Chapter 17: How to Make Sense of All This


 Molly and Clifford were flummoxed when they saw the additional car parked in their driveway, Celeste's car. Stefan and Aimee moseyed past Gavin's car door; he was putting sunglasses into his cubbyhole with one hand and was clasping the steering wheel with the spare. Then, Aimee and Stefan joined her parents on the porch. She was anxious to see what their reactions would be towards their new guest. She knocked, and soon after, Celeste opened the door with a discordant and unwilling aura, but she wired her spine instantly and endeavoured a smile, directed at Aimee's parents. They however, were not as coerced into kindness as Celeste wanted them to be. They cringed at the sight of her. They remembered her from that fancy French diner, despite her new appearance.

Aimee swiftly sensed their hostility and, for some reason, felt the need to intervene. She introduced the three and watched as they stiffly shook hands.

"Celeste offered to clean and housesit if we let her live here with us," Aimee bravely explained.

"We're opening our home to kidnappers now?!" shrieked Molly.

Stefan cleared his throat, "Can we explain everything at suppertime?"

"Well someone'd better start cooking!"

"What are you doing?" asked Celeste, baffled.

"Would you keep quiet – I'm trying to help you," she murmured through her teeth as her parents stepped into the house with heavy feet.

"I know that," Celeste whispered dutifully, and then she sighed, speaking no further.

They heard another voice approach the door, "I let Mitchel know we'd be here for the rest of the even–" his words became slower, and then ceased entirely.

"Gavin, this is –"

"Jane."

"Jane?" whispered Aimee, her eyebrows magnetised towards each another. "No, this is... Celeste Williams." The girl in question stood gritting her teeth subconsciously.

Gavin shook his head as to bring himself back to his senses, "Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"Yeah, no worries."

A silence followed that. Uncomfortable, wandering expressions appeared on their faces. That was when Stefan had to remind them once again about dinner.

Celeste and Gavin both eagerly volunteered to cook, while Aimee's parents showered the dirt from the day off their bodies. She and Stefan sat on the living room couch to talk about GINM and AIM. A conversation they would probably repeat once the food that they smelt was precisely cooked and dished onto Molly's porcelain china. Stefan told Aimee about the RDAs, that they were created for teenagers with absentee or deceased parents.

"Valerie and Finn come from a wealthy family line, so when their parents died, they left them their fortune. But instead of staying in Mullingar, they came to America to join GINM. They wanted to be more than just rich kids. They wanted to make a difference in the world."

"Are there children in the Ranked Division?"

"Our youngest RDA is a girl named Kimiko Kei from Japan. She's been studying martial arts for years and she's only thirteen. She has blue highlights in her hair."

"I saw her," Aimee said in remembrance.

She was the girl at the screen, watching the rankings. She was second place. She was good.

"Stefan, I'm so sorry about how I was in The Arena, I shouldn't have said what I did. You weren't in my way, just... I don't know, I-I wanted to be independent for once. I've been extremely immature since I met you, because you allow me to be. You're always getting yourself hurt because of me," she glanced at his leg, where his jeans seemed abnormally thicker. She laid her hand on his.

He smiled at her like an exultant little boy, "I forgive you, and I understand but..." – his smile subsided so that she knew he was being earnest – "I need you to know that I'm here for you and that I'll protect you because, more than anything, I want to."

Stefan's words fluttered around her, encircled her, when he took a nervous breath. She watched as his lips came closer to hers, and she felt that warm tingling in her belly, but it fled with haste when Celeste sauntered in.

"Aimee, where can I find the onions?" she asked, holding a spatula in her hand.

Stefan and Aimee had already separated with uncloaked discomfiture.

"The cabinet to the left of the fridge," she said, and her cheeks were tinted raspberry.

Celeste thanked her quickly, already halfway out of the room and on her way to back to the kitchen. Aimee stared at the doorway until she was sure she was gone. Her eyes returned to Stefan and she chuckled, her cheeks paled like bottled molasses.

Stefan laughed, "Another time?"

They shared a smile and continued their conversation. Aimee spoke first, even though her mind was still imagining kissing him.

"How exactly did Valerie and Finn become RDAs?"

"Every RDA has to audition before they're ranked and can begin training, so that we can see what they can and cannot already do," he explained. "They had to display their every ability to qualify – Valerie was doing front- and backflips in the air, superfast pirouettes and cartwheels, you name it. She used to be a ballerina back in Mullingar, but I know she didn't learn all of her skills from ballet classes. Finn's always been agile and very stealthy, and he's also good at cartwheels and spinning in the air. They're both extremely talented."

She could see it. She could see Valerie spinning like some sort of ninja, her hair all messy when she lands, but she would still look effortlessly beautiful. Finn would stun the judges, landing on one leg without hurting himself, and then saying something like, "I learned all of that from SoulCalibur."

"What about Dominick?"

"I didn't see his audition. No one really knows much about him except that he was born in Siberia, came here two years back, and is strong and fast. How we even became friends is still beyond me. I think he just decided one day that he had less uncommon with me than with other agents," he smiled.

Aimee noticed the dimples in his cheeks for the first time, accompanied by the sparkle in his sapphire eyes when he smiled. She smiled, too.

"What about Gavin?" she queried softly because she knew that he might hear, even if he was in the next room.

"Gavin... uhm... he used to... well, he trained as... he was an AIM agent."

"What?" her eyes displayed the disbelief that struck her. "For how long?"

"It was a long time ago."

He felt a strange uneasiness talking about it. Like he was betraying his friend, letting her know something dark about him, his own secret, but it was Aimee. She could know – what would she do, hate him? Still, that was as much as he was willing to say; it was not his tale to tell and Aimee had to respect that. She sighed in wonder and slouched back on the couch, her one leg crossed beneath the other.

