Dear Celia

IV

*Contains mature language.

She stood in front of me looking the same as she did when I left her two hours ago. There was ink on her fingers, so she must have just left Haven's. Slung over her arm was my gray jacket that I suddenly remembered leaving on the floor of Haven's.

"Lucas! Hey," Celia said. "I was just going over to your house to return your jacket." Her voice sounded completely normal and dread blossomed in the pit of my stomach. Celia was the last person I wanted to see after my argument with Noelle.

"Hi," I squeezed out. My voice was raspy and dry from crying, and Celia definitely didn't miss that.

"Are you... are you okay, Lucas?" She stepped closer to me, close enough so that I could see her green eyes clearly and the wave of her dark hair.

But that also meant she could see me.

I instantly turned my head away when I heard her take a breath.

"What happened? Aren't you supposed to be eating dinner with your sister?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, then shook my head. "No." I shoved my fingers into my hair and pulled at the strands. "I don't know. I can't go back home, Celia. I don't know what-" I shook my head again. "I can't."

I thought of Noelle screaming those words at me again. "You definitely didn't do anything that night." She might as well have just said I let my mom die.

The emotion must have appeared on my face because Celia suddenly stepped forward and reached out with her hand, though she didn't actually touch me. "Hey," she said softly. "That's alright. You can come with me."

I didn't question her as she led me back through the main town of Forge and past Haven's. The streets were empty anyway, save for one or two shops just closing up. I absently realized I had no idea whatsoever where Celia lived or where she even came from. I knew her parents both lived in Forge and were somewhat old friends with Auntie Marie, but I had never heard of their daughter until a month and a half ago.

We arrived at an average-sized house just outside of the main part of Forge in a small community. It seemed like Celia had neighbors, unlike Auntie Marie and Uncle Jed who lived alone in the outskirts of Forge.

Celia led me into her house and switched on the lights. "My mom's out of town staying at my uncle's to talk about what to do with my dad's old stuff that wasn't mentioned in the will," she told me, "so I'm home alone until at least July."

Her house looked like the most clean, tidied, and organized house ever. If you had looked at this house, you would never have guessed a teenage girl lived here. Everything was spotless, dishes were organized, and a collection of flowers sat on the windowsill in the living room. Family pictures hung on the wall; pictures of vacations in tropical places with Celia as a little girl, a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins at the Grand Canyon, a picture of Celia holding up her GED diploma in front of a field of maize. She didn't look like she was in Forge, and her hair was shorter then.

Seeing all these pictures made me hate Noelle even more.

"C'mon," Celia called from the stairs. "Stop looking at how ugly I was in the little."

I silently followed her up the stairs and into a room that I realized was her bedroom, except the walls were blank and the sheets were plain gray. Any sign that a 17-year-old girl lived her was only evident by the purple duffle bag in the corner.

"I don't actually live here," Celia explained, reading my expression. "I live with my uncle out in the country." She sighed and flopped onto the bed. "A few years ago, my whole family lived out in the country, then my parents decided they wanted to move to Denver to open up a business, but I kind of really hate big cities. So I locked myself in my room, and didn't talk to my parents for weeks until they decided that they would just leave me with my uncle since I really did not want to go with them." She shrugged. "They wound up here instead of Denver, and I never had the heart to tell them that I actually liked Forge."