, it never happens to me. If I was you, I would feel honoured!" I put my hand over my heart and held my chin high.
At this we just burst out laughing and forgot all about our frequent debate. We both knew the other wouldn't relent, but we both thought we were right anyway.
A few hours later we made our way back to my house to carry on packing. We were laughing and smiling, like we always did.
All of a sudden though, Cleo stopped laughing and serious, almost pained look, crossed her face. "I have to get home!" she looked at the time, worried. "My dad was expecting me back an hour ago"
We both knew what that meant.
Cleo was abused. There was no other way to put it.
Every time she didn't something to even slightly displeased her father, he would yank on her hair and shout in her face, and that's on the best of days.
One particularly drunken Wednesday ended in Cleo standing on my door. A mixture of sweat, blood and tears running down her face and matting her hair. The skin around her eye promising a bruise and her beautiful hazel eyes dulled to a saddened and tear filled brown.
She fell asleep curled against me, whimpering in her sleep and fidgeting as if fighting something off. The next morning I had to cover her bruise in layers of concealer and powder.
By the look on her face it was obvious we were both reliving the same memory. Or, maybe in her case, something equally as scarring.
And that look on her face and the memory in my mind made for my next decision.
"I'm coming with" I stated.
She knew there wasn't much to argue but nevertheless she gave me a look. "You are not! It's too dangerous, remember that time he hit you too?"
I did, it was painful and I hadn't returned since. But the memory of that made my resolve to keep her safe stronger.
"I do, but together we can fight him off! I won't let you do this alone" and with that I stomped forward, feeling Cleo only a couple steps behind me.
Like she said many times, what I lack in size I make up in attitude.
