Dedicated to kureizi_jeez for the cutest fan art anybody's ever drawn me. Check it out on the side.

-----------------------------------------

            Nora was on a mission.

            It wasn’t a military agenda, nor did the fate of the earth rest on her shoulders, but the look on her face could’ve fooled anyone. No, as she stood in front of my wardrobe, sifting through the hangers and their respective outfits with lightning speed, Nora was focused on one thing and one thing only: finding me something to wear.

            “You didn’t even think about it?” she was asking, as her fingers lingered on the fabric of a printed vest top. “Not at all?”

            “Well…” I said sheepishly, from my seat on my bed across the room. “I thought since you’d be here, you could pick me out something… you know, like you used to?”

            It was partly true. However, another reason distinctly tainted with truth was that I’d been so caught up in spending the past day and a half with Daniel, goofing off by ourselves in order to keep us out of Gram’s way, that I hadn’t even spared a thought on matters such as what I was going to wear to her long-awaited exhibit. And so, when Nora had bounded into my room late afternoon today, asking if she could borrow that gold necklace of mine she’d always liked, she’d been horrified to find me standing in front of my wardrobe without the faintest clue.

            “You know, there’s always my jeans,” I offered. “It’s not like a formal event or anything. They could work.”

            But all I got by way of response was a dismissive one-handed wave. “We can find something better,” she told me. “Something that will make Daniel do a double-take.”

            “Oh, no.” I got to my feet warily, stepping closer to where my older sister was standing. “Is that what all this is about?”

            But she was barely listening; moments later, her moving hands froze on a particular hanger. Wasting no time, she unhooked it from the rail, holding it out in front of her so that the airy fabric floated gently in the incoming breeze from the window. “This,” she said simply, her eyes skimming up and down her choice. “This is what we’re looking for.”

            It took me a while to even recognise; I couldn’t recall the last time I’d worn the dainty cream-coloured dress she was holding out, if at all. Its thick straps and sweetheart neckline flowed into an airy skirt, the entire fabric decorated by a bold floral print.

            “I didn’t even know I owned that,” I said truthfully.

            “Well, maybe you should start looking a bit harder,” Nora said, tossing me the hanger. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve got a stash of Prada handbags in the back of there you don’t even know about.”

            “That’d be nice,” I murmured, but most of my attention was captured by the dress. It did look like it might be sort of flattering, which was something of a miracle when it came to my plain figure. But I was tall enough to get away without heels, and I could always do something with my hair…

            “Come on, then, try it on,” Nora egged me on. “I want to see how it looks.”

            I did as she said, wriggling out of my jeans and pulling the dress over my head right there on the spot. And when I’d tugged it over my hips, Nora stepping in to assist with the zipper at the back, I wondered why I heard a sharp intake of breath when I spun around to face her again.

            “What?” I asked, frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

            “God, Flo,” she said. There was a strange expression painted across her features – one I couldn’t quite fathom. “You look so pretty.”

            I went to shrug off the compliment, but the feeling of Nora’s hands on my shoulders stopped me, and I realised she was steering me towards the mirror on the wardrobe door. I thought it was a bit strange – I’d only pulled on a dress, after all – but the moment my eyes landed on the reflection that blinked back at me, the reasoning behind Nora’s reaction became the slightest bit clearer.

            It was flattering, but even more than I’d thought so whilst it was on the hanger. Though I could definitely have lived with another couple of centimetres around the waist to breathe more comfortably, the fit was fine – even giving the illusion that I had slightly more boob than what may have been true. And even though the effect may not have been as striking as it was to Nora, I knew what she was talking about: with soft curls framing my freckled face, five-foot-eight above the ground in a delicate dress, I did feel… pretty.

            “Daniel won’t be able to take his eyes off you if you wear that,” she commented with a smirk.

            “Shut up,” I told her, but I was smiling too.

