Friend and Foe

Chapter Five

Since Hazel and Abigail left on the trip a week before, they had sent me daily updates and picture from their trip. They had gone south to spend the fortnight in the snow at Bluff Knoll. Every evening, my email was inundated with pictures of snow and cloudy skies.

Abbs was a hobby photographer and there was a distinct difference between her and Hazel's photos. Abb loved arty close-ups, fragments of a whole picture. A close-up of Hazel's boot, sunk in the snow. A single snowflake perched on top of a finger. Hazel's pictures tended to be selfies that didn't just include the two of them, but also a large glance of the scenery.

Their emails usually varied between 'wish you were here!' and 'you're missing out bitch!'. I ooh and ahhed over the pictures and wrote them stories of my parent's antics. The day after Magnet and I's stroll by the river I didn't receive and emails but sent one of my own detailing the fire.

I had been sitting on the news like my parents. My parents hadn't wanted to tell me in fear of worrying me and that was why I hadn't brought myself to tell the girls. I didn't want to ruin their holiday with my problems. But I thought it was finally time to explain why most my belongings were already in boxes so when they came back, it wasn't a complete shock.

Mum and Dad hadn't told me to pack but I did have initiative. Dad's words hadn't stopped ringing through my head. Him telling me that our lifestyle was dependant on the company that was then, a pile of ashes and rubble. I knew we were destined to move after the fire and I didn't want to be caught unaware, Mum and Dad announcing a week before the move that we were moving and having to do a rush job.

Starting well in advance made sure that I was able to go through all my stuff. I was doing a proper purge of my wardrobe, letting go of the things that had sat untouched in the back for so long they had cobwebs decorating them. I had found, so far, a One Direction hoodie that I had loved when I was thirteen and a pair of pink and yellow skinny jeans, I'd bought with my own pocket money when I was eleven.

Under any other circumstance, the purged items would have gone to the salvos but considering our financial problems, everything went onto Facebook Market Place. Every cent counted. I even dusted off my old ATAR books and put them up. They were probably the priciest things I owned, and I doubted I'd score more than fifty bucks for each of them.

Mum and Dad hadn'tnoticed that I'd nicked half a dozen packing boxes from the garage, or that myroom was getting increasingly emptier. I just hoped they'd mention the firesoon or else I'd have to explain why I needed another roll of packing tape.