06. chapter

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[ YOU'VE ALWAYS HAD
THE POWER MY DEAR,
YOU JUST HAD TO
LEARN IT FOR YOURSELF !
— the wizard of oz ]

"YOU WANT ME to what?" Lana asks in between few mouthfuls of soup.

"Go outside." Wesley replies patiently.

"I don't think that's a good idea." She says. Her hands twiddle with the soup spoon as she twists it back and forth. "I haven't gone outside for such a long time."

"Then today's the day to start." He encourages her with a bright and hopeful smile. She meets it with a scowl.

"I don't want to," she replies stubbornly.

"Why not?" He persists. "You haven't gone outside for a long time, and it's pretty cold today if you don't want to get a tan and all."

"That's not my problem." She deadpans.

"You have to face all your challenges Lana, nothing is ever going to happen unless you do!" Wesley shouts. "You can't just stay inside cooped up!"

"It's not that easy!" She shouts back, their argument accelerating. She moved her hands along with her mouth accordingly, "you'd never understand Wesley, things are not that easy to do, no matter how much you wish they were."

Thirty minutes after storming out of Lana's house, his anger slowly starts to dissipate.

He walks home, trying to cool down. It's not as if he doesn't understand — he does — but he also understands that if he doesn't give her a push, no one will.

Maybe he went about it wrong?

He tries to not think about it and starts racking up ideas to busy himself with. It's a weekend so Maurice has chess and Farah has ballet.

Thinking that a run would do him good he starts jogging before he sprints, scenery moving to the pace of his running limbs. His heart rate goes up, and while he can feel his limbs begging for him to stop he doesn't and sweat forms, trickling down the nape of his neck rhythmically.

He stops when he hears his phone chime. He's almost near his home but slows down and pulls his phone out.

It's a message from Farah, who tells him that she might be done with classes earlier today and wants to know if he's available to hang out.

He doesn't wait even a second to type out a simple reply : yes.

Instead of going inside his house, he turns around and mind maps the way to Farah's ballet class.

He gets there after twenty minutes. Teenagers flock around the area, waiting for their parents, Uber's and cabs.

A few of them shoot Wesley some looks but he ignores them to look for Farah.

She's inside, standing next to her friend Jennifer snickering and whispering. A few of her other friends (he doesn't recognize them cause they don't go to his school) stand alongside her, arms crossed and jubilant smirks on their faces.

He instantly thinks : not again.

Wesley knew, that Farah wasn't exactly the most subtle person. She wasn't a bad person but she could definitely be classified as blunt or rude. While he knows that particular trait may have come from her dad — a subject which makes Farah's eyes look stormier and sharper than the rough seas — he can't help but feel pissed at it.

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