Nothing Less than Extraordinary

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The next morning we all woke up at the opening of the door. Regardless to the fact that we each had our own paired-off rooms, we had fallen asleep mine altogether like the unit we were. It was probably a weird concept for our visitors to see me and Wib on one bed, Skye and Andres on the other, Indica on the couch, and Anthony on the floor but we didn't care. We all stirred in groggy fashion as suited-up gentlemen were at our door, throwing down familiar duffel bags that belonged to us and had our clothes.

A duplicate of one of the twins got up (to save Andres/Anthony their own energy from sitting up on their respective sleeping areas) and picked up the bags suspiciously. "So you know our lives were threatened yesterday and all you have to show for it are our own belongings?" Andres asked.

"I thought you'd want to change," said the handsome gentleman whose stature announced he was the authority in the room despite how young he looked. His youth made him seem less threatening than Macintyre or even the agents to his sides.

"For what?"

"Your friends are in the hospital so I did my best to arrange transportation and assure security for your visit," he informed and in that instance along with the pure color of his voice, he led us to believe he spoke with confidence because his heart had known no faults.

So we took what he said at face value, grabbed our bags, and retired to our rightful rooms to shower and change before saying goodbye to our parents for the day and heading off to the hospital.

There was no hesitation for me heading straight for Cariba's room. She was the best friend I had besides Kiely back at home, and I had contact enough to know that fire and smoke had a more intense on her because she was so water and moisture based. When I got to her room, she was awake and stirring while impatiently flipping channels on the TV.

"Bloody American television—" she began to growl before glancing over to see me. Her face instantly lit up and she nearly ran over to me in a hug. I was so glad to be in her arms and smelling her chlorine-and-salt-water scented hair. She pulled away and glanced behind me while I studied the redness and uneven, healing skin on her face. "Where's Warren? They gave me some oxygen, but I needed more fluids so they put me in one of the ambulances and I've been here. He must be freaking out."

"Oh he's freaking out alright," I said with a scrunched face before we sat down on her bed. She wasn't gonna take this lightly. She had just accepted her feelings for Warren and he rewarded her with saving her life. She wouldn't want to hear how he can't be here for her now. "The FBI arrested him and Chess."

"FOR WHAT?!"

"They think they're behind the bombing."

"Oh come on," she scoffed and threw herself backwards on the bed.

"Warren set his parent's house on fire before fleeing and Cheshire is...Cheshire. You kind of have to understand where they're coming from," I reasoned. She sat up and shot me a look because I didn't even truly believe what I said. I was just repeating what Indica's mom had said last night. "Zaine and Jane will get them out though. They have to."

"Of course they have to," she reasoned and I finally locked onto the sadness in her eyes. Warren had mentioned she wasn't sleeping due to nightmares about Special Sunday so I wondered how she would cope over something like this. "Thanks for healing me by the way."

"Honestly, no problem," I told her.

"'No problem,'" she mocked. "I couldn't breathe—due to a suspected collapsed lung—and my skin was nearly charred off. And you took most of that away for yourself. You're amazing."