A R I A

"Zoe, you really don't have to babysit Hails for me,"

My best friend shakes her head firmly and takes Hailey's backpack from my grasp before tossing it into the backseat of Hunter's Jeep, which is parked right outside of my house.

"No way, Ari. Just shut up and let me do something for you for once, okay? You've still got some homework to catch up on, plus there's this whole crazy Michael shit," she waves her hands for a dramatic effect, "and, girl, if you think I'm going to let you handle all this stress on your own then you need a good punch to your face."

"No!" Hailey cries from behind her. "No punching! Punching is bad, Zoe. You should not punch Aria. Only punch people like Miles' brother," she scolds, wiggling her finger. "My mommy taught me that."

I grin while Zoe glares at me and ruffle Hailey's dark bouncy curls. I miss having her around, but when Joyce asked me if I could babysit her for today, Zoe somehow heard about it and insisted that she'd take care of Hails so that I could rest and focus on all the schoolwork I didn't finish while I was in the hospital, since I'm going back in a few days. The idea of school only adds to my migraine. Even with all this chaos, I still have to graduate.

"Well, then Bobo can punch her for me," Zoe smiles sarcastically at Hailey, who only scrunches her face in utter confusion.

"Who's Bobo? Is he your boyfriend?"

"Are you serious?" Hunter pops his head through the window of his car, a look of disbelief crossing his face. "I can't believe a fish beat me to it! A fish!" 

Speaking of which, how is that damned goldfish not dead yet?

"Oh, so Hunter is Zoe's boyfriend then?" Hailey asks me while I help her with the jammed zipper of her jacket.

"Yup," I say at the same time Zoe shakes her head furiously.

"Ugh," she massages her temples. "we're going to be late for school if you all keep talking about nonsense, and we have to drop Hails off first."

"That child is a devil!" Hunt declares, peeking his head out of the window again to stick his tongue out at Hailey, who does the same in return.

"Yeah, but she's an adorable devil," I laugh, opening the car door for her. "Zoe's right, though. You guys better get going."

"Are you coming over tonight?" Zoe asks, getting into the Jeep as well. "You still have to fill Liz and I in on what happened on that date." she wiggles her eyebrows.

Oh, shit. I'm going to need to bring earplugs then.

"If I manage to finish my homework, yeah,"

"Okay, you better finish it. Get some rest, babe. You look like a dead sea witch." Zoe tells me, in all seriousness.

Geez, thanks for the boost of confidence.

Hunter snickers, but he immediately stops with ice-cold glares from all three of us girls. Hailey even decided to go out of her way and stick her face in between the two front seats just to shoot him a dirty look.

"Bye, Aria!" Hailey waves at me with a wide, toothy grin before she sits back into her seat and buckles herself in.

"Bye Hails! Have fun at school," I wave back, watching them pull out of the driveway. Wow, I sounded like such a mom just then for a second. Anyone who has fun at school is either under the age of eleven or they're sociopaths, there is no in-between. 

When I get back inside and make my way to the living room, Aunt Lydia is throwing things into her bag at the same time she's munching on a granola bar and pulling her massive jacket on. She was supposed to be at work ten minutes ago. 

"Uh, Aunt Lyd?" I try to contain my laughter, but I can't help the goofy grin that breaks across my lips as I walk up next to her. "Do you need help?"

Her eyes snap to mine and she removes the granola bar from her mouth so she can speak without drooling. "I can't find my freaking phone! Can you ring me?"

I nod my head and whip out my phone from my pocket, but then I notice something in her hand and toss the device on the couch.

"It's in your hand, Lyd," I shake my head, chuckling at her bewilderment.

"I'm going crazy," she mutters with a frown. "I'm sorry I can't make you breakfast this morning, Aria. I'm running late and—"

"I know, Aunt Lyd. You don't need to worry about me, I'll be fine," I cut her off, reassuring her, "and, hey, I know I suck at cooking but I can still mix cereal with milk, you know. You underestimate my skills."

She stops rummaging through her bag and sighs. Aunt Lydia allows a small, sad smile to ease onto her lips. "You remind me so much of your mom."

"Aunt Lyd . . ." I trail off, ready knowing where this conversation is going.

"She wasn't just my older sister, she was my best friend." Lydia continues.

She was mine, too.

"You're all I have left of her, Aria," her bottom lip begins to quiver slightly, but she doesn't let the tears fall. "It's in my nature to worry about you. Do I have to remind you that you almost died? I . . . I don't know what I would've done if you did."

The last time I'd seen Lydia really cry was when I saw her for the first time after my parents' death. She'd hold me like her own child and let me bawl in her arms, all the while sobbing herself. At that moment, Aunt Lyd was just as broken as I was. Her sister was her world, just like my parents were my mine.