            There was a slight pause, and the way that Nora continued looking at me, an expression of knowing curling her lips at the edges, indicated that the tone of conversation was becoming more serious. “You really, really like him, don’t you?” she asked.

            It took a moment for the words to form on my lips; they’d been buzzing around in my head for so long the journey out was a delayed process. “Yeah,” I breathed eventually, it almost tasting sweet on my tongue. “I mean, I know I don’t really know anything, but… I think it could be it, you know?” I shook my head. “Maybe I’m just crazy. I don’t know.”

            “You’re not crazy.” Her voice was equally as quiet, the background noise of the room seeming to have dropped into negative figures. “I mean, looking at you two… you rarely see anything like it. The way you seem to get each other. I don’t think it’s so crazy at all.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah. You know, I never expected for you to be so… at home here in Walden. I was worried you’d have trouble settling in. But seeing you here now… well, it’s like it’s more your home than our flat ever was.”

            And though it hadn’t really occurred properly to me before, it did then. Nora was right; when I thought of our old apartment, in the smelly block whose stairs seemed to get steeper with every climb, just down the street from the multiplex cinema, it seemed years away. And, if I was back there, I knew I’d be forever yearning for the faint noise of the ocean from my window, the sleepy summer evenings spent effortlessly wandering around the town I’d come to know so well, and the friends like no other.

            I was here now. And, finally, I was home.

***

            Gram, it seemed, had turned into some sort of local celebrity overnight.

            I had guessed the opening of her exhibition would be big news amongst her circle of friends, but, as evident by the sight of the gallery when I stepped inside that evening, I had underestimated the diameter of said circle. What seemed like the entire population of Walden was crammed into the Picture Perfect gallery – and that was half an hour before the event’s official start. The news had spread like wildfire, meaning Nora and I had to elbow our way through a mildly dense throng before we could even get inside the door.

            As soon as I felt the blast of air conditioning on my face, indicating we were properly inside the building, the gradual onset of self-consciousness began to work its way in. My legs felt exposed, the length of the dress seeming suddenly much shorter than it had stood in front of my bedroom mirror. And even with a cardigan over my shoulders, the neckline of the dress left too much of my collarbone on show – especially with my hair pulled back into a bun of Nora’s handiwork.

            I swallowed, forcing myself to conquer the fear that people were looking. They weren’t, really. Of course, they were much too taken with the selection of artwork lining the gallery walls to pay me a slither of attention.

            And that was the way I wanted it to stay.

            “Relax,” I heard Nora say beside me. Either she’d read my mind, or just my nervous energy. “You look fine.”

            It was only then, less conscious of myself, that I really took notice of the array of paintings dotted around the room. Each was surrounded by their own mini-crowd, the hordes of admiring compliments bouncing right off the canvas. I couldn’t see the minor details from here, but their main features were clear enough. They were all of Walden; that was the first thing that occurred to me. Each separate image took the form of something I now recognised easily, though wouldn’t have been able to place several weeks previously.

            But these weren’t ordinary representations of the town outside the door; instead, each had been painted with the colours of a palette that had been enhanced in brightness, so the whole collection shone in glorious Technicolor. The effect was striking.

            “Wow,” I heard Nora breathe beside me, echoing my own thoughts. “She did a good job, didn’t she?”

            “Yeah.” My focus was scattered, eyes unsuccessfully trying to take in every sight at once. “She really did.”

            Though my first instinct was to get as close as possible to each painting, to take in their every detail like only an artist would, the anticipation of everything seemed to be having an effect on my bladder. There was a toilet sign towards the back of the room, and I leaned in towards Nora.

            “I’ll be back in a sec,” I told her. “Just heading to the loo.”

            “’Kay. I’ll catch up with you in a bit; I’ve got to see where Lenny’s got to with Summer. He’s probably having trouble with the car seat again.”

