Racing Against the Constellations

Chapter - 22

"Nope."

She sighs. "Lemme go check on her. Wanna come?"

"Of course not." I smirk.

She rolls her eyes, leaving me alone to stare out the window again. I hear her calling, "Mom, how much longer, I'm starving! You guys doin' good?" as the flop flop of her flippers drifts off.

I let out a sigh. Hanging out at friends' places is a very normal thing. What isn't, though, is that I'm having to come here more often. Having to. I get it, Halloween celebration, tonight's case is different. Regardless, nobody wants to hang around at her friend's place literally every single day, right?

Now it's not that I don't want to spend time with her. It's just... I don't know, something is so very wrong with Franny and she has complicated it too much by not talking to me or Ada about it. I don't know how long I can take—

Thudded footsteps are returning. Turning, I see Ada tiptoeing with a large white tray in her hands, Franny skipping right behind, beaming. As Ada places the tray on the small coffee table in front of me, a warm, savory aroma fills my nostrils. I inhale contentedly, and opening my eyes, a blue bowlful of fettuccine Alfredo greets me, with chunks of shrimp embellished in rich, pristine white sauce.

Brows raised, I shoot Ada a glance. "Well, I'll be damned."

She takes one glimpse of me, and swivels toward Franny. "Fran, what the hell?"

Naturally, my brows pull together. As if to make sense of it, Ada tells me, "This woman wanted to bring the tray but almost dropped and smashed it into pieces! Good thing I caught it just in time. She was digging her nails into her arms looking all flushed up!"

Now I take a much closer look at her. Franny, hair lying in waves against her red cheeks, resonates a deer in headlights, fearing to be told off. Watching her face, I end up feeling bad instead, and ask her in a soft tone, "You sure you're okay, Fran? You can tell us... if you need any help, or..."

She lifts her head, color drifting back to her features, and forms a half-smile. "No, uh... I just hurt my arms today. Doing some hand exercises... not wanting to leave the embroidery half-done. So I can, y'know, finish one fucking thing for once." She shrugs, hugging one arm with the other over her chest. "Just wanted to help Ada, after all, she did all the cooking by herself. And well, I've always been weak anyway."

She stops as soon as her eyes fall on our bewildered expressions. That cheesy, stretched out smile pops on her tightened lips in an attempt to ease up the mood.

"Don't sell yourself so short to the point of not redeeming it again out of humbling insecurity, Frances," the words tumble out sterner than I wanted them to be, a mild frown painted across my face.

My remark doesn't affect her. She keeps on smiling like a sweet little 2 year old and pipes up, "Let's get back to business with our tummies full this time!"

Ada shoots me a worried look from the corner of her eye while Franny jumps to grab a bowl and ladle huge spoonfuls of pasta into it. It's only when she speaks up that I snap out of my trance.

"Don't blame me when Sir Fettuccine is over," she says without looking up, still pouring the food.

Ada grabs her fork. If only Franny told me what in the world happened to her, just once. Not even Ada knows a thing. How can I figure it out on my own? Is this a sick test? She knows I'm not so clever.

With our bowls, we resume from where we left. In the lavender scented candlelight, which, Franny insisted, is for the sake of setting the mood, I heave a sigh at the sight of the scribbled points in my bullet journal pages. First week activities, dorm plans, study rituals, basically a rough draft of my college routine. I'd like to be prepared than being a lost little girl in an unknown place full of party-loving lunatics.