Cabin Three // h.s. au

e l e v e n

Questioning the Imprisoned
+
e l e v e n :

It took over ten minutes for my chest to stop heaving, my fingers and lips to stop tingling, and my legs to regain strength. Harry apologized multiple times, though he was saying "sorry" in between laughs. Laughing tends to diminish the genuinity of an apology.

Harry insisted that he was not out of the game, and that I had to officially tag him. I protested, saying that any kind of contact counts as being tagged. He continued to resist until I chased him. My breaths were rugged as I watched in jog in front of me. I was completely fed up with being mortifingly slow, so I began to sprint and with all the energy I had, I flung myself in the air, clinging to his back. His knees immediately unlocked beneath him, and his body came crashing down. I shook my head, sitting up, my legs on either side of his back. I lightly slapped his neck and laughed, muttering,

"I think you're out now." He didn't move, only responded with a groan. I pulled my right leg up, sitting on the grass next to him. When his head finally came out of the grass, there was blood trickling down his forehead and my eyes went wide. I looked down at the grass where his head had come in contact with a rock. His eyes were watering and he was quickly chewing on his lip.

"I think I hit my head on a rock," he mumbled, pulling his face out of my sight to look down at the ground.

I quickly jumped up, telling him to get up and walk with me. He avoided eye contact and continued to nod whenever I asked him a question. We eventually found Mr. Davids, and he took Harry away to go clean the wound. I found myself alone, so I walked to the "prison" where Oliver was kept hostage .

"Come to apologize, have you? I won't hear any of it." I scoffed at Oliver as he whined senselessly, keeping his nose in the air.

"I've come to gloat, actually," I remarked, laughing.

"So," his voice had dropped in volume and his head was pressed to a wooden pillar the gazebo above us, "I take it you didn't tag him." I felt a sudden rush of heat go to my face.

"What? Who?" I stuttered.

"Harry." What was Harry telling Oliver? Does Oliver think I'm easy? I will not have people think I'm a Staples button.

"Actually, I did tag him. Took quite a force though," I bragged as if I were confident and not dying inside. "I had to take him down."

He let out a chuckle that sounded somewhat like "ho-ho," and smiled brightly. "Then why are you conversing with me right now and not him?"

"He, uhm," I looked to the ground, "his head hit a rock." I was surprised to hear Oliver squeal in laughter.

"Oh, my god, oh, my god. Did he cry?" My eyes widened and I slapped his stomach, earning a groan from him and a bit of a bow.

"That's terrible for you to ask!" He leaned back up, a painful smile on his face.

"That means he did."

"Oliver Marie Andrews!"

"My middle name is not Marie."

"Oh, yeah? What is it then?"

"Actually Harry and I have the same middle name: Edward." I nodded. I didn't know Harry's middle name, nor do I think he knew mine.

"Oliver Edward Andrews," I said quietly, as if to try it out. I personally wouldn't name my child that, but to each his own.

"It's not very catchy. I wanted to take my mum's last name and not my father's once they were divorced, I thought it would go better."

"And what was that?"