            With the agreement sealed to find her again as soon as possible – apparently she was dying to meet my new friends, a situation that could really only end in embarrassment on my end – I wove my way through the crowd, heading for the corridor at the back of the room. The ladies’ was the first door on the right, and the cool air I was greeted with as I stepped inside was more welcome than I’d expected. The sheer volume of people packed into the gallery’s small space was sending the temperature soaring, and I was beginning to wonder why I’d even bothered with a cardigan in the first place.

            Once the foremost matter was taken care of, I found myself standing in front of the mirror above the sink, staring blankly at my reflection. It was almost surreal; the girl that blinked back at me, with soft curls pulled together neatly on the top of her head, and muddy brown eyes that seemed brighter than usual, did not register as me. I wasn’t used to seeing myself like this: preened and delicate and, for lack of a better word, pretty.

            And for once, as I studied my reflection, I found no trace of the broken lines of my past, the slightly mismatching shards that constituted my insides. For three years I’d remained convinced they were visible to everybody, impossible to conceal with even the thickest make-up or the blankest expression, but standing there, I realised this wasn’t the case.

            I was okay.

            My thoughts were interrupted when the sound of the door clattering open echoed throughout the room, startling me slightly. I whirled around to face whoever had joined me, the flicker of recognition only kicking in when I caught sight of the cropped brunette style and kohl-rimmed eyes.

            “Collette,” I said.

            “Oh, Flo! Hi,” she responded easily, once my presence had registered. As soon as it did, her eyes dropped to my outfit, preparing to deliver her wordless opinion. Except this time it wasn’t so wordless. “Wow. I love the dress. You made an effort, didn’t you?”

            “Well, I…” I trailed off. “It was just something Nora picked out, really.”

            “Still. Looks great.” She smiled genuinely.

            “Thanks. And you too, of course.” She looked utterly striking, but was there ever a time when she didn’t? Even alone in her room that evening a week ago, when she’d crumpled under the pressure like a piece of paper, the word ‘mess’ hadn’t seemed anywhere near fitting for Collette. It was as if her make-up had run in dainty, symmetrical lines down her face – she wasn’t the unattractive, red-nosed crier I was. Tonight, in a flowing maxi dress that grazed the tip of shoes, she was at her usual standard, and I knew she’d receive almost as much attention as Gram’s artwork itself.

            She shrugged off my compliment, laughing as if I’d made a joke, but there was something in the way she strode over to the adjacent mirror I couldn’t help but pick up on. Maybe it was how she seemed to have stood up a little straighter, or that tiny twinkle in her eye, as if injected by a minor dose of confidence that somehow made all the difference.

            “You know, your gram’s amazing for doing all of this,” she said, rummaging inside her handbag until she finally presented a coral-coloured lipstick. “Those paintings out there are crazy good. She’s really talented.”

            “I know.”

            “I mean,” she continued, “it must be good if my parents have turned out. They don’t make the effort for just anybody.”

            I looked back over at her as I washed my hands, wondering if the question on the tip of my tongue lay in safe territory. “Did Beth…?”

            Surprisingly, though, Collette didn’t even flinch at the mention of her sister’s name. It was almost as if she’d blocked her out completely, erecting up a firm mental wall between herself and the girl at the heart of her problems. “She’s gone,” she answered, quickly and simply. “She left the other evening. Packed her bags and set off on a flight to Italy the same night, taking Angelo with her. She’s gone for the rest of the summer. Maybe even indefinitely.”

            “Oh,” I said. I shouldn’t have been surprised, really; the behaviour was nothing but typical of Beth. “That’s…”

            “A relief,” Collette finished for me, lowering the lipstick and puckering in the mirror. “Yeah. Things are definitely a lot easier around the house without her there trying to cause trouble. And she’ll be having the time of her life over there. Probably planning some extravagant Italian wedding.”

            “Well, that’s not all bad,” I told her. “I mean, it’s an excuse for a holiday if you get an invitation, right?”

