CHAPTER THIRTEEN
❛ high on life. ❜

THE NEXT THING I KNEW, THE THREE OF us were sitting cross-legged in a small circle on the library counter, as Stanley smoothed out a large piece of paper between us.

     "Okay, so here's a map of the school." he explained, beginning to point to separate rooms. "This is the library here, and here's the gymnasium—"

     "Hang on, where did you even get a map of the school?" I inquired, as it suddenly occurred to me that I'd never seen a map of the school this detailed just displayed out in the open.

Stan looked from the paper and then to me, his hands suspended in the air mid-gesture as his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish gaping for air. "I... have my ways," he finally answered. "But anyway, so the security recordings are in the principal's office right here."

     "Ugh, but it's gotta be locked." Sydney massaged her temples with her fingertips.

     "Whitaker's probably the only one with a key, so—"

     "No, the janitor's gotta have one."

     "Okay," Stan scratched his head, drumming his fingertips on the table thoughtfully. "Okay, uh, just spitballing ideas here, but m-maybe you could distract the janitor and steal his keys?"

     I scoffed. "Yeah, like that's gonna work."

"We're gonna need someone who has..." Sydney trailed off, tapping her knees as she sank into deep thought. Her pupils shuffled around as if she were searching for answers, and I don't know what I was expecting to hear when she opened her mouth again, but it wasn't the words, "... boobs."

What?

Self-consciously, my gaze fell slowly to my chest, but before I could even say anything she said, "Not you."

     "What's that supposed to—" I began, my arms folding defensively over my breasts as Sydney slid off the table and sped out of the library. Stan and I scrambled to her feet, skipping between large strides to catch up to her in the hallway. It wasn't until we reached the entry to the gymnasium that she stopped, leaving us outside whilst she tried to pry Dina away from her boyfriend's lips.

     He rocked back and forth on his heels, clearing his throat before he informed me, "By the way, your boobs are fine."

     "Um... thanks?" I wasn't sure what to say. "I didn't have a problem with them, anyway."

     "Oh, I know, but just if you were, like, insecure about them, then I can confirm that they're great."

     "Mhm."

     "Like, I didn't mean any of that in a weird way! Boobs are, like, the last thing I care about. But, uh, it was more just 'cause—"

     "Stanley, shut up."

     "Yeah, good idea. I'll do that." He gave me a thumbs up, his eyes burning into the floor as he ran a hand through his curls. Sydney came back, followed closely by Dina who seemed completely oblivious to our little mission. Speaking of which, how on earth were we going to sugarcoat this to her without sounding sketchy?

     "What?" Dina stared uncomfortably around the halls amidst our silence. "Somebody gonna say something, or..."

     "We—" Sydney coughed. "We need your help getting the keys to the Principal's office. So we can steal some security camera footage."

     She snorted, her hands disappearing further into the sleeves of her ballerina pink sweater. "What? You're serious?" she faltered once she saw our genuine lack of reaction. "Um... why? What's on the tape? What'd you guys do?"

     "Well, the truth is..." taking a deep breath, Syd did her best to avoid eye contact with any three of us as she blurted out, "Stan and I had sex in the library, and it's... it's all on tape."

     "What— ow!" I rubbed my now-sore toes with my other Converse, after having a Doc Marten stamping aggressively on it. But I didn't sign up to pretend that Sydney and Stan had shagged each other... again! I thought we were over that.

     "What?" Dina's jaw dropped. "No way."

     "Dead serious," Stan added, keeping his poker face. "It was right there in the library. We sixty-nined and everything."

     Too much, Stan.

     Dina gestured to me, her brows furrowed in curiosity. "And... how does this involve Hallie?"

     It doesn't! I screamed, in my head.

     "Threesome." Stanley replied in a panic without hesitation, and I muffled a gasp through sealed lips. He seemed to realise what he'd said afterwards, as his cheeks turned red and he rubbed his eyes like he regretted everything.

     "What I think he's trying to say," I interjected, pausing to glare at him before looking sweetly back at Dina again. "Is that I walked in and saw it happen, so the three of us were caught on tape, and therefore the three of us wanna make sure it never sees the light of day. The... fearsome... threesome. No incest here, thank you."

     Fuck me...

