reticent

37

• AMALIA •

"Hmmm." I hum quietly as the wheel reaches the top again. It's dark now, but I think I've only been here for about an hour. When it's winter, the sun sets really early.

     I kick my legs a little, the rain pouring down heavier now. I let it fall on my face, soaking it, before I look back down, using my hood to hide myself from the rest of the world.

It rolls down to the bottom again, then stops. I frown as I look over at the man who let me on originally, then my gaze slides to my grandfather.

He sits down next to me, and the man readjusts the bar so it's protecting both of us. Then we begin moving again.

"Hi." I say.

"Hi, baby." He replies softly. "Everyone's been worried about you."

"I said I was going to dance."

"And you lied." He whispers. "And you said you'd be back at five."

"It's only, like, four." I mumble.

     "It's quarter past six, sweetheart." He says. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

     "I didn't realise it was that late." I whisper, my mind a little foggy.

     "Do you need your medicine, Amalia?" He asks me softly.

     My eyes water. "Frankie crushed it."

     "What?" He questions.

     I inhale a deep breath. "And then.. then he made me—" I almost throw up at the thought. "Then—th—then.."

     "Amalia." He says my name again. "What happened? What did Frankie make you do?"

     I shake my head. "I'll tell you when dad gets better so you can focus on h-him. I'm sorry if I worried you, grandad. I didn't mean to. I just got distracted."

     "I know you didn't, baby. But you need to tell me what happened."

     I inhale again. "Erm.."

     "Do you want to write it down?" He suggests.

     I nod immediately. "Yes please."

     "Okay." He says. He takes my bag and searches through it, ripping a page out of a notebook before pulling a pen out too.

I take them both from him, biting my bottom lip between my teeth. "W-will you read it later, though? When I'm not there?"

He tilts his head but nods. "If that's what you want."

     I scribble it down quickly, then fold it up tightly and pass it to him. He puts it into his pocket, then zips my bag closed.

     "Is Xander mad at me?" I ask.

     He furrows his eyebrows. "Why would Xander be mad at you, baby?"

     "I told a teacher to go away before I hit her. And I left school when I wasn't supposed to and went to his restaurant. He called and told me to go back to school, and that they had enough to deal with me without me being in a mood." I mumble. "I just didn't want to go back to school, everyone kept talking about me while I was right there. And I felt like everyone was looking at me."

     He sighs heavily. "Amalia, everyone's just stressed out right now. He's not mad at you, if anything he's worried. We all were."

     "I'm sorry."