            “Yeah.” The ghost of a smile was curling the corners of her lips: something I hadn’t expected to see whilst the topic of conversation revolved around her older sister. “I think I can probably cope with that.”

***

            When Collette and I made our way out of the loos, into the stuffy warmth of the gallery showroom, it didn’t take me long to spot our group of friends amongst the crowd. Preoccupied with searching to see if Daniel’s head was hidden somewhere amongst Freya’s blonde and Erin’s startling violet, I almost didn’t notice who they happened to be with – or, more specifically, whose baby carrier the four of them were bent over.

            “Oh God,” I murmured. I was already doing the mental calculation; in exactly how many minutes I’d spent with Collette, how many opportunities would Nora have had to say something to embarrass me? The answer wasn’t really something I wanted to think too hard about. “They’ve already found Nora and Lenny.”

            “Your sister?” Collette asked, to which I nodded.

            By that time, we’d already reached the group, receiving something of an enthusiastic greeting from all six of them. Almost immediately Erin straightened up, pushing a strand of hair from her face and looking over at me.

            “Flo,” she started. “Why didn’t you tell me you had the most adorable niece ever?”

            “I… sorry?”

            “Hey,” she said, only seeming to really notice my appearance at that moment. “Nice dress. If that one’s not for my brother, I don’t know what is.”

            “I don’t—” I started to protest, but in my peripheral vision I could already see Jay and Scott smirking and knew there was absolutely no point in trying to convince anyone otherwise. “Where is Daniel, anyway?”

            “Missing your lover?” Jay started puckering exaggeratedly then, inching in closer toward me. I rolled my eyes, shoving his arm playfully, but all he did was laugh at my meek attempt at retaliation.

            Erin shrugged. “Haven’t got the foggiest, to be honest. He disappeared off as soon as we got here. I didn’t even get a chance to ask him where he was going.”

            “I saw him talking to your gram earlier,” Jay chipped in, “but I didn’t get the chance to speak to them, and I haven’t seen either of them since.”

            “Maybe he’s just helping her out,” Scott suggested. Somehow, he’d end up stood tactfully next to Collette, his eyes sneaking over in her direction every so often. It wasn’t exactly the most inconspicuous of moves, but she seemed oblivious anyway.

            Suddenly, as if wanting to provide her own input to the discussion, our ears were met by the sound of a mild whimpering emanating from Summer’s carrier. This, however, didn’t last for more than a few seconds; once that marker had passed, the whining promptly became full-blown, ear-splitting wailing.

            Summer’s lungs must’ve been tiny, but boy, could they make some noise.

            “You’ve got the changing bag, haven’t you?” Nora was saying to Lenny, shifting the baby carrier hooked onto her forearm. Though her voice was a normal volume, it was a wonder he could hear a word she was saying; Summer’s screaming was almost blocking out any other noise within a twenty-metre radius.

            “Yeah, it’s right here,” Lenny said, sliding the bag off his shoulder. “You want me to get it?”

            “It’s alright, I’ll come with you. I think we might need moral support on this one.”

            And with that, they were off – scuttling in the direction of the loos while Nora shot apologetic looks at the people who were now staring. The noise diminished as increasing distance found its way between them and us, but Summer’s cries were in no way hushed even when they’d disappeared around the corner, out of sight.

            “Still think she’s the most adorable niece ever?” I challenged Erin.

            “Well, not ever…” she said, scrunching up her nose. “I mean, top ten… maybe?”

            “Yeah, I thought so.”

            Our conversation was interrupted at that point, cut short by loud screeching feedback from a microphone elsewhere in the room. Following suit and clamping hands over my ears to block out the noise, my attention swivelled with everybody else’s to the front of the gallery.

            The feedback dried up and I released my hands just as my eyes locked onto Gram, positioned at the front of the room. She stood in front of a large white sheet, covering something mounted on the wall behind that was obviously about to be revealed. Of course, it was the centrepiece of her collection – the thing she’d waited months to unveil to the Walden public. It had been so secretive that even I didn’t have the faintest clue what lay under the white fabric, and we’d been living under the same roof since the beginning of the summer.