     She pursed her lips, humming in surrender. "Alright. What d'you need me to do?"

We began to propose our (stupid) idea to her, and soon enough we were waiting patiently outside of one of the classrooms as she entered. I could see her flaunting herself through the window, holding herself with elegance and grace to be as seductive as possible. And I just couldn't do that. Not even if I tried.

Within a couple of minutes, Dina emerged with the keys jingling in her hands, and her cheeks tinted rouge with an embarrassed glow. As she was rolling her shirt back down, I caught sight of Sydney staring dreamily at her bare belly, only snapping out of her trance when it was covered by stripy cotton fabric.

"Holy shit, you got 'em." Syd took the lump of metal keys, searching through them all in astonishment.

Dina nodded. "Pretty sure I set the women's lib movement back a couple of decades, but other than that it went great," she said, leaning against a locker and tilting her head down at my cousin. "So what's the plan? We got less than twenty minutes."

"The plan... is quite simple," Stanley emerged, approaching us with a burrito in each hand. He presented them to us chivalrously, saying, "First, we distract Whitaker with burritos."

I snorted, not knowing which aluminium foil lump to look at. "And what? Lure him away with a Tex-Mex meal?"

"No, I'm gonna put these in the microwave, blast these bad boys up on high, and then..." he made a hand gesture intended to represent an explosion. "BOOM. Whitaker will hear it and come runnin'. When he takes off from the teacher's lounge, the coast'll be clear straight to the principal's office, and then we'll make our move," he said, and pointed enthusiastically at Sydney. "Syd, you're the key man... key lady."

     "Wait, why am I the key lady?"

     "Because you're good with your hands."

     "Ew." Sydney wrinkled her nose at his smirk, as did I.

     "Dina, you're lookout." Stan instructed, to which she nodded. "You keep your eyes on Whitaker. The burrito bomb should keep him busy for a while. That man cannot resist a fire extinguisher, which will give us the time we need to get in," he chuckled. "Burrito bombs are disgusting. Last time I set one off, my whole house smelled like bean farts."

     I clasped a hand over my mouth. "Ugh, gross."

     "And that's where you come in, Hallie."

     "Me?" I asked, in dread.

     "Yes," he smiled. "You're our backup. If everything goes to shit and we need more time, you're our Plan B. So, you'd need to swoop in and distract him somehow."

     "And how d'you think I would do that?"

     "I don't know, but he practically loves you," Stan looked to the other girls for reaffirmation, and they simply nodded in agreement. "With your high grades and all, so it's not like he won't wanna suck up to the school's best student."

     "Oh, stop, you're making me blush." I deadpanned. Although a part of me did want him to keep going...

     "And you're cool under pressure, so—"

     "Okay, fine." I gave in.

     "Anything goes wrong, Dina, you signal us, Hallie jumps into action, and everyone else take cover."

     Sydney pinched the bridge of her nose, squinting in pain. "That is literally the worst idea I've ever heard."

     His ego dampened by her pessimism, Stan awkwardly waved a burrito in the air in defeat. "It's fair, it's totally fair..." he did finger-guns at us. "Do you have a better one?"

We all looked at each other, all thinking the same thing: No. So, it turned out that Stanley Barber's Burrito Bonanza would simply have to do. Desperate times, stupid measures...

It didn't take long for us to assemble into position: Stanley and Sydney huddled close next to the trophy cabinet, peering over at us for a signal when to go. I was keeping watch by one wall, Dina by the one opposite me. We were metres away from the staff kitchen, the windows beginning to steam up as smoke wafted from the microwave even though it was closed.

There was a bang, and footsteps began to thunder down the hall. Mr. Whitaker cursed sweet nothings very vocally as he burst into the kitchen, the stench of burnt kidney beans and spices overpowering and making my eyes water. Dina gestured for the duo to go, and they stealthily crept whilst he was distracted to his office.

Checking the coast was clear, I followed not far behind them, in the event that I'd need to be backup. Stan and Sydney disappeared into the room, the door gently clicking shut behind them.

This plan was so stupid. And what's more, if we got caught, I didn't think they would take trespassing and theft very lightly. The last thing I needed was a sentence to detention for the remainder of my time in High School...

