Freaks

40 • distractions

❝we were together. i forget the rest❞
ｗａｌｔ ｗｈｉｔｍａｎ

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  ＴＨＩＮＧＳ you shouldn't be thinking about when trying to read a sixty-year old book about the war: what your sort-of, sort-of-not boyfriend is doing at that specific moment in time.

It's on a Saturday morning, a few days after Cole finds me 'hero'-ing (or thrill-seeking as he prefers to call it) and we go on our impromptu first date, when I first come to the conclusion that Cole and I spend far too much time together. Lately, I find I can't think about anything for very long before my thoughts come back to him. It's not always a bad thing — but with the number of things I have to worry about, it's not always a good thing either.

The situation with Andrew and his dad, the safety of my aunt and uncle, the weird letters and clues Professor Horowitz left behind before going missing, Morgana's recent odd behaviour. There are so many questions left unanswered. It makes me worry that perhaps Cole has become more of a distraction than a help to me.

I let out a sigh, running a hand through my bedraggled hair. I shouldn't be having these sort of thoughts so early in the morning.

To distract myself, I return my attention to the book I 'borrowed' from the school library. Sleep doesn't come easy to me these days. After waking up for the fifth time overnight, I gave up and decided to do something more practical with my time — namely read the book.

The Hidden Allies, the title reads. The first few pages is comprised of a long list of names and statistics of all the people involved in a certain project, though all the data seemed inconsequential to me. There is a short summary of the time period, focusing primarily on World War II and it's after effects, but having already studied this in World History, I skim through the chapter quickly till I reach one I find relevant.

PREMISE & PRETEXT

There is a quotation under the heading, though there is no reference to the author or person who may have said it:

'Often, it takes silence to reveal the source of the noise'.

I furrow my eyebrows as I read it. To myself, I murmur: "What's that supposed to mean?"

Before I can read any further, my phone rings.

I detach my eyes from the sepia-toned pages of the book in my palms, staring resentfully at my phone as the ringtone continues to blast on. After a moment, I reach out to my nightstand and answer the call, briefly catching a glimpse of the caller ID as I press the phone to my ear.

'Home'. (Probably my aunt calling from the landline.)

"Hi, Aunt Vi," I greet, making an effort to sound more cheery than I actually felt.

As I speak, my eyes sweep the room. Cass isn't here. She was in the room when I last checked. Though that was a while ago. . . Did she say where she went? A half-dormant recollection of her announcing her departure resurfaces. Probably.

"Actually it's me, Ted."

My attention switches back to the phone call. "Uncle Ted? Oh, I'm so sorry! I just assumed..." My voice trails off. "It's usually Aunt Vic that calls first."