Somewhere To Begin | ✓

ii. christmas day

C H R I S T M A S D A Y

[24th December 2017, 3:15 p.m. The Christmas Market.]

Leo was sixty percent sure that both he and Clara, two perfectly sensible teenagers, had been duped by a six year old.

He became ninety percent sure he had been duped when the kid – fine, Mallory, as she so liked to remind him—managed to bully the last of his pocket money out of him for a toy bear that was on sale at one of the market stalls.

"You shouldn't have," Clara murmured into his ear as they both, rather grimly, watched the child happily chatter away to the bear like she had just discovered better company to be around.

"I know," Leo replied wearily. "But she's so...so..."

"Persistent?" Clara offered, biting down a giggle.

"That's an awfully nice way to put it, but sure."

They both had to follow quickly after her, having to apologise quickly as they weaved clumsily past throngs of families, because apparently the kid could walk fast enough to merit a participation in the next race-walking Olympics. The Christmas Market itself became had become exponentially busier by the hour and Leo feared that, at the rate they were going, it'd be almost impossible to track down Mallory's parents. It also didn't help that neither he nor Clara had the faintest idea what they looked like and, as mouthy as Mallory was, the kid's description of her mum and dad had been oddly sparse and unhelpful. Which bumped up Leo's scepticism about this entire mission to ninety-five percent.

"Mal—hey, slow down, Mallory!" Clara gasped after her while Leo, a few feet behind her, frantically apologised to a disgruntled old couple he'd very nearly knocked over in his hurry to keep up with the other two.

"M-Merry Christmas!" he concluded to the pair of them, two spots of colour high on his cheeks, before hurriedly rushing after Clara. He spotted her standing in front of Mallory with one finger pointed at the scowling child's face and tread swiftly towards them.

"I was only having fun," Mallory was heard saying very defensively when he got within earshot of them. Clara's eyes found his and Leo didn't think he'd ever seen her look so utterly livid.

He opened his mouth to ask the customary 'What's wrong now?' but Clara quickly answered for him.

"She wasn't lost, she ran away from them!" she burst out angrily, throwing another dirty look at Mallory who was, as ever, unperturbed. "Like, actually, just walked off on her own! On purpose!"

Leo could only gape. "B-but – does that mean...are they even here?"

"I don't bloody know, do I?" Clara threw her hands up in the air and groaned loudly. When her hands fell back to their sides, she glanced at Leo again and noticed his woebegone expression. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, the guilt replacing her crinkled frown. "It's pretty much my fault we're here. I shouldn't yell at you."

Truth to be told, Leo secretly agreed that it was—only mostly—Clara's fault that they were in this mess. It was starting to get very cold and he could feel the effects of it beginning to nip at his fingers. And he was also very, very hungry. And he needed to pee, although that could wait a little while longer.

But there was something in Clara's expression that superseded all personal ill-feelings and discomfort. Something sad and miserable Leo had only ever seen in fleeting moments over the years, something he had pondered over at times and wanted to ask about, only he hadn't had the courage to ask such personal questions.