Palindrome

Fifty-Seven

Chapter 57

Paxton

I don't why this is coming so naturally to me; I guess we could blame it on genetics, but that's a sorry excuse to justify my behavior. Aarohi doesn't say anything, sliding off her backpack and taking out all my binders and textbooks.

She slams each of them onto the coffee table, causing me to flinch. I watch her from the corner of my eye while she does the action. Her hands move seamlessly as she stacks them neatly in an inconvenient tower for me so that I can longer see the entirety of the screen.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna go," Aarohi announces after she's done, and my heart drops at her words. I'm this close to blurting out for her to stay when Ella speaks up.

"I like your hair."

That had to be the most random comment ever. My sister looks at me with impatient ferocity, silently asking me what I'm doing. Shrugging, I pretend like I don't care.

Aarohi blinks, a hand flying to her hair. "Thank you. I love yours; I can never get the fishtail braid down."

Ella twirls her braids, her eyes glinting mischievously before speaking in a coy tone, "I bet you'd look great in one."

Her eyes turn to me, and I know exactly what's she up to.

"Paxton's gotten great at braiding my hair ever since Alice left," Ella points at me.

"You should do one for Aarohi."

The little shit.

"I'm good. I don't want my hair ending up like his," she replies distastefully.

Ouch.

Ella pouts, walking over to Aarohi. I'm trying to communicate for her to stop whatever she's planning, but if she sees me, she chooses to ignore it. If she doesn't stop soon, I'm going to end up in jail for strangling my little sister. Too late, she's already pulled a resistant Aarohi to where I am and sat her down on the floor in front of me.

"Oh, would you look at that Georgia's calling me," Ella sings, pulling out her phone and blabbering into her ear. I send her another frantic stare, but she's already skipped happily out of the room, leaving just the two of us.

Aarohi doesn't say anything; she pulls the hair tie out of her hair, holding it for me to take it. I do so with shaky hands, glad that she can't see me right now. Her raven black hair fans out beneath her shoulders in light waves. I end up gazing at it for too long undecided on how to go about this.

Is there a way to braid someone's hair without actually touching it?

Hesitantly, I run my fingers through the strands of her hair, carefully sectioning it out as Alice taught me to. Then I weave her hair as I'm supposed to systematically. My fingers end up accidentally brushing against the nape of her neck, and I pause, nearly dropping the other pieces of hair I'm holding. She doesn't say anything about it, so I continue.

It was never this awkward between us. The feeling of quiet is suffocating; I wrack my brain to say something, anything to get some sort of conversation going. Nothing ever comes out, and we're left sinking in our silence. I wish there were a simple way to really put down why I'm doing this.

I guess I'm scared.

Scared that I'll fail her just like others have for me. Everything between us is complicated and chaotic, and filled with turmoil. I used to think that's part of why I love her, but I don't know anymore.

I don't know anything anymore.

The doctor told me I would be alright, but look where that got us. My dad promised me he'd come over for the weekend, but he didn't. Savannah promised to love me forever, but all she did was take a piece of me away.