Tweetie

16

If Hazel was tired on Friday, God knows what she would be the following Monday.

As much as she wanted to rest, her mind wouldn't allow it. Instead, through the weekend, she spent most of her time working. And when she wasn't working, she was staring blankly at the ceiling thinking about how she wanted to rest but couldn't. It was, in every sense of the word, awful.

It was even worse when she realised she was no closer to finding Jason Barber than she was on Friday.

She theorised with Archie, she discussed all of the possibilities of what had happened, and it only pushed her further away. She just kept circling back to Ryan and she couldn't figure out why... what was pushing her thoughts in that direction?

She needed to think of other theories, but it felt impossible when something was putting her mind there. She still had unanswered questions that could tell her more. The broken phone, where he went that night, who knew where he went if anybody did at all, the missing evidence and the lack of people coming forward with information.

If she could just ask the questions she needed to, then things would be simple. But she couldn't. She couldn't give away her position. And any mention of Jason would seem too strange, who brings up bad memories from two years ago without prompt?

She just wanted a single piece of solid evidence.

"Morning, Robin!"

She slipped into the cafe, blurring the time it took to enter the cafe with the time it took to approach it. She felt heavy and overwhelmed, the spiralling thoughts of work engulfed her. Was there something she missed? Did she have to go back over everything? Maybe she already had evidence she just didn't look into enough. What could she look at again?

"Morning," she said to Stewart, pulling her mind back to herself while painting her best smile on her lips. It fell immediately after it appeared, slipping away like her energy. She was almost worried she would start to see hallucinations.

"Get any rest?" Stewart asked as she approached the counter and pulled her apron on over her head.

Her sigh said more than she could.

He patted her shoulder. He understood. He knew all too well that life as a detective was a messy one. Routines were nonexistent, plans were ruined more often than not and most of the time was spent in solitude, working restlessly in your own head to link evidence and think about what would help progress the case.

But she was young. An eighteen-year-old shouldn't have to face that sort of life. Yet, there she was, stuck in it with no real way out.

"Take a seat," he said, flicking his head towards the tables, "you're lucky you get free coffee. I'll make you some now, alright?"

"Thanks, Stewart," she smiled, "you're my favourite."

But, with yelled words called out from a particular table, her smile was aimed elsewhere.

"I thought I was your favourite, Tweetie!" Joel pushed himself up, hovering above his seat to look over Ryan's head.

"Sorry, Joel," she laughed, taking slow steps towards their table, "but you don't give me free coffee."

There was a hum of understanding as Oscar nodded along. He seemed a little less hesitant to speak to her than he had the previous week.

"She's got a point," he said, flicking a stray purple hair away from his eye, "Stewart's my favourite person for the same reason."

The group of five nodded, agreeing silently that Stewart's free coffee was what made him the greatest person.

"Great, thanks," Stewart laughed, taking no real offence from the conversation, "let's see how much you like me when I take your coffee away."

Joel and Oscar let out gasps that sounded like the sort you would hear from bad actors in even worse horror movies. They turned, wide-eyed and stared at Stewart as he continued to make Hazel's coffee with another laugh.

The cafe was a little brighter than it had been the previous week. The sun shone through the windows and gave the cafe enough natural light to turn the lights off. It was a nice change, it felt a little less gloomy in the city. The regular sounds surrounded them, the low rumble from the kitchen and the appliances that worked in there drifted through the whole building and the clink of ceramic against ceramic kept them grounded in the cafe. It felt more energised than it had too, the group of boys didn't seem as dreary as they had and they sat up in their seats more with wider eyes, awake and ready to face a new week.

Hazel was still stuck in the previous week, however.

"Are you okay, Tweetie?" Oscar asked after a moment of gathering his nerves. He spoke a little quieter than he normally did, and it was obvious he wasn't entirely comfortable with her, though, she couldn't figure out the exact reason why. "You seem a little funny today."

She nodded and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She looked like a boat left stranded in the middle of the sea.

"How are you always so tired?" He asked, seemingly wanting a genuine answer to his question.

She blinked, taking a moment to let his words sit in her mind so she could make sense of them.

"Ryan," Leo said this time, "let her sit down, she looks like she's about to pass out."

They all turned to Ryan who took up the only free seat around the table and used it for his foot. And with a short grumble, he slipped off of it and kicked it out for her to take.

She dropped into it, sinking almost immediately.

"...Seriously... do you ever sleep?" Oscar watched her, seeing the weight of her eyelids get heavier and heavier the more they spoke about how tired she seemed. She was almost willing to go to sleep where she was. In the state she was in, she didn't care who saw her sleep.

"I'm just constantly busy," Hazel answered, "I do a lot of work."

"Why?" Ryan asked, squinting in a way that felt more like he was disapproving of her answer. He might have been for all she knew.

"I like being busy," she said. "It gives me less time to worry over dumb small things."

"But isn't there a limit?" He continued as he pushed his chair back and swung on the back two legs, "like, I feel like you've met the limit. You look dead."

"That's debatable, who really decides what the limit is?"

"Your body, probably."

"Before you meet the limit," Leo spoke up, deciding to join the conversation, "maybe you should rest while you can. The cafe is quiet now."

She wasn't entirely willing to argue. She knew that she was ridiculously close to finding out exactly what the limit was, and with her poor health, it wasn't the safest thing. She knew that she would probably be limping by the time the cafe closed because of her poor health mixed with her inability to stop working.

So, she rested, deciding to sit with the group until the day started up.

Unfortunately, Hazel couldn't rest forever.