     A couple of minutes later, a flustered Mr. Whitaker began purposefully charging down the corridor. Fuck. I shot a frantic look at the window to the office, where they were still searching very openly for the footage. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I slid out from my hiding place, hands held behind my back as I exclaimed, "Mr. Whitaker!"

     He stopped in his tracks, taken aback slightly by my over-enthusiasm. Time to tone it down. "Good afternoon, Hallie," he squinted at me. "Shouldn't you be in the gymnasium right now?"

     "Yes, that's right, but..." I took a deep breath, racking my brain. "I just wanted to ask you a question. You see, I was pretty surprised when I got a detention this morning, and I'm sure you felt the same."

     Mr. Whitaker pursed his lips. "Well, I must say I was disappointed when I saw your name on the list."

     My eyes drifted over his shoulder as Stanley's face floated by the window — he was shaking his head vigorously, and pointing at the figure before me. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to decode what exactly he was trying to tell me. Abort mission? Carry on? Subtle communication didn't seem to be his strong suit, and I was too far away to see properly. Mr. Whitaker seemed to notice, and had almost started craning his neck around suspiciously when I cleared my throat.

     "Right, well," I relaxed as his head snapped back to look at me. "When I was in there, scraping gum and all... I started reflecting, just like you said we should. I thought about college. And I thought to myself, what if I've ruined my chances?" I ignored the thumbs up that Stan gave me and carried on. "I know it's irrational and all, but..." I bowed my head to the floor, rubbing the floor with the sole of my shoes. "It's eating me up inside, sir. And I just wanted some clarity."

     "Hallie, you have absolutely nothing to worry about," Mr. Whitaker reassured me; broad shoulders softening, and tilting his head towards me.

     "Really?"

     "Of course not!" he gloated. "You're one of our finest students, and one lousy detention won't set your record back. Just don't make it a habit."

     I forced a sigh of relief, even smiling for added effect. "Thank you, Mr. Whitaker, that means a lot." I darted eyes away from the office door again.

     Mr. Whitaker seemed itching to leave, reluctant to turn me down, but I couldn't blame him; this felt like the natural place to stop a conversation, and part of me almost did.

     Think, think, think...

     "I've been looking a lot at the Curtis Institute of Music."

     "Oh yes?" he nodded, half-interested and half-preoccupied.

     That wasn't a lie. It was at the top of my list for colleges that I wished to apply to, and for a variety of reasons. I couldn't wait to leave Brownsville and (hopefully) pack my bags for my studies elsewhere in the state.

     "It's in Philadelphia, so it's kind of far away," I explained carefully. "About a four and a half hour drive from here. But I figured it would be good for me to get away from Brownsville, and just the Pittsburgh area in general, to really spread my wings and become more independent."

     "Absolutely. I wish you the best of luck."

     With a firm nod, he swivelled on his heel and I saw Sydney and Stanley's heads shoot downwards as they ducked; that is, thanks to my wild hand-waving as an emergency signal.

     "Wait, Mr. Whitaker!" I called out desperately. "Uh, I've also been thinking about other colleges, wanna hear?"

     "I'm very sorry Hallie, but it'll have to wait," he said, glancing at me whilst side-stepping to the door. "I've got a bit of an emergency on my hands—"

     CRASH!

     The smash of shattered glass falling to the ground made both Whitaker and I jump out of our skin. "Oh, I'm too goddamn old for this shit!" he whimpered, jogging breathlessly after the sound. Seconds later, Dina popped out with a hammer in her hand and a Cheshire Cat smile plastered across her face.

     You are a lifesaver, I thought, returning the grin.

     As I did, the door swung open and the duo stumbled out.

     "You got it?" I asked, and Sydney nodded. "Okay, so... what now?"

     "We run." Stan answered. Before I knew it, he'd shot past me and was ripping down the corridors, soon followed by Sydney, Dina and I. Skidding on the polished floors, rebounding like pinballs against the walls, our feet pounded to get as much distance as we could between us and Whitaker.

     Through the labyrinth of lockers we ran, until we were absolutely sure that he couldn't catch us. Our pants fell into synchronisation, chests heaving for air between stifled giggles as we slid down onto the floor. My legs trembled with adrenaline and excitement, my hands struggling to be kept at bay as they fidgeted on my thighs. We were fucking crazy, that was for sure.

