This chapter is dedicated to Clinton, with thanks again for your support on Patreon. Hope you're enjoying the story!
I didn't know what to do. There was water all over the floor, as well as splashes on Lindy's art desk, and on some of the piles of clothes that were scattered around the room. I tried not to panic, telling myself that I had to find a solution to my problem instead of just giving up. But I didn't know what I could do in this situation. I stopped, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Then I looked again, hoping that the nightmare could have been less serious than my first thoughts.
I had to take stock of the situation. There were bad things; puddles and water marks. But there were good things as well, once I forced myself to look for them. For one, Lindy was still asleep and didn't seem to have noticed my unexpected tumble. That girl could sleep through anything. Second, after a closer look on the desk, I saw that the water was mostly on the laminate surface. A few drops had splashed across a box of watercolours, but most of the paint was in little blocks that had individual plastic colours. And there were no drops I could see on any of the pictures, which gave me a great feeling of relief. Intruding