Duo's Revenge

Chapter 5: Games

The girl was wearing a lovely white over-the-shoulder top, a pink skirt that went just above her knees, and a pair of white gladiator sandals she had received for Christmas the year before. She had on a necklace with a silver heart on it, a gift from her great-grandmother before she had passed. Her soft, shiny light brown hair had just been brushed, and did not have a single knot or tangle in it. I smiled at her, and she smiled back, but our smiles disappeared at exactly the same time.
I turned away from the mirror. I wanted to have a good time with my friends, but my mind kept telling me that it was wrong to have fun, to actually enjoy myself and be happy, when my sister could be dead. "She's not," I said to myself. "Stop that, damn it! She's fine. She's fine. She's fine." I was grateful that nobody had walked into my room, because I must have looked crazy, talking to myself out loud.
Fine, she's still alive, my mind told me. It's still wrong for you to enjoy yourself after she has been kidnapped. She could be being tortured right now. Whipped. Hit. God only knows. And you're here, wanting a distraction. What would Lola say? How disgusting of you.

I shook my head. No, that is not true. She would want me to be happy.

I looked at myself in the mirror again. My smile reappeared, and so did my reflection's. We looked at each other for a while, then I nodded to myself and took a breath.

"Perfect."

I exited my room, my small pink purse and phone in hand, and walked down our wooden stairs, holding the handrail. I turned on my phone and checked the time. It was 2:59. My friends would be here shortly. I could hardly contain my excitement as I stood near the door, practically shaking from how happy I was. Even though I had seen them only the day before, I missed them terribly. Their presence always made me day brighter, and whenever I was going through difficult situations, they always helped me best they could.
I realized that my mother would have a heart attack if I left without telling her. She would think her only other child had been kidnapped, too.
"Mother!" I called. "My friends will be arriving in a minute to pick me up. I'm going to one of their houses to spend some time with them. I'll text you which of their houses we end up going to, alright?"
"Alright!" she yelled back. "Be home before 7:00."

Just then, my doorbell rang. I quickly opened it. There were six of my friends.
"Hey!" one of them, Courtney, said hesitantly. She was pretending to be happy, but I could tell that she–and my other friends, who were standing behind her, looking at me with small, nervous smiles on their faces–were feeling bad for me. It seemed as though they were not sure what, exactly, to say to someone whose sister had gone missing the day before. Should they be happy and try to cheer me up? Apologize for my loss? Say nothing?
"Hey," I answered. "I know why you're acting like that, you know. You don't have to. You can act normal around me. Just because Lola's missing doesn't mean that you have to be careful around me. I'm fine."

Then, my mother appeared behind me. "Hello, girls," she said, with a small smile on her face. My friends jumped a bit when they saw her, and I could understand why. She did not look like her usual self. She had bags under her eyes, she was wearing a robe, and her face was pale and sunken. Nevertheless, they all smiled and greeted her in return. They and my mother all talked as I awkwardly stood there, looking at the ground, unsure of what to do, as I was not part of the conversation. Finally, after five or so minutes, they finished talking. Thankfully, Lola's name was not mentioned once.
We bid her farewell. As my friends and I walked toward Kate's car–a dark blue Honda, which her mother had given her for her 16th birthday–I turned around to wave to my mother once more, but she was already closing the door. I caught a glimpse of her face, and I felt a pang of guilt for leaving. She looked depleted of her energy, and her eyes were watering, on the brink of tears because of the events of today and the day before.