Celia

32 Facing The Bullies

Gio

"Will you hold my hand?" Celia asks, brushing the tips of her fingers against my hand. She looks up at me with big eyes like she needs my permission. I take it and squeeze it, kissing her head.

We're walking down the aisles of Ari's school theater after dropping her off backstage. The space is worn-down and dim, the smell of dust and old wood wafts my nose with heavy perfumes and colognes. The stage ahead is split in two. The left is decorated with a blue sky backdrop and clouds made out of some fuzzy fabric. The right side is a barn with terrifying farm animals.

"She okay?" Chase asks, worried as well from Celia's unusual neediness.

"She might be a little baked," I mutter, feeling guilty. He deadpans at me, knowing damn well why I let that happen. I'm weak for her.

I wave at Arthur who sits in the front row with the rest of the town. A cop in a school theater, baked out of his mind. I snort to myself.

We settle in the back and some older students shut the doors, the lights turn off and a teacher from the front starts playing a piano. Chase makes a snoring sound.

Celia giggles and I squeeze her hand, giving her a warning look.

She's unfazed and just smacks my arm, then leans her head against it. I watch her skinny arms wrap around my arm until she's hugging me to her chest. My hand settles on her lap and I take the opportunity to push my fingers around her inner thigh, holding her like that.

I don't pay much attention to shit that's happening on stage until Ari dances in. Her brows are furrowed in concentration as she takes little steps on her tip-toes. Is she supposed to be a ballerina angel? What are they doing up there, having a party while we plead for help?

It's just a show.

Am I high? Of course not, I drove. Maybe it's Celia.

I look down at her. She's focused on the stage and her chest rises with a soft sigh, her lashes drape up and down. She notices me staring and looks up. I rub my thumb over her jeans. She smirks and bites my arm. I jump a little, startling Oscar and Chase.

"Can you stop?" I laugh under my breath, peeling her forehead away from me. She has her teeth bared like a crazy animal. I can't stop laughing.

"Celia, down girl." Chase folds forward to smirk. I twist my arm and hit his chest with my fist, telling him to mind his own business.

"I'm hungry," Celia justifies. What am I. Steak?

"You want chocolate?" Oscar lights up, turning. He unzips his fanny pack with a proud smile. "My wife always puts candy in here in case I get hangry."

He hands her a red, wrapped piece and she opens it. She's trying not to smile as she finds a ball of chocolate and takes a bite. Her face distorts into an angry scowl. "Is this white chocolate?"

Some people turn and sigh in annoyance. My jaw hardens. I narrow my eyes at them.

"Go Ari!" Celia cups her hands and cheers. Literally it's dead quiet. Why. "Whoohoo!"

"Shut up," I strain my voice and whisper in her ear.

"Who's the prettiest girl on stage!" She yells. Fifty people glance back at us.

I squeeze her thigh, hard. "Can you be fucking quiet?"

"Why?" she whisper-yells, turning to me. "Why do we have to be like the rest of them? These pretentious, stuffy, smelly, sorry excuses of adults, who have forgotten how to live!"