     "Oh, sweet Jesus..." Stan kissed the USB drive containing the footage, and twirled it between his fingers triumphantly. "Oh, I thought we were screwed."

     "We were screwed, but holy shit, we did it!" Dina shook her head in disbelief.

     "And it was all thanks to your crackhead excuse for a plan," I looked past Sydney to Stan, who smiled modestly at the floor. "Which, surprisingly, worked."

     For a while we just sat there, chuckling softly and still trying to get over what we'd just done. I knew I probably should've been ashamed right then and concerned about my reputation being put into jeopardy... but in that moment, who cared? There was a strange, welcoming buzz of rebellion tingling in my blood that I couldn't quite shake, and for now I wanted to savour it.

     "Thank you guys," Sydney said finally. When we didn't respond, she broke out into a heartfelt smile that lit her eyes up like glowing crystals. "Seriously. I mean it."

     I shrugged, nudging her elbow as I did. Stanley reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal tin and a lighter. Putting a roll-up between his lips, he flicked the lighter a few times before an orange flame caressed the end of it, and he took a long drag of it. Dina mumbled something, awestruck as he exhaled a cloud of cannabis-laced smoke.

     "Any takers?" Stan asked. Sydney took the roll-up and took a puff — in response, Dina's eyes popped open even wider, and I sealed my lips shut in the efforts not to cough. The smell still worked its way up into my nose though.

"You're not serious..." she scoffed, glancing uneasily at the smoke.

"Oh, yeah." Sydney giggled.

"Since when do you smoke weed?"

That was my question, too. I mean, I should've expected it if she'd been hanging with Stanley a lot, but still. Seeing her take a drag of it like she'd had years of experience was still surreal, and almost comical in how out-of-character it looked in my eyes. It didn't even cross my mind then that recreational use of weed was illegal in Pennsylvania.

"Oh, c'mon Dina, everyone's doing it," she leaned over Stan's lap and outstretched her arm as an offering. "Don't you wanna be cool like me and Stan?"

"Peer pressure, much..." I joked. There was something light about this moment, like we all put aside our differences and were just bonding with one another. It was nice.

Dina hesitantly took it from Sydney's fingers, and inspected it curiously. We all watched her, short spurts of laughter escaping us like pipe leakages, as she slowly raised it to her glossy lips. They remained shut, beaming before they broke free into a toothy smile, and unleashed the caged laughter we were trying to withhold.

She handed it back to Stanley, who then turned to me. "Wanna try some?" he asked, but I shuffled away from the burning spliff an inch or two.

"Oh, no, I can't," I explained quickly. The careless joy from before had been wrung out of me, and left me with a dry discomfort. "Sorry. I'm not allowed."

"I mean, you don't have to," he said, mischief tugging the corners of his lips upwards. "But your parents aren't here. So if you wanted to try—"

Sydney pushed his hand away, her tone falling into seriousness although still with a certain levity, as she said before I could stop her, "No guys, she actually can't. She has this heart condition."

There was this brief pause, like a limbo between states where the both of them didn't seem to quite understand. Did they think we were joking? But instantly afterwards, Dina raised her eyebrows and Stan's face fell.

"Wait, seriously?" he asked, his voice small.

I sighed. "She's right," I admitted, crossing my legs. "As much as I'd want to experiment, it might trigger a reaction."

This was something that I'd always disliked: the helplessness I felt when breaking the news to people about my heart. It usually marked some kind of weird checkpoint in our relationship, a Before and an After. The Before, when they acted perfectly normal around me, and the After, when they treated me differently. Like I was fragile, about to break. A time bomb with no real time for being set off. I didn't need to be reminded by others that it controlled my life, I already thought of that every waking day.

"How long have you had it?" Dina asked.

"Since I was eight," I told her. "So, no drink, no drugs, avoiding caffeine where possible..." Although that wasn't so bad. I still liked to bend the rules and have some indulgences here and there, like the sugary milkshake at the diner last week. If having a delicious chocolate milkshake meant I'd be more likely to have palpitations, which were spontaneous enough anyway, then so be it.

"Shit, man. I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay." I shrugged. Because it was. Most days were fine, even if it held me back from many things. But when it did happen, like the other day, I felt awful. And that's when my paranoia would peak.

