When the Clouds Fell

Chapter 8.1: In Which Three People Are Fatally Injured

Karen deliberated over her jewellery a bit more, holding things up against her navy blue swing dress in an effort to find something that went with it. Hayden fixed his wool tie, checking the reflection of his cobalt suit in the car's windows. Vince tried to shove a granola bar into the pocket of his lime green waistcoat.

"You know what?" En said, "I'm sticking back for a bit."

"What?" Hayden frowned. "That wasn't the plan."

"There's been a change, okay? I'm the oldest, what I say goes."

The three opened their mouths to argue, but instead winded up making silent gestures of protest.

She waved them off, bidding them to get to the party already while she clambered over the cup holder into the middle seat, propping her ankle boots on it. She watched Derek open his program and begin scanning the outer cameras of the surrounding buildings for any signs of Marie. En tugged a lock of her spiral curled hair, picking invisible lint from her lace bodice and smoothing down her champagne-coloured tulle skirt.

Their dark circles were no joke. Even through the layers of concealer, Derek's and her own were still discernible.

"Well, now that we're alone and not worrying our hair off," Derek took a moment to look at her, the teal light from his screen pulsing on his face, "what do you want to talk about?"

En chuckled, lifting her box of jewels and making it float before her, its contents spilling out. "Are you sure you aren't Telepathic?"

"It's a twin thing," he said. "Now, spit."

So, she did. She told her brother about all the things that had been bothering her. She told him about how all this distressing was making her lose weight and that she did not like seeing her wrist bone. She told him that the welt on Karen's leg had gone down, but still looked a long way from healing. She told him that Vince was acting strange and she had an inkling of a feeling about what was up, but did not want to admit it out loud.

She reminded him of the lonely days they spent together with Noah, huddled beneath a blanket tent, reading books under a flashlight. She recalled the time they had gone fishing for their seventh birthday and five-year-old Noah had cried because the squirming worms had terrified him. She admitted to the darkening evening that she missed her little brother, or rather, she missed the person he used to be.

Derek listened to all she said without a word, typing commands occasionally but remaining still most of the time. His straw-blond hair was slicked back, the ends just above the collar of his grey coat. It struck En as she spoke how totally different they were in appearance. And how totally similar she and Noah were.

"When will we tell Karen and Vince about," she swallowed the thickness in her throat down, "Mum and Dad?"

"When they're ready," Derek said.

"What about us?" En brought her knees up, balancing the heels of her shoes on the leather seat. "When will we be ready?"

His eyes flicked up, behind wire rimmed lenses. "I don't think we ever will be."

A veil of melancholy dropped over En, stinging her eyes in its descent. She disliked the feeling but could not push it aside like she usually did. It clung to her, wrapping itself around her in a shroud of unhappiness.

"I hate this," En muttered, taking a silver bracelet from the air and clasping it on. "I hate feeling sad, I hate missing him, and I hate keeping so many secrets."