Four days had passed since the last injection, and still no news from Mimpi. Although nothing had happened, Andrews was growing more suspicious. Tonight, surely didn't help that...

      Anna and Jim were working late again, so Andrews and I were left to fend for ourselves. Considering our culinary talent, or rather lack of, we made frozen pizza. Correction: I made it, while Andrews read through his notebook filled with suspicious things I've done. He carried the book everywhere, watched my every move.

     "What are you—" he began, tone laced with surprise and concern. I turned to face him, pizza pan in hand. His wide eyes only widened.

     "The beeping noise we just heard? That was the oven informing me that the pizza was ready."

     I expected an eye roll, but he barely paid attention to my words. He stared at the pizza in my hands in bewilderment. The pizza looked fine to me. I'm not a great cook, but it's pretty hard to mess up a frozen pizza. Though I've heard of people cooking them with the cardboard still beneath. If he didn't want any, I'd have no problem eating it on my own. I had better things to do than question Andrews questioning me, for one letting go of the pan which was growing warmer in my hands. Oven mitts can only retain so much heat... The mitts. I was not wearing any. I had grabbed the scorching pain with my bare hands, thus explaining the crazed looked on Andrews' face.

     "Ow!" I tossed the pizza on top of the oven. Though it hadn't burned, I faked a face one in pain would make.

     "Are you okay?" He reached for my hands.

     I backed away, hiding my palms against my chest. He wouldn't dare go near them now.

     "I'm fine. Nothing that can't be fixed by a little cold water."

      "Clara—" he tried again. I pushed him away, swatting his wandering hands.

     "I'm fine!" I insisted. "Now go get your pickles, you freak."

     I've heard of pineapple pizza, even strawberry pizza, but pickles? To me it served as confirmation to just how odd Andrews was.

     "I don't get it," he marvelled as he took the jar out of the fridge. "You must have been holding it for at least a minute... You didn't even flinch. Didn't notice it until I made a face."

     "Give me that," I interrupted him, stealing the jar from his struggling hands. He clearly couldn't open it; I hoped my doing it for him would create a distraction. I succeeded in distracting him... though I wouldn't consider it a victory. Far from it actually. The lid was on incredibly tight, and a result of my annoyance with Andrews, I squeezed a little too hard. The glass shattered between my fingers, pickle juice flying everywhere.

     "Oops."

     Andrews opened and shut his mouth, gasping like a fish out of water. Blinking repetitively in confusion, as he stared between the oh shit look on my face and the pickle juice running down his pant leg.

     "But— What? How?" he started; a look of confusion still plastered on his face.

     "It was obviously cracked." I laughed nervously. "Someone must have dropped it."

     "Nothing happened when I tried... There were no cracks."

     "You probably made it worse."

     Andrews eyed me suspiciously, still sneaking glances at my hands. Slowly, I moved them out of his field-vision. Again, his lips parted, but I beat him to it. I couldn't afford to let him ask questions.

     "Anyways... I'm going to go clean this," I blurted, placing my palms together and raising them in the air, faking an injury, before I bolted. I couldn't help but notice Andrews furiously writing in his beloved notebook. Remind me to accidentally burn the thing.

     I wore gloves the rest of the evening, during the following day too for the matter, claiming they kept the bandages in place. Good thing I had them too. Andrews wouldn't let it go. He tackled me, more than once, even snuck into my room as I slept. Our scrambles didn't last long. All I had to do was shove my hands up my shirt and he was rendered helpless. He'd huff in defeat and leave with a pink face. Although hiding my hands didn't prove to be that big a problem, I had a feeling he'd give me hell for trying to hide my secret.

     It was the day before Halloween when Mimpi finally showed up. I waited sixteen days! 384 hours!

     "Where have you been?" I demanded.

     "None of your concern."

     I bit my tongue. Oh, how I wanted to scream at her. But if I shouted Andrews would hear, and last time I flipped on her she went and ignored me for two weeks.

     "You're right." I forced my words through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry for being rude last time, but you've got to admit that what you just pulled was a dick move. You can't just drop a bomb on someone and disappear. You can't just leave after telling me the next fight would be soon, and that I must be ready at all times... I've got a lot of questions for you!"

     "Ask away."

     Like sending k as a reply to a paragraph long text, I was slightly annoyed by her short response. She made no acknowledgement of my complaints.

     "Why'd you finally decide to come?" I asked.

      The only time she visited, was to share what she believed was important information. She wouldn't come to chat. What bad news had she come to bare upon me?

     "I warn you again."

     "So, now the fight is really, really soon?"

     She nodded. Wonderful.

     "How soon?"

     "Very," she said. "From now to the next two days."

     "From now? As in they might be outside right now?"

     She nodded casually. I pouted and whined as I carefully made my way to peak out my window. I pulled my curtains back in the slightest crack, just enough to see. I swept my gaze across the yard, minutes passed, and my gaze swept it countless more times. Satisfied that I was momentarily safe, I went back to bed.

     "How do you know when they're going to attack?"

     "We have spies... though they not been quite efficient lately." She was clearly bitter about it; irritated but for once not with me for once.

