Ending the War

Chapter Five

After dinner, Michael volunteers to walk me back up to my room, which I'm grateful for since I'd be looking for it until morning. "You really didn't know anything?" He asks as soon as we are out of earshot.

"I knew stuff. Like how you only want to be in office for the power." I said, getting defensive. But the truth sounds awful. At least I know my name is Victoria, which it is, right? Why did this war start? What happened to Mom? Questions I had buried long ago come bubbling up to the surface now that I can ask them. But the time to ask them isn't today.

"That isn't even true!"

I just sighed. Now, wasn't the time to get him so mad. But he was really loyal to be standing up for the Activists, maybe he actually believes in the cause. The Revolutionaries have a much darker sense of humor, where we are the butts to our own jokes oftentimes.

"So, little sister. Victoria." he sounds it out, nodding in approval, "Nice."

I don't really care, I'm not changing my name, and I'll be out of here before you have the chance. "You can just call me Vee, everyone else does." For the first time since my Mom died, I'm finally free of Dad's helicopter parenting. "And, that fact is wrong, twins means that we are the same age, doofus," I say, staring him in the eyes, a smirk dancing on my face.

"I'm twenty-nine minutes older." He brushes me off. How does he know that off the top of his head? "Okay, Vee, you want to play Twenty Questions?" I want to go to sleep, but this might be a good time to get someone in my corner. Win Michael's trust, and eventually, get answers to my questions. Or at least convince Ryan that he doesn't have to go after me. So I hesitantly nodded my head.

"Then, do you want to play in my secret lair." I let out a giggle; I couldn't help it. Then quickly covered my mouth with my hands, and looked at him like a deer in headlights.

"You have a secret lair?" I ask, stifling my laughter. I am not supposed to show emotion.

"Not if you shout it out so loudly! But you have to swear never to tell anyone where it is, ever."

"Alright," I say, and snort, "I swear."

"I'm serious." He scolds, not moving, and crossing his hands over his chest. He could be scary if he tried, but I don't think he was trying right now. He seemed almost playful.

"Okay, I swear," I say really slowly, staring him in his eyes. They were jade green, the same eyes that stare me in the face every time I look in the mirror, the ones that I looked at in Mom, but brighter, happier, less dimmed by life.

"Just this way," he grabs my hand, and I try not to wince, as I put weight on my bad leg, trying not to tip over. I had never used crutches before, and could only walk so fast. He speeds up, and I trip. I jerk to a stop and stick my bad foot in front of me, to catch myself, forgetting that it was injured. I caught myself, and my leg screamed. I bit my tongue until I tasted blood, and fixed my grip on my crutches. My hands must've balled into fists to keep from screaming out.

I meet Michael's eyes, and he looks at me, eyes staring into my soul, with a look of pity, almost as if he felt bad for me. I cleared my throat. The look made me squirm like a fish on a hook.

"Right. Uh... Sorry, I should've been going slower."

I stand up, and start crutching off into one direction. Michael follows, hanging his head a bit, but looking up every so often to make sure we were going off in the right direction, and telling directions to me as we went. I stopped suddenly, and he bumped into me, and then I did something that would've gotten me grounded with the Revolutionaries.

I cocked my head to the side a bit, "What's wrong?" I ask, totally serious, voice as monotone as I could make it.

He took a deep breath, and I waited expectantly, my eyes not leaving his.