Explosive

26 || Forging New Bonds

~Dedicated to shinyglittergirl for taking the time to read Explosive. You guys should totally check out her awesome story, Tangerine Dreams if you like stories about heists.

My dreams are plagued with images of red roses and guns. There is also a boy holding a guitar, tossing cookies at me and grinning.

My cheeks are wet with tears and there is a cold sweat covering my entire body. Sunlight streams in through the window and I regret not pulling my blinds down last night. It's too early to be awake, too early to be thinking about guns and discarded milk bags. But nothing keeps the thoughts away. I'm drowning in them, gasping for air. Why is it so hard to breathe? The overwhelming guilt and pain that I tried so hard to keep hidden are seeping through.

Shutting my eyes to the brightness, I hold back a whimper. It's so hot in my room, suffocating even. Pushing back my covers, I cross my legs under me before pulling out my sketchbook from under the pillow. My fingers flip through the pages until my eyes fall upon a poorly done sketch of my mother. It is almost two years old and lacks the precision I see in some of my recent sketches.

My mom had loved the sketch, so much so that she wanted to frame it but I simply brushed her off with a wave of my hand. A tightness builds in the pit of my stomach at the memory as a teardrop falls onto the sketch. It smudges the pencil when I rub at it with my fingers. The buzzing sound of my phone interrupts me from my thoughts.

After dragging my hand across my face, I answer the call because I recognize the number. "Hello, Audrey? It's Glenda."

Sniffling, I slide off the bed. My heart pounds against my chest. After emailing Glenda the sketch of the tattoo, I have been awaiting her call but it's been awfully quiet on her end. Aunt Jane keeps saying that no news is good news, which seems incredibly ridiculous to me. "It's me. Have you found them yet?"

There is silence and my body feel so heavy all of a sudden. "We're working on it. I was actually wondering if you might be able to come down to the station sometime this week."

"Is everything okay?"

"We just wanted to go over some things with you." Someone shouts in the distance on Glenda's end, which is followed by a muffled voice. "Sorry, Audrey. I need to go. I will talk to you soon, yeah?"

The phone goes silent before I have a chance to respond. There is a soft knock on the door before it is pushed open. My aunt pokes her head through the door, a concerned look etched across her features. "Audrey, there is someone here to see you."

My eyes land on Josh's hat, which sits on my dressing table, serving as a reminder of last night. I meant to give it to Josh but was so caught up with everything that happened I had forgotten. A part of me wants to keep the hat, which confuses me. "Who is it?"

"It's Cynthia. She said she wants to talk to you." She steps into my room and pulls her robe tight around her thin shoulders. Her eyes are tired and when she takes a step toward me a sickly-sweet scent assaults my nose. It smells like artificial strawberries or raspberries. "Are you okay, Audrey?"

"Yeah," I answer, slightly distracted. Why is Cynthia here to see me? It's almost 11 and Josh is sleeping off his hangover. I imagine that Cynthia would be doing the same.

Aunt Jane stares at me a long time before finally placing her hands on my shoulders. "I'm worried about you and Josh." She searches my eyes. "When Josh was younger, he used to tell me everything. He seems so distant these days." It's obvious that she is pressing me for details about yesterday but it's not my story to tell.

"I think you should try talking to him." At this, my aunt drops her arms and shakes her head. Wisps of hair escape from her loosely tied bun. She looks so much like my mom then that I have to look away.

"Things have been so different between us since the twins were born," she whispers. "I miss him." At that, she turns to leave. "I will tell Cynthia to come up."

Cynthia knocks on my door and then shuffles into the room. Without uttering a word, she collapses onto the small couch. I watch her. She's wearing a baggy sweater with dark sweatpants. Her face is bare of makeup and if it weren't for her striking grey eyes, I almost would not have recognized her. "Hey," she finally says.

"How are you feeling?" I ask cautiously. It's no secret that Cynthia doesn't like me. Seeing her in my room, all relaxed and quiet is shocking.

She flicks her hand. "My hangovers aren't too bad if that is what you mean."

"Is everything okay?" I try. She shrugs her shoulders. Her hair falls onto her eyes but she doesn't bother to brush it away.

"How is Josh holding up?" Cynthia is deflecting my questions so I sigh and take a seat on my bed.

"He has been asleep since last night." She nods and starts picking at the lint on her sleeve.

"How are you feeling?" she then asks me.

A small chuckle escapes my lips. I can't help it. This girl has been nothing but vile to me the last few months. Why did she care about me all of a sudden? "Are you sure you are feeling okay?"

"Oh my god, Audrey," she seethes in response. She then flicks her hair and looks up at the ceiling, clearly frustrated with me. "I'm just trying to be nice. Some kid from school told me what you did for me last night and I just wanted to...thank you? There I said it."

"Thank me? You don't need to thank me," I answer, shaking my head. "I'm sure someone else would have done something about it."

"I would have died if it happened again." It takes me a second to figure out what she is talking about. The memory of Tamara's betrayal is still fresh and thinking about the trip to the mall stings.

"Todd told me what happened. I am really sorry." Cynthia doesn't say anything so I continue. "I wanted to give her a second chance." I shake my head. "I guess she really is the same person who hurt you. Nothing has changed."

"Some people don't deserve second chances. I sure as hell don't think I deserve it." She gets up from the couch and comes to stand before me. She sighs. "I am sorry for the way I have treated you these past few weeks. I was bitchy to you for no reason."

She has her hands spread out in front of her and her eyes are wide. Her stance is so vulnerable and welcoming. She doesn't look like the Cynthia I have gotten to know. "Why now?" I answer, though in my heart I have already forgiven her. Everyone in Oakville used to say that I was too quick to forgive, especially Emily. She was right.

Cynthia shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe it's the fact that you stood up to that dick, Gabriel or what you did for me last night." She places her hands on her hips, tilts her head and studies me. "Or maybe I like how you don't take shit from Blake."

I laugh at this. She smiles back, her eyes filling with amusement. "Blake can be impossible at times. I thought it was just me."

She sits beside me. "No. It's not just you. Blake is all sharp edges until you get to know him, though." There is an easiness spreading across my body at Cynthia's kindness and I welcome it. The thoughts from this morning are no longer crashing against my head like a derailed train. They feel far away, almost like a distant memory.

Cynthia wants to say something. I have a good idea I know what it is. "I'm assuming Josh told you guys about me?"

She nods. "That is so damn terrible. I am really sorry about that." Surprisingly she leans over and hugs me. It feels different from when Tamara hugged me or maybe I am just imagining it. We sit silently for a while.

After that, she doesn't bring up the shooting or my mom. To be honest, I appreciate it because it's not something I want to talk about right, especially after Glenda's call. Instead, Cynthia tells me that both her parents are lawyers and that she has known Josh since they were kids. She also tells me that she wants to follow in her parents' footsteps and become a lawyer as well. I tell her that I want to be a social worker when I am older to help kids like me.

It feels good to talk to Cynthia after everything that has been going on. There is something genuine in her smiles and eye rolls, something that I am sure wasn't there when I would hang out with Tamara.