I noticed Stanley was drooping, almost like a flaccid plant; without a second thought, he dabbed the roll-up on the metal tin lid, stubbing it out. At first I thought he was frowning over the fact that I had to be the one putting a downer on this fun moment — I mean hey, maybe I would've been too if I was selling and taking drugs — but he wasn't. It was the way he looked at me afterwards that stirred something inside. The concern, the sympathy, even a flash of guilt.

"And I mean," I glanced down at the tin and back at him. "You guys can still smoke it all you want, that's fine I think. I'll be fine."

Dina hummed, and Sydney nodded in agreement with me. Jesus, way to dampen the mood, Hallie. Bringing up my medical history seemed to do that a lot.

"Besides, I don't need weed, or beer, or anything..." I announced proudly, tilting my chin upwards and shaking my hands towards the skies as I whisper-yelled, "I get high on life."

Sydney snorted so hard I thought she'd burst a blood vessel, and collapsed onto my shoulder in a fit of laughter. Whether it was the cannabis messing her up or my mediocre joke was just hilarious, I had no idea. But I joined in — the laughter starting from my belly and working its way up through my chest and to every nook and cranny of my body. Soon the other two guffawed too, and we were dissolving into a puddle of giggles: slapping our thighs, gasping for air between the uncontrollable hilarity.

     We figured after that it was best to make our way back to the gymnasium, so we began our trek, Sydney and Dina walking ahead and tittering between themselves. Stan fell into step next to me. It was about halfway there that he stopped, and asked all of a sudden, "Why didn't you tell me about your heart before?"

     I halted too, turning to face him. He had that look from before, riddled with concern, but it had been softened slightly by the laughter from minutes before.

     "Well, it didn't exactly come up, Stan." I chuckled, and I didn't know why because it wasn't funny.

     "I know, but it's just..." he caught up to me again, as we began walking once more but at a slower pace. More like a stroll. "That must control your life a lot, and I kinda feel bad for not knowing."

     "Don't," I ordered. "I never really tell people anyway unless they seriously need to know. Or, of course, if they see it." That was how Calvin had found out, when he was a witness to one of my first attacks. He's been there from the beginning and knows how much I hate the fuss, but will still jump into action when necessary. So, in conclusion, he's a saint and I don't thank him enough for that.

     Our steps became synchronised, and we walked in silence. We walked through the gymnasium doors, and neither Bradley nor Jenny were to be found. Jenny... fuck, not again.

     I'd been reminded once more of that weird comment she'd made. Sydney and Dina had disappeared into the locker rooms next door, in search of the missing detention-goers, which left Stan and I alone. A perfect time to lay out where we stood.

     "And, um," I began, attracting his attention. "About what Jenny said before..."

     "Oh, yeah. That." he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. He obviously found this as awkward as I did.

     The quicker this was over, the better. "I just want you to know that it's okay, because I didn't believe her."

     His head jerked up so abruptly that I thought he'd get whiplash, and he stared at me like a deer caught in headlights. "You... y-you didn't?"

     "No, of course not! I mean, would you trust anything that comes out of that girl's mouth? Besides, I don't want her to mess things up between us."

     "Us? In what way?"

     Christ, do I really have to spell this out?

     "Well..." I swallowed, suddenly feeling rather self-aware. "After last night, I don't know about you, but... I'd like to think that were, you know, friends. Wouldn't you?"

     The way he looked at me felt like his mind was still computing what I'd just said, the correct response still circulating in his head. I couldn't figure out if he was overjoyed or disappointed, because it was like he kept switching before me.

     He'd like more than that. Shush! What else would he be thinking? Anything else! It's nothing.

Ever wish you could put your brain on mute? Because I do.

     Finally, he answered with a carefully controlled, "Yeah. Yeah, definitely."

     "So just don't listen to the crap she talks," I said firmly. "Because I don't."

     We were silent again, and I leaned to my side in the hopes that I'd be able to somehow peer into the locker rooms; the door had been left ajar. I could hear muffled conversations, the rise and fall of voices, but they were impossible to break down properly from here.

     "Hallie?"

     "Yeah?" I locked my gaze with Stanley's, thrown off by his intense stare.