     "Please do work on that...Moving onto more pressing matters," I started. "How am I to be ready at any given moment?"

     Mimpi frowned. You'd swear she was looking at an idiot. I was no idiot.

     "Just be ready... always anticipate a fight." Again, with the belittling look. Thanks captain obvious. I sure didn't put that together on my own.

     "And am I supposed to carry the Sphere everywhere? Cause it's kind of heavy, and not exactly pocket sized."

     "Of course not. Leave it where it is! It does not like to be moved." How she knew how the Sphere felt? I didn't want to know. I would not question her friendship with an inanimate object. I didn't even want to think about it.

     "Did you or did you not tell me, that I didn't stand a chance without the suit?"

     "I not say it like that. But yes, part of Eudora's power remains in suit, you cannot reach your full potential without it."

     I waited for her to catch on. No Sphere meant no suit. When it was clear that she wouldn't come to this realization on her own, I took matters into my own hands.

     "Won't it be a problem that I might not have the suit with me?" I finally asked, atrocity of the situation clear in my tone. The only way I'd have the Sphere with me, and therefore the suit, was if they attacked me in Colton's room... That itself would be a disaster. This was the second to last place I wanted their people to come.

     "Why would you not have it?"

     I took a deep breath. I threw my hands up in defeat before half shouting; "You just told me not to move the Sphere!"

     "I old, but my memory still intact," she complained, thin dark brows drawn inwards. "I remember what I say."

     Jaw clenched, I forced myself to take a breath. "How am I to touch the Sphere if it's not with me?"

     "You don't touch it!"

     "But I need the suit!"

     "Summon it!"

     All arguments died in my throat. I paused, blinking at her. Summon the suit? It would just come to me... "Mimpi, I don't know this shit," I finally complained. "I didn't know I could do that— How do I do that?"

     "Ask for it," she answered simply. "Tell it you need it."

     I pinched the bridge of my noise. Talk to the Sphere? Talk to the inanimate object? "As in telepathically or shall I shout really loud and hope it'll hear me?"

     "In your head, moron."

     The moron calling me a moron, did not settle well. I was about to give her a piece of my mind when I heard the rustling of my doorknob.

     "Andrews!" I shouted at the door. "How many times do we have to have the privacy argument?"

      "I'm not even in your room!" he shouted back, still jiggling the doorknob. "Because you locked it!"

     "Had I not done so; you'd have just walked in!" He needed to learn to keep his nose out of everyone's business.

     "Who are you talking to?" he demanded.

     "Boys," Mimpi whispered aggressively, starting to disappear.

      "But I have—" I started, stopping mid-sentence when I realised that she was already gone. Damn it. I had so many more questions.

     "Who are you talking to?" Andrews asked again.

     "No one! I'm watching Tv."

     "I heard your voice."

     "Yes, we are having a conversation."

      "Heard!" he repeated, bursting through the door, bobby pin between his fingers. "As in past tense, as in before you knew I was here!"

     Door smacking into the wall, I spluttered. With owlish eyes, I found no words. A locked door couldn't even stop his snooping. He wasn't paying attention to me. He was busy inspecting every possible hiding spot in my room.

     "So... You've been making phone calls?" he said uncertainly, once it was obvious no one else was in the room.

      "My phone is charging in the living room."

      Andrews furrowed his eyes at me, as if he was trying to come up with other solutions as to why he heard voices. I'm sure a glowing image above a crystal sphere didn't cross his mind.

      "Care to explain?" he asked after a long-lasting stare down.

      "Explain what?" I played dumb.

      "Your voice."

      "Well... It's nothing out of the ordinary. I've been told I have a nice one, if that's what you mean. Not nasally or high pitched, but still very feminine... I suppose normal is how I'd explain it."

      "Clara," he managed through gritted teeth.

     "Yes, you're right," I congratulated. "That is my name."

     "You're making this much more difficult than it needs to be."

     "I don't know what you mean by that," I lied.

      "You know what I mean. Stop playing dumb."

      "Don't tell me what to do," I dropped the act, not bothering to let him see just how much he was frustrating me. I addressed him with my most unpleasant expression and tone. "This is my business, not yours."

      "Best friends don't keep secrets."

      What is he, five years old? So much for not trying to force secrets out of me. He was trying to make me feel guilty. It was working, but I'd never let him use my guilt against me. Best friends are also supposed to trust each other. He was supposed to trust that I would let him in when I deemed it an appropriate time. He was aggravating me more than Mimpi usually does, which was saying a lot. He was attacking my part in our friendship. Belittling me for my actions when he had no idea what I was going through. When the only reason I was keeping secrets from him was for his own protection. I was not in the mood for this. I was about to explode.

      "Easton Andrews." I spoke in a voice that was meant to be calm, but really wasn't. "Get. Out of my bedroom. Now."

      It was best for both of us that he left. After another lengthy staring contest, he came to the same conclusion I had. He left my room scribbling in his notebook.

       I slammed the door in his face, but not before stealing his notebook and throwing it out my window. I knew he'd go retrieve it, but in the moment... I felt a little better.