"It's okay, Aunt Lyd. I'm not going anywhere," I squeeze her in a tight hug before releasing her and hand Lydia her bag, "but you are. You're twenty minutes late."

She curses under her breath and grabs the car keys. "Eighth-grade kids are mature enough to wait outside of the classroom without causing any trouble, aren't they?"

"Nope. Trust me, they definitely aren't,"

"Can't you lie to me for once and just give me that bit of false hope I'm looking for?"

I grin and push her out the door. "Never."

I wait until she's driving away to begin my hunt for a certain receipt. Thankfully, Uncle Paul had left for work an hour ago already, so I don't have to worry about him finding me snooping through his things. I hurry up the stairs, only to be breathless by the time I reach the second floor. I still have shortness of breath after the surgery, and damn, it's annoying. I'm just glad it isn't long term.

I scurry into the office room and take a second to scan the area. The walls have shelves that hold dusty informative books against them, and there are a few plants as well. I barely ever step foot into this room, since everything looks relatively boring. However, I know that the collection of receipts I'm looking for is in the drawer of the large desk that's by the window.

Before I even get the chance to have a glimpse of the inside of the drawer, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. The text is from Miles.

Miles: I got pulled out of school

Me: Huh?

Miles: Cops

What the hell is he saying?

Me: Did you manage to run someone over with your new motorbike already?

Miles: Nope, but I would actually prefer that over this

Me: What happened?

Miles: Holy shit, I feel like a criminal just by sitting in the backseat of this car

Miles: They're taking me to the station. They want me to talk to Michael

Me: What? Why? You're okay with that?

Miles: No, not really. But I'm curious. Apparently, he was asking for me while they were questioning him, and he would just reply with "I want to see my little brother". What a piece of shit, right? So impolite of him

I snort.

Me: Do your parents know?

Miles: Yeah, Mom was kinda hesitant but Dad gave me permission, so here I am, trying not to look like a guy who just committed a dumb crime like vandalizing a trashcan to everyone who looks through the window

Me: Didn't you say you did that at your old school?

Miles: Shhh, we aren't supposed to talk about that

Miles: I blew it up, by the way. That's different

Me: Sure it is

Me: Okay, well, be careful with Michelle

Me: Michael*

Miles: Michelle suits him better

I laugh softly and turn off my phone. What could Michael want from Miles? Information? On what, though?

I turn my attention back on the desk. Dwelling on questions like this will only further distract me. I slide every drawer open until I find the right one. There are six boxes, each full with both long and short receipts. They're organized by date so I rummage through the most recent ones first. The fact that Uncle Paul keeps his receipts from the grocery store is kind of funny. I don't know anyone else who has receipts of fruit they bought from a year ago.

My back starts to ache a bit a few minutes into the search. Geez, how many receipts does Paul really have? I'm almost tempted to count all of them, but then again, I'm way too lazy and I also don't have that kind of patience.

What if the gun has nothing to do with Michael? Last night, I could barely sleep because of all the questions swarming my brain. I almost decided against looking for the receipt, just because it feels wrong to look through Uncle Paul's things. I know that neither he nor Lydia would touch my personal items—well, unless Aunt Lyd is trying to find her Oreos, obviously. I feel guilty for searching through Paul's stuff.

Ten short minutes of scavenging later,  I am positive I've looked at every receipt in each box at least twice, if not more. None of them have any records of a payment for a pistol or bullets. I tap my fingers on the desk and shut the drawer before looking into all the other ones, but I find nothing. Thank goodness. Relief washes over me like a cold wave on a hot summer day. I was hoping to find nothing since it most likely meant Uncle Paul doesn't even know about the gun, but a part of me knows that the receipt could've easily been disposed of, or it's hidden, or maybe there was no receipt to begin with.

An uneasy, nauseous feeling bubbles up in my stomach. I sink into the chair and dig my fingers into my hair, tugging on the strands. I really, really hope the pistol isn't Paul's.

But if it is, I'm counting on him for a good explanation, because if he doesn't have one, then I don't know what I'm going to do.

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Hello, loves! Damn, this is my third update within four days. I hope I can get the next chapter done soon so that I don't have to deal with writer's block again. Anyways, I know there's not much action in this one, but ahhh I can't wait for the upcoming chapters!

Ugh, poor Lydia though. I just wanna hug her and Aria 😭 What do you all think of Paul? I hope he isn't up to anything . . . Hah, and the Michael thing. What do you think he wants to say to Miles?

Anyway, don't forget to vote, comment, and wash your hands!

Chloe ❤