     He said nothing for a few moments, just looking at me with this... this look, which made my insides do somersaults and my breath hitch in anticipation. But then he smiled: a small, lopsided smile that only lasted for a second, and I'd hoped that it would reassure me but instead it just made my heart thunder even harder.

     Stan bit back the smile again, his pupils dilating. "I, uh—"

     SLAM!

     The locker room door swung open and crashed against the wall, Dina storming out in a flurry of anger. Stanley and I watched on confusion, the intimacy from our 'moment' diffusing rapidly as Brad chased after her.

     "Babe, wait, please! Syd's lying, I swear," he whined. "Please! She's lying! You're not seriously breaking up with me?"

     Sydney trailed out, arms held casually in front of her as she watched the catastrophe unfold; in her case, a victory. She shot me a smug little smirk and I caught on, however it vanished quickly when Whitaker's voice echoed through the gymnasium, crying out, "Hey! Which one of you punks eats burritos?"

     The three of us glanced at each other, before shrugging. Brad, amidst his hot-headed fury after bruising his ego, blinked in confusion at the burrito fiasco that he and Jenny Tuffield had completely missed out on. An image popped in my head of Brad and Jenny also being present when the four of us were laughing in clouds of cannabis, and I grimaced.

     "All right, I don't know what the hell went on tonight," he yelled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "But I wanna see everyone in my office first thing in the morning!"

     Mr. Whitaker stormed out, and Stan shot me a cheeky grin through pursed lips.

     I rolled my eyes at him, but I was smiling too. "Way to go, genius."

     Bradley, still seething with rage, thrust an accusatory finger in Sydney's direction. "I offered you a truce, and you fucked it up. This is on you. You remember that."

     He then left and Jenny finally emerged from the locker room, seemingly unfazed by the drama. "Another day in paradise..." she muttered under her breath, turning to us. "So, you guys wanna get wasted?"

     Sydney squinted at her and shook her head, disgusted, and I avoided looking at her until she'd left. Too awkward.

     The remaining three of us departed detention after gathering our things, and got into Stanley's Ford Fairmont parker outside; Sydney riding shotgun, me in the backseat. After last night, I'd admit that it felt a little anti-climactic to be sat back there.

     "Okay, so now that Hallie and I have helped you steal the evidence that would put you in detention for a thousand years, can you tell us what happened in the library?" Stan inquired to Syd.

     "No," she shot back immediately. "You'll both think I'm crazy."

     Stan chuckled, and I poked my head forward between the two front seats. "Knowing our current situation, it can't get much crazier than it already has."

     "And to be fair, we've seen you move shit with your mind," he added. "You can trust us, okay?"

     I nodded at Sydney in agreement, and she stared down at her lap. If there was anyone she should've been able to trust, it was me. I wanted it to be that way. There was a point, when we were kids, at which we were each other's best friend. I still liked to think that we were that way with each other.

     She took a deep breath, eyelids fluttering shut as she seemed to painfully reminisce. "Well, the lights were flickering, but it wasn't me..." she opened them again. "I don't know, I— I just felt like someone was in there with me."

     "What do you mean?" Stan asked.

     "What if it was just me?" I suggested, although I didn't think it was. She'd already begun shaking her head vigorously. "I was there when you knocked those shelves down."

     "No, not you. I mean, it felt like I was supposed to follow it, or maybe it was following me? I don't know. I just couldn't make it out. I turned a corner and it was gone, but there was this feeling..." her voice cracked, and she deflated a breath she'd been withholding to calm herself. "I swear that I wasn't alone."

     I furrowed my eyebrows. "So, who do you think it was?"

     She paused thoughtfully, before scoffing bitterly. "I wish I fucking knew."

***

     The three of us had gathered at Stan's house to watch the footage back, in the hopes that we'd be able to spot this mysterious presence Sydney had been talking about. His dad was home, and exactly how I'd pictured him: slumped in the couch, catatonic to his son with a can of beer only an arm's reach away, as his eyes were glued to a sports game. We'd managed to sneak past without alerting him of our presence, and in doing that I got a good understanding of what Stanley meant when he told me about his home life. Treading on eggshells... it was exactly like that.

     Once in the safety of his basement, however, we were able to relax. It seemed that Stanley made his home in this place, like an underground base where his personality flourished in the decoration of it. There was a musty smell, and I couldn't tell if it was the wood or something else. He had shelves overflowing with VHS movies, records, a vinyl player standing proudly in the open, and other random memorabilia. I think I even saw a cocktail shaker at one point, which begged several questions.

