Chapter Twenty-Two - Part One

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Chapter Twenty-Two

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As the limousine pulled up in front of Claudia’s later that night, Ethan had made it a clear point of refraining from asking what had happened back at the castle. I knew that he was well aware of the dark and lonely feeling that had come over me, but he was as tired of asking questions, as I was of avoiding them.

“Naomi,” Ethan said, laying a warm, supportive hand on my arm, before I could let myself out of the limo. “About earlier, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna be mad at you.”

“Yeah, well, me too.” I said quietly. “I’m sorry too.”

Ethan paused, nodding, and I knew that our conversation about the Council would be picked up another time. For tonight, he was determined to leave things on a good note.

“You sure you aren’t mad that I’m not coming in with you? It’s just, I know he’s the reason why you’re so upset, and since I don’t wanna go to jail tonight, I think it would probably be better if I just stayed away for right now.”

“It’s ok,” I said quietly, and with a small smile. “I understand. And as much as I would rather go home and watch Golden Girls with you, I still have to be here for him. Claudia’s sister really needs this, and Tidus could die…”

“Hey, I get it, trust me.” Ethan assured. “Call me tomorrow ok?”

I smiled, nodded, kissed his cheek, and said good-bye. And then I was outside, standing in front of Claudia’s trailer, watching the lights of the limo as it pulled away from the curb and disappeared up the street. There was a chilliness to the night air, but I embraced it. It took the edge off the heat from all those mixed emotions I was feeling.

“You’re late. I was worried you weren’t gonna show.” Claudia said, as I turned around. She had stepped onto the porch, barefoot, just before Ethan had left. She was still wearing her purple dress from earlier that evening, but now with an ugly, brown, afghan draped around her shoulders. She hugged it now, tightly, to her body, looking awfully fragile for a girl who was a Witch.

“I was too for a minute,” I said, as Claudia stepped down from the porch and walked onto the lawn.

“Can we talk? Before we do this?”

“Ok, sure,” I said and she led me to the dusty, rusted pickup that was leaking oil in her driveway. With the click of a key that had been hidden in the folds of her blanket, she automatically unlocked her truck. I opened the door to climb inside of the passenger’s seat, but paused before sitting.

“Oh crap, sorry,” Claudia said, brushing away what appeared to be chip crumbs from the seat.

“So, what’s up?” I said, after Claudia started the engine, cranked up the noisy heater, and turned up the radio, giving me the distinct impression that this was a conversation she didn’t want anyone else hearing.

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