In the kitchen, Gavin and Celeste were chopping veg and tossing spices like Tepanyaki chefs. The counters were a mess of various ingredients. Once they had what they needed in a pot or pan, Celeste cleaned up. Every now and again, Gavin's eyes would ignore his cooking and watch her. He believed she was someone else. He had the strongest feeling about it.

Upstairs, Molly and Clifford had been clothing themselves in something more dinner appropriate. They came downstairs just in time to help the others set up. When the placemats, cutlery and glasses were all arranged, Gavin and Celeste brought the food to the table. Stefan pulled out Aimee's chair for her and pushed it in again, and Molly nudged Clifford for being discourteous in comparison, even though she was already sitting down.

Aimee said grace, "Dear Lord, thank You for my blessings: the food before me, my family and my extended family eating with me tonight. I pray that You give me the strength and the capability to do what I have to this year. Please, be with me and with the people sitting next to me, the RDAs and GINM agents that are willing to help me through this," – Molly furrowed her eyebrows in confusion – "and I hope that we may still live our lives fully. Uhm, bless this food into our bodies and may our bodies return to You. I pray this in Jesus' name... Amen."

"Amen," Celeste, Stefan and Gavin echoed her.

Her hands dropped onto the table and shakily grabbed her knife and fork. She dug into the dish: an original lasagne. After her first bite, she complimented the chefs with a delighted sigh. Everyone watched her, barely acknowledging their food.

She was hiding from the purpose of the dinner.

"Aimee," whispered Stefan, knowing she would stop her action. His eyes gestured to Molly and Clifford. They were awaiting explanation.

"But I'm eating," she mumbled.

He held her left wrist intentionally, the one next to him, and she laid her fork onto the table. He held her hand snuggly; he knew that would soothe her, and she took a deep breath, another, and then she was ready to tell them what they had to know.

It was about time. They deserved to know.

"I didn't go to Kirkwood's after the game on Saturday... Stefan's dad kidnapped me –"

"Excuse me?" cried Molly, shooting the boy a piercing stare.

Clifford choked on his vocal chords while Celeste leaned on the table, waiting for the worst. Gavin had no idea Aimee had been kidnapped, but he was hardly surprised – Buckley would do that.

"But they didn't hurt me!" she continued speedily. "They took me to GINM, the organisation we were just at, they own it. They..." she looked at Stefan briefly, "protect people?"

"We create advanced eco-technology, and we train agents to prevent organisations or social groups from threatening human or animal habitats," he enunciated. "We also help young people who've lost their parents and have nowhere to go."

"They're the good guys," she emphasised, absorbing the information for the first time herself. "But they have an enemy: an organisation called AIM, named after me. My mother runs it." Molly hugged Clifford's arm, looking at him with worry and angst. "She's threatening to destroy America if I keep living here, instead of with her."

Clifford's gaze diverted to his plate as Molly wiped her tears from her cheeks and eyelids with one hand. She could not wrap her head around this information, and a part of her guessed that she was only crying because it sounded so insane. She found it hard to determine whether Aimee was telling the truth or if she had lost her mind. But if it was all true, Molly was going to lose hers.

"Then why would they allow you to be adopted?" asked Clifford, finally his words left his throat.

"They... we thought they were dead. I don't quite understand it. But if I don't go to France –"

"France?!" her parents chorused like she'd announced she was pregnant and were hoping she could change her mind.

"AIM is in Lorient, and they want me to live there with them," she faltered, her voice creaked like an unoiled door hinge.

Stefan was now wrapping both his hands around hers as she hanged her head, stared at her plate. Clifford and Molly addressed her caringly.

She looked up again. "I didn't injure my wrist at school, I was in a bike accident, and that's how Stefan got his leg cast. All because I didn't listen to you when you said I should wait for Cliff. And the day I chose to walk home, it was because he was in the hospital and I really wanted to visit him. I spent my allowance buying him lilies."

"Sorry I couldn't keep those."

"It's okay," she whispered, kissing his cheek before redirecting to her parents. "I met Abba, my mother, when Gavin flew us to France. On the way back, I fell asleep, so he had to carry me," she gave him a kind smile, and when she spoke again, for a while she was still looking at him. "And he saved us from AIM America, the people who ambushed us at that restaurant. I've lied to you a lot. And I'm so sorry."

"What do you plan on doing?" queried Molly.

"I have to train at GINM if I want to stand a chance against Abba. I'll fight her."

"And I'll be with you when it comes to that," Stefan promised.

"So will I," Gavin agreed.

Molly sat straight in her chair and decided her next, utterly shocking remark, "Then, we'll help you."

She'd surprised everyone except Clifford, who nodded strongly in agreement. Aimee would have squeezed them both if not for the dinner table between them, but she could smile – teeth and all. Molly wanted to support her in this, the one who thought her playing soccer made her the kind of daredevil child that would jump off the roof of a building if influenced to – Aimee had jumped out of a window, maybe Molly was right. She wanted to help her go to France and beat more than sense into her birthmother.

"We'll make arrangements with Buckley tomorrow, he might let you train with us, Mr. and Mrs. Griffiths," said Gavin, wearing a toothy smile himself. "Can we just eat now?" he laughed and they did, too.

The food had cooled down, but it was still warm enough to enjoy. After a while, the laughter subsided, and the only audible sounds were those of their timid chewing and the cutlery that scraped their plates. Aimee squeezed Stefan's sweaty hand and shared his smile. They tried to ignore the torturously gloomy air over them, and it became gradually easier with each forkful of lasagne.

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