     Part of me knew how he felt, though. Whilst my parents didn't abuse me and we loved each other, I didn't exactly get much out of being in their company. So often, I would retreat to my own bedroom which, as opposed to Stanley's lair in the basement, was an attic bedroom that I had all to myself.

     It was a lot cleaner, tidier and organised than his, though. And I didn't have a vinyl player.

     "There! There! Freeze it there!" Sydney pointed frantically at the computer screen, as Stan scrambled to press the space bar. Her finger settled on a grainy shadow, which looked overly ordinary to me. "Yeah, you see? What is that?"

     "Um..." Stan was clearly thinking the same as me, shuffling around with his Rubik's cube awkwardly.

     "I think that's just the light." I yawned and rubbed my eyes. I didn't know how long we'd been here, but it was now dark outside. My brain was slowly becoming fuzzy from staring at a screen for hours (who knows how long?) on end.

     "Well, can you zoom in? Enhance?"

     "Enhance?" Stanley snorted. "What kind of fuckin' operation do you think I'm running here?"

     Sighing, I gave a dismissive shrug. "It's just your shadow. I mean, I get your concern, but... I dunno, Syd."

     The video reached the part where the shelves fell down, the almighty crash which I'd heard only limited to a harsh crackling through the footage. Stan shook his head, his fingers dancing across the cube. "That's so cool..." he murmured in awe.

     "It's so not cool," Sydney retorted, her voice rising and sounding more on edge second by second. "It is massively screwed up— will you PLEASE stop doing that?" she yelled and glared at the Rubik's cube, which fell limp in his hands with a small sigh of shame, like he'd been scolded.

     "Sorry."

     "Jesus fucking Christ..." she whispered spitefully. Hoping to release the tension, I took the Rubik's cube from his grasp and placed it on the table, far out of reach.

     "Uh," he mumbled. "Do you wanna look at it again, or—"

     "We've watched it, like, a million times." Sydney huffed.

     "Okay, and we're just missing this fucker. I-I know it! I mean, he's in there."

     "But what if he isn't?" she laughed, but she ended up sounding genuinely unhinged and it scared me. "Then I'm just completely insane, huh?"

     Stanley pinched the bridge of his nose, and clasped his hands together. "Okay, Syd, if you honestly believe that someone was there, and they straight up fuckin' disappeared, then... I believe it, too. And Hallie does too, don't you?"

     "Um, yeah, sure." I lied. I didn't know what to believe anymore.

     "But then what if it is true? You know, that means someone's been watching me. Uh, you know, and that means..." she stared at the frozen image on the screen, striking fear into her. "That, uh, you know, maybe..."

     "Someone else knows."

***

     Sydney and I had walked home after that, considerably shaken up. The last thing we'd wanted to do was reflect on it though, and both agreed we just wanted to hit the hay. I was given something else to think about anyway, as moments before I was going to slip into bed, my phone rang. At first I was going to hang up, but the name flashing across the screen made me stop. I don't know why, but I answered it.

     "Dad?" I asked, biting my lip. Sydney eyes peered over the edge of the duvet, dozy but curious.

     "Hey, I'm sorry it's late, but I just wanted to talk," he got to the point rather quickly, which surprised me. It was followed by a hesitant, "Do you mind?"

     I glanced to Sydney for approval, and she nodded at me. "Yeah, I've got time." I said gently, locking myself into the bathroom next door so my cousin could sleep in peace. Also for some privacy, too. As I sat down on the toilet seat, I could hear him breathing softly down the phone.

     "So, how are you?"

     "I'm... okay." I answered.

     "You hesitated." Dad said, sceptically.

     "It's been a weird week. Lots of ups and downs," I admitted, surprising myself at how easily I was opening up to him. Maybe it was because he didn't sound so closed off. Rather emotional, actually. "And, um... I had another episode. First in six months."

     "Really?" his tone took on a parental concern that I craved. "When? Are you okay now?"

     "Yesterday afternoon. But yeah, I'm okay. Noted it down as always. I was with Sydney though, and she dealt with it really well."

     "Aww, that's good. Dare I say you two are growing closer?"

