Infectious

Fiona

It's nine o'clock in the morning and I'm pounding on door number seven. Fiona's radiant hair peeks out from the sliver in the door as I'm mid knock.

"Morning," she says with a thick british accent.

"Hi," I say and launch into the purpose of my being here,"do you have a gun?" I inquire.

"No," she admits, stealthily slipping out of the room.

"Well we can't really have target practice without a gun," I say in a that's-so-obvious way. She nods in agreement and trails behind me to the weapon room. I snatch the keys from my pocket and unlock the door to the room. I let her enter first and her jaw drops in awe.

"Close your mouth, you might swallow a fly," I joke.

"Thanks mom", she arrogantly retorts and we both smile. I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy having her around. I reach for a revolver which lies on the oak shelf and slip into her porcelain hand.

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The cans are lined up on the rooftop wall and Fiona keeps missing them very time she shoots.

"Okay, Hon, you need to relax," I advise her. Her tense shoulders slump back and she takes a few deep breaths.

"There you go, now bring the top of the gun up to eye-level," I instruct and she does as told. I march over to her, my combat boots clicking against the concrete floor. The trees are beginning to wilt and the flowers are shrivelling up as snow threatens to fall. My thick fabricated leggings are great insulation against the numbing weather. I steady her hands and take a large step away from her.

"Now shoot," I order. She clicks down on the trigger, her doll-like arms absorbing the shock and pierces a can.

"Good job," I compliment her.

"Bet I'm better than you now",, he jokes. I pick up my gun and shoot every single can.

"You sure about that?" I inquire.

"So when are we practicing again?" she asks. I laugh and someone begins to clap at a slow rhythm. I twirl around and see Griffith. I do a slight bow and Fiona comes to stand beside me.

"Bravo," he says sarcastically.

"Thanks," I say as though my tongue has been poisoned.

"Who's your friend?" he inquires with a hungry look.

"That's sick in the head Griffith, she's thirteen! Don't look at Fiona that way!" I scold him.

"Oh my gosh! Your Griffith?" she fakes excitement.

"Ya, you've heard of me?" he inquires cockily.

"No! And I wish it would've stayed that way!" she tells him in a venomous tone. I sling an arm over her shoulder and hers around my waist.

"My friend Fiona and I were on our way to breakfast," l I state in a sour way.

"Okay, go on right ahead," he says. As we pass him to go to breakfast he grabs me by the upper arm. I turn to look at him and he's but mere inches away from my face. I inhale his sweet breath and my heart begins to race. My breath stops short and I frantically search his eyes. He leans in as though he's going to kiss me and slyly goes to whisper something in my ear.

"You look beautiful today," he compliments me in a low, silky voice. I'm frozen to my spot as he walks away until Fiona tugs on my arm.

"Don't let him get to you like that," she tells me. I search her popping brown eyes and give her a confused look.