(Spin-off of Imaginary, more so specifically it's second book, Severity)
Cleo Vexer, a problematic teenage girl, is the sensation of your average pessimist and mediocre criminal. Still having to survive the rest of her senior year bitter and lonely...
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Like always on the early morning, I drop my bag by my feet and slid into the seat beside Caslon.
Though today, his hair is disheveled and his eyes have the fade of a tinted red. As I could've predicted. My heartbeat quickens; I want to tell him.
But I know that I won't.
A small smile crinkles upon my face as I stare off at him. "I'm sorry I couldn't find her, Caslon, you must've gotten no sleep last night."
Caslon shakes his head weakly and sighs. "Don't say that; it's not your fault."
Oh, but it is.
"Okay," I whisper. I don't know what else to say.
It's silent for a while. I feel like between the both of us, there's not much we want to say to each other anymore. We've grown tired of it at the moment.
"You finally have nothing else to say, Vex?" Caslon quirks an eyebrow, even in his worst of times. Though I can just see the tiredness pooling out of him.
I shrug simply. "There's not much else to say."
I'm not fully facing him, but through my peripheral I can see his smile slowly fade. I guess he was expecting something else, and now that it's not here in this very moment, there's nothing more to smile for. The mood is underwhelming.
I face towards him, a soft smile at the edges of my lips. A comforting look starting to mask of this desperation to fix it. "I know this is a hard time for you, and I know I've never been the nicest, but just know I'll do everything in my power to help. I want her back as much as you do, Caslon."
"Thanks I guess," His muttered voice barely clear like a puddle of murky rain. "But don't worry your head off, Cleo. This is a matter your not accountable for, even if you disagree."
I nod my head understandingly, almost defeated, head hung low so my hair can hide the guilt away. Everything aligning to the alleged absence of Riley was perplexing, so much my head would implode. Caslon can't help but sound so genuine and vulnerable, though Riley twists the story like he's some counterfeit. I don't know who I would trust more; a claimed villain, or the supposed victim. It was like my world was starting to revolve around the Allway story, like it was easy to slip out of mine. To put it simple, it was like a collection of stories told by the same narrator.
Hours to the dawning of my return home, Riley was sprawled on the couch just like she had been in the morning. I knew she wouldn't travel, not that it seemed she wanted to. Of course, Riley was still old enough to know how to function without complete loss, knowing to look in the pantry when hungry or grabbing a book from the living room shelf when bored. I had question her about skipping school, but she said that'd make this journey slip soon. Wish she wasn't wrong there, but then again, she wasn't right at all to begin with. And neither was I for being her outlet to a secret and a shelter.
I slip my shoes off by the door while tossing my bag and keys on the carpet.
"How've you been holding up, Riley?" I ask as I make my way to the chair beside the couch she was bent upon.
In her hands was Stargirl, my holy grail novel in the seventh grade. It was assigned in Language Arts class and was commonly seen as one of the few lovable books middle school had to offer. The message was easy to convey though simple but powerful in what it was.
Riley's eyes peeks up childishly, the front and back cover of the book under her bottom eyelashes. If she had pigtails and colorful bows in her hair with a pastel dress, then I would pass her off as a child in a cliché decades movie.
"Perfectly," She lowers the book, a close-lipped smile graces her face.
I return the smile effortlessly, pulling out my binder to work on some assignments. I crisscross my legs on the large chair subconsciously as I do so. A math page of homework later, I am freed for a break when my phone beeps.
An uncalled for knock bangs on the front door, twice and as quick as one can do. At first instinct, I know it's not Winsley. Winsley usually has the same knock, three times in an overly specific beat.
Slowly, my legs untangle as I stand from my seat. I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping that I'm just overthinking a tad. My head turns back to Riley, laying on her stomach nonchalantly. Clearly the thought hasn't hit her yet.
"I'll get it." I mutter to Riley; she nods her head with a hum before flipping the next page of the book.
Another knock comes from the other side of the door as I walk towards it. Alarmed I say, "Riley hide. Incase it's Caslon."
Eyes wide, Riley rolls off the couch and staggers up to her feet before running into the hallway. Once she's hidden from sight, I take one last sigh. I force a smile and open the door.