     "Maybe."

     "See? This getaway of ours wasn't so bad after all."

     I couldn't take this prancing around anymore. "Dad... why're you really calling?" I asked. He didn't answer for a moment, so I added, "Please. Just be honest."

     He sighed, and the quality of the sound through the speaker tingled down my ear.

     "I know that you and your mom had a little falling out yesterday. She tried calling you back last night to apologise, but apparently you kept hanging up on her."

     "Sorry, I was busy." I deadpanned. Was he really only calling to peer mediate? For fuck's sake.

     No, the angel on my shoulder told me. Give him a chance.

     "Look, I get it. She was harsh on you. Really harsh. I heard everything. But she hasn't been herself lately," he paused. "Neither of us have the past year."

     "So why do we never talk about it? Like, ever?" I implored frustratedly, sounding more desperate than anything.

     There was a long silence from the other end of the line, just a faded crackling. "Hello? Hello?" I spoke, in monotone. "Dad? Are you still there?"

     "Do you remember... that time, when you went into hospital as a kid? In the Spring, after your recital?"

     I licked my lips, holding the phone closer to my face as I tucked my knees into my chest. "Mhm," I managed in the end, a shaky breath whistling out my nose. "I do." It was one of the worst things I'd ever experienced. During that month I'd been in the emergency room every few days with a rapid heartbeat. But it was after a cello recital (which I'd insisted to still go to) that I'd collapsed with an alarmingly high heart rate of 270bpm, and was rushed to hospital. My SVT diagnosis came pretty swiftly after that.

     I heard him sniff. "They were talking about possibly giving you surgery, but we couldn't afford it. I remember I was a mess. I didn't want you to see, and I was stood outside of your room in bits. But my brother, he... he put me back together. He said to me," Dad stopped and let out a short-lived chuckle. "'Sean, stop crying. Hallie's in a lot of pain right now, and she doesn't need you blubbering by her bedside like a sissy. You need to be strong for your girl.'"

     "That sounds like something he'd say." I smiled, but my lips trembled. I didn't want to cry, not now.

     "Oh, it's classic him, alright!" he laughed, and the rawness of it struck me. I think he was crying, too. "Always putting me in my place. Which I never liked, since I was the oldest... only by a few minutes, of course, but I was the big guy and he was the baby. My baby brother."

     A tear slipped down my cheek at the words baby brother and I held my breath, still trying to hide how I was falling apart. But Dad was doing the same, he had to be. Like father like daughter.

     "I can't even begin to describe the..." he stammered, searching for a suitable word. "The numbness I felt when he passed. It was like something had been torn out of me... and I haven't really found it ever since."

     Me neither. I wiped my eyes and sniffled. I couldn't even begin how nice it was to just be frank with one another. It made my parents ten times more human to hear they had a beating heart like me.

     He continued on, as this was a catharsis of bottled emotion for him, too. "Sometimes, I feel bad that I didn't talk to him enough. That... that m-maybe I should have called him once or twice more, because who knows if that would have made a difference?"

     "Yeah," I whispered into the phone. "Me too."

"Life is just so... fragile. Isn't it?"

"It is."

     I sat in the dim light of the bathroom, huddled on the toilet seat with my father weeping into my ear as I tried to hide my own tears, being as quiet as possible with Sydney sleeping in the next room. It hurt so much, like opening up an old wound and rubbing salt deep into it... and yet, it was one of the tenderest moments I'd shared with my parent in a long time.

But even then, I still couldn't let my guard down. I don't think I ever will again.

________________________

A/N:

that last part made me get choked up whilst writing it... it's weird when your own writing makes you cry?? very weird indeed. i wrote this emotional thank-you letter to a teacher and was fine when writing it, but then read it out to my mum and i just sobbed. but ANYWAY...

being an author sometimes means you have the weirdest search history. for the scene where stan gets out some weed, i was literally googling stuff like "ways to smoke weed" and "what is a roll-up?" 😳 thank god for incognito mode, is all i'm sayin'...

song of the chapter: 'nothing's gonna hurt you baby' - cigarettes after sex
(the four laugh/do weed/are wholesome together & stan almost confesses 🤭)
^^ ANOTHER STALLIE THEME SONG!!!

published: 16th may, 2020