I Thought It Was Over

Chapter 17 - Again

Chapter 17 – Again

A/N: Looking at the outfits, I realized that Clio and Mia are dressed nicely, you know cute tops and patterns with great shoes, and Becky’s just rocking a T-shirt and jeans with ratty looking shoes… oh well, that is what I would wear anyway.

Back at the safe house, Clio burst into tears.

“Li?” She held up her index finger to say Wait and continued crying; then suddenly she stopped.

“Whew,” she said. “That was crazy!”

“No really,” I replied.

“So, what now?” Mia asked.

“We are moving. I’ll text someone tonight.”

“No thanks,” Clio said. Huh? “I’ve got somewhere you can drop me off,” she continued. “I don’t think staying here will be a good idea. Don’t you remember back in Year 9? We wouldn’t be able to cope with that now!”

“Clio, I told you everything! I shouldn’t have, but I did, because I thought you would be staying, and I trusted you!”

“Well, it’s not my fault,” she snapped.

“That’s what you said in Year 9! And you didn’t even believe the doctor when he said that yes, my arm was broken because somebody had snapped it when they were trying to prove they were strong.”

“Oh my God, get over it already! That was three years ago!”

“Yeah, and it hurt! I forgave you but guess what? I can only operate a gun for two years tops before it’ll have another stress fracture! I might never be able to make a bomb again, never murder someone with my bare hands, never paint a freaking wall!”

“Woah Becky, that escalated really quickly. Clio just asked if she could go home,” Mia said.

“I know. But it was her that brought Year 9 up! I trusted her, and now? I don’t know if I can. I want her to stay because she’s my friend, but also because now I don’t know if I can trust her to keep my secrets! This is the most important thing in my life, it’s what the girls and Mia’s lives depend on! If you tell anyone, I can’t forgive you. I didn’t even yell too much when you broke my arm! I want you stay Clio. But I agree. Maybe we can’t not fight. Mia, I have no idea how we have lasted this long. And as a member of the FBI, I can’t let her go on the grounds that she knows too much.”

“But as a friend?” Mia prompted.

“I want you to stay,” I said.

“Becky, what the heck?” Mia asked.

“I want her to stay,” I whispered.

“Are you freaking bipolar?”  

Nope, just on my period.

In the kitchen, I sank down into a chair and thought. Then I stopped, because it hurt.

I remembered everything; it was coming back to me in flashbacks, in echoes and snippets.

I had flashbacks to the screaming, to the blood… to Clio crying and people saying I had overreacted.

Feeling terrible, I dried the tears I hadn’t noticed were coming and stood up.

I was naïve. I am still naïve. I had been dreaming, hoping against all the facts that finally we were over the fights. Turns out I was wrong.

But I was also older, wiser and more mature than when I was thirteen. I could talk it out now.

I could try at least.

Pouring three glasses of water, I started carrying them through to the lounge room, where we had been yelling.

“Clio? Where’s Mia?”

“Packing,” she whispered.  

“What?”

“Packing. She’s done.”

I ran to Mia’s room, where she was sitting on the bed, almost crying. Tears were dripping down her face, but she was just gazing around the room, not properly sobbing.

“Looks like someone’s on their period,” I said.

She looked up at me, blinking back tears but with no expression. “If I am, that means you are too.”

I shrugged. “You got me.” Sitting down, I brought my knees up to my chin.

I sighed.

Looking at Mia, I knew something was wrong. I put my arm around her and she leaned in towards me. As I hugged her, racking sobs shook her small body.

“Mia, sh,” I whispered, stroking her hair. Clio, Lil and Ella appeared in the doorway. Seeing us, they joined the hug, until it was just a pile on the bed. Somebody got their hand free and started tickling. Others join in, fighting the urge to laugh. Finally Mia giggled, and that set the rest of us off.

The next hour was pillow fights, screaming and of course, throwing things into the cranky person’s pool.

Because we’re nice like that.