2. Oh bother, where art thou

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"I'm telling the truth, Naomi, I swear."

Mari crossed her arms. "I'm older than Will. I might have the mental age of, like, eleven but I've been alive for sixteen years, and Will has been alive for eleven. It's just basic maths. And I've actually been doing that for a few months now, so I know that eleven is smaller than sixteen."

They were sitting by a window in the Spanish restaurant, where they'd been for almost half an hour. Mari had glanced out the window a few times, but she couldn't see Adela anywhere. She was probably gone. Again. By the time the food had been ordered (Mari had got Patatas Bravas with a side of broccoli) she had given up on searching.

Mari and Will had had this conversation multiple times over the last few months. Will was insistent that she was both illegally (Chiron was an expert at forging legal documents) and physically a few months younger than him. Mari was insistent that Will's 'logic' was absolute bullshit (Naomi had charged her five dollars for the profanity). Mari was older. After all, she'd been running around causing chaos and scribbling stick-figure families on the walls to pretend she had her own, while Will was still wearing nappies.

Even more frustrating, Naomi had diplomatically refused to side with either of them. So Mari was taking things into her own hands. Will was in the bathroom, taking his sweet time, so Mari was seizing the opportunity to convince Naomi that Will was really lying to himself about who was older (her, obviously).

"I might be more inclined to believe you if you'd tell me when your birthday was," Naomi told her. Mari scowled. Her birthday was a touchy subject - mainly because she didn't have one. Her social worker, Andrew Rush, hadn't been able to tell the exact date she was born. The best guess anybody had was that she'd been something close to two weeks old when she was abandoned. She was either born at the end of June or the start of July. No specifics. No beginning. Nothing. She didn't like to remember that, so nobody else had to know, either.

"My birthday just doesn't matter to me all that much," Mari told Naomi. "But I am older than Will. Promise." She may not have known when exactly her birthday was, but Will's was in August. At the very least, that meant that Mari won.

"Okay," Naomi sighed. "I'll get it out of you another time. Will you at least tell me about that girl you were talkin' to outside?"

Mari's fingers went slack and she dropped her fork, sending Bravas sauce splashing everywhere. Pain flared in her left eye, like the top layer of her iris had been seared off with acid. She blinked harshly, trying to force the chilli juice out. "Aw, shit! Shit!"

"No no, don't rub, that'll just spread it and get it on your hands. Here." Naomi handed Mari a napkin, ignoring the dirty looks sent Mari's way, probably from people annoyed about the language. "I'm sorry 'bout that. I didn't realise I'd shock you so badly, Mari. You were smiling with her, more than I've seen you smile before. I was just curious. I didn't realise it was some kinda secret."

"How did you know she was there?" Mari asked.

"Honey, you're really not as subtle as you think." The comment didn't sound mean the way it would if most other adults said it. "The window is glass. Not metal. You were in front of it."

"Oh." Mari gnawed the inside of her cheek. "Did you see where Adela went?"

"Adela, huh? Nice name. And no, I didn't. Sorry, sweetie. She was there one second and gone the next."

Mari's stomach felt like it was full of earthworms. It wasn't just because Adela was absolutely right about this restaurant, which was a piss-take on what Spanish food could be (if Mari could tell that, then there was a problem). Adela had run away from things a whole lot before. Not just physically, even though Adela had done that twice now. It was... something else. Adela had wanted to tell her something, but had changed her mind at the last minute. Mari wasn't sure why, but it made her feel ill.

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