The Imperfect Whistles of the Wind

three

The only thing worse than the exclusion, was the pity, which Aven seemed to receive an abundance of. If she wasn't being called out for being insane, she was looked at as a poor lost soul, abandonned and helpless.

That's why she felt an impending sense of dread when Heather and Brooklyn sat at her table, their faces full of remorse. Aven looked down at her spaghetti.

Brooklyn tapped her nails against the table, and waited impatiently for Aven to look up. She never did. Instead, she stabbed at a meatball with great force.

Heather broke the silence. "You're gonna have to talk to us sometime you know Ave."

"We'll just see about that." Aven examined her noodles, not once breaking her concentration.

Brooklyn snatched the fork out of her hand. "Would you look up for a sec?"

Feeling cornered, Aven lifts her head, and takes in the stares of the girls sitting before her, and watches as her best friends become strangers, with every passing second.

"What the hell's going on with you? First we hear you're being restrained in your bed at home because you've descended into madness, next you wreck your car in the middle of the night, and now..." Heather's voice trails off, as if she's searching for the right words.

"You're in Shiloh's nutcase club?" Brooklyn finishes, not bothering to sugar coat it. That was Brooklyn all right. No games, no bull.

"It's not a nutcase club. Its really-"

"Listen," Brooklyn interjected. "Any club, organization, or event ran by that insane bitch is loaded with nutcases. I swear she's tripping on acid every time I see her."

Heather bit her pinkie feeling uncomfortable. Although she was what could only be described as a instigator, she was in a way the peaceful one. She was famous for avoiding the problems she often created for herself.

Brooklyn was another story. She was ruthless, and she gave you the promise of a premature death if you were dumb enough to challenge her. Brooke reduced her enemies into mere pieces, their social life ruined, their mental health on the verge of unstable. Brooklyn Harding wasn't just a force to be reckoned with. She was the force to be reckoned with.

Despite herself, Aven found herself saying, "You know, she's not even that bad. She's not even as messed up as people think."

Heather and Brooklyn shared a look, and Aven somewhat regretted defending Shiloh's honour.

"Uh, anyway, as you've probably heard, Seth Maxwell is having a huge party next Friday, you're going right?" Heather asked. "We need to catch up with you."

The girls leaned forward expectantly, awaiting Aven's answer.

She was prepared to say 'Of course! Wouldn't miss it for the world! Anything for my girls!', but Aven found that the words were stuck in her throat.

She didn't want to sit next to the keg, gossiping about Serena Webb's recent sexcapades, or speculating on whether or not Jason McCain's actually a closet gay.

Aven felt her legs moving from underneath her, bringing her to her feet. "You guys will never understand." She heard herself say.

Heather raised an eyebrow and Brooklyn let out a confused laugh. She threw her head back and looks at her former best friend, amused. "Understand what Ave? We've been there for you and we're still here for you."

Aven put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. She notices Brooklyn's taken aback. It's not every day she's challenged, and it's definitely more than rare for either Aven or Heather to stand up to her. It's unheard of.