            “Evening, everybody,” she began, her voice projected around the room.

            She was such a small woman – at least five inches shorter than me, and petite all round – but standing there, at the head of the showcase she’d been working on for months on end, she looked stronger and more confident than I’d ever seen her before. Her tiny frame seemed somehow above the rest of the crowd, even though in reality, a great deal of the guests could pat her on the head with ease. My best guess was that it had something to do with the fact she was surrounded by the peak of her pride and joy, showered with nothing but solid praise, that added inches to her height.

            It was remarkable.

            “First things first – I want to thank you all for being here tonight. It means so much to me that you’ve all turned out to show your support, and to see everything come together like this… well, it’s really something.”

            A ripple of assent went through the attentive crowd, filling a pause before Gram started speaking again.

            “Now, you’ve probably all worked out that the main theme of my collection is Walden-on-Sea. This very town has been my home for over ten years now, and I have to say this: in that time, it’s become my favourite place in the world. There’s just this whole community of people who are among the most welcoming I’ve ever met, and I’ve never felt so at home anywhere else. So much so that when I pick up a paintbrush, I can’t imagine myself capturing anything in paint and canvas other than this town.

            “See, I know you’re all expecting something spectacular under this sheet. On that one, I won’t disappoint. It’s just… well, it’s not what you think. Put it that way.”

            “What is she talking about?” Erin leaned in to murmur, as a wave of similar questioning swept through various points of the gallery audience. “Do you know what’s under there?”

            “No clue,” I whispered back. “The whole thing’s been top secret business.”

            “I’ll make a confession – on this one, I had a bit of help. And so, to help me with this whole ‘grand unveiling’ business,” Gram continued, “I’ve enlisted some help. Daniel?”

            It was then that the guy in question stepped forward, approaching the covered spectacle and smiling as he did so. He looked as he always did; there was that half-smile always curling his upper lip, the hair that was never quite cooperative enough to stay put in a neat style, the hazel eyes that seemed bright underneath the gallery spotlights. He seemed to be scanning the crowd, looking for someone in particular.

            It didn’t click that it was me until his gaze locked on my own, and he shot me a heart-melting grin that proved much more difficult to gather the composure to return.

            “There’s something different about this one. In fact, technically, you could say that it’s not even a part of this collection at all. But to me, it is. Because while this particular piece may not seem like it fits in alongside all the others, it’s perhaps the most important one of all.”

            What was going on? I wasn’t able to make it out. The words that spilled from Gram’s moving lips were cryptic; I was sure I couldn’t have been the only one in the room lacking the faintest hint as to what she was talking about. Even in Daniel’s gaze I could spot a look of knowing, something above the confusion of the rest of the audience, that I couldn’t put my finger on. All I could do was smile back at him in response and hope things were about to become clearer.

            “At the start of the summer, my granddaughter, Flo, came to live with me. See, at first, she may not have thought that Walden was the place for her. I could tell that. But in the short time that she’s been here, I’ve watched her grow to love the place. And that’s something that makes me happier than you could ever imagine.

            “So, while I was working on this collection, I couldn’t help thinking it felt… incomplete. There was something missing, even if I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It took me longer than it should’ve to figure out – I even had to have a little bit of help, and that’s where Daniel here comes in. Without him, I don’t think I would’ve even come up with this at all. But I came to realise that my vision of Walden-on-Sea had changed. After this summer, I can’t imagine the place without Flo – so what would a collection of it be if it didn’t contain at least an essence of her?”

            By now, everybody was looking at me; that much I could figure out from the stone-cold effect their gazes were having, even if I refused to look directly back myself. My eyes remained glued to the front of the room, flickering between Gram and Daniel with some sort of painful regularity. But I couldn’t help myself: suddenly the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, aligning themselves automatically into shapes that would allow them all to fit. I could see them about to click into place, and all I could do was pray desperately that my inkling was mistaken. There had to be one tiny fault, something that would stop it all coming together in the way it looked like it was going to.

            “And so, I present to you the final piece of the collection,” Gram said. She gestured towards Daniel, who shot me one last smile before beginning to pull away the sheet from what it was concealing. “The final touch. The essence of Flo.”

            And then it happened.

            The sinking dread that had coursed through my veins with Gram’s every word moulded into one in that moment – the resultant effect was a storming wave of horror that swept over me with such force I almost stumbled physically backwards. It was like the action of removing the sheet happened in ultra-slow motion; I could see every miniscule shift of fabric, all coming together in a movement that left me completely and utterly exposed.

            There they were: the angels, right in front of me.

            Blown up on a canvas twice their original size, they were in plain sight for everybody to see. There was nothing between them and us – nothing to stop anyone from picking up on each soft brunette curl of the female’s locks, nothing to stop people noticing the individual freckles on the male’s nose and the care with which they’d been painted. Every little detail was there, replicated perfectly on their journey from my head to huge, public canvas.

            I couldn’t breathe.

            My lungs refused to fill up with air; my chest refused to go through the motions to get the air there in the first place. I was drowning, somehow drowning, stood in the middle of a room that contained not a trace of water.

            This couldn’t be happening. How could this be happening? Those angels were supposed to be under my bed, safely shielded from the prying eyes of anybody but me. But somehow – somehow – they’d ended up beneath the eyes of almost everybody in Walden, uncovered and ultimately exposed. I could feel the tangible scrutiny of the dozens of pairs of eyes all around me, tainting the image, twisting it into something that wasn’t meant to be. The angels were morphing right before me, and for the first time, I  had no control over it.

            I wasn’t sure I even had control over my thoughts anymore.

            “Holy crap.” The words were whispered from somewhere beside me; I couldn’t bring myself to distinguish who exactly the voice belonged to. “That’s amazing.”

            But I couldn’t hear it. The words were audible, but they had no meaning; my brain refused to process them into a form I could understand. The only thing I could think over the roaring in my ears was that I needed to get out. I needed to be out of there, and I needed it with such stinging desperation that it felt as if my life depended on it.

            I spun on my heel and began shoving my way through the crowd, unconcerned by the trivial matters of who exactly I was pushing. The stares of the crowd were burning holes into my back, my front, every single inch of me, but all that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other and making my way towards the gallery’s exit. Those double doors were the only things that stood between overwhelming terror and a chance at relief. I hadn’t wanted something so desperately in years.

            Voices were shouting my name somewhere behind me; perhaps the most prominent was the male’s I recognised even over the commotion as belonging to Daniel. By now, I was outside, the feeling of cold air on my skin a total shock to the senses. I barely made it a few steps before I wobbled, my emotional control faltering the same time as my balance did.

            The tears were already streaming down my face when I felt the hand on my shoulder, forcing me to turn around. Through a blurred haze of tears, I could make out the fragmented features of Daniel’s face, looking down at me with the utmost confusion and concern.

            “Flo,” he began, but the sound of my name spoken by his voice was sufficient to shock me back to reality.

            His touch was repulsive, and I recoiled, a throbbing in my head now accompanying the tears. “No,” I snapped. “Get away from me.”

            “Flo, listen—”

            “No!” I yelled, much too loudly. “For God’s sake, Daniel, just leave me alone!”

            And this time, even I heard the finality in my tone.

--------------------------

There we go. So, um. I just ripped everything apart, didn't I? Yeah... sorry about that one. It had to be done. As stated in the summary, "being on top of the world only gives you further to fall", right? Haha. But it's super long, and I'm 2 days away from an exam, so you've got to cut me some slack.

Love you guys. Oh, and if any of you are super talented drawers like that on the side, please draw me some fan-art. It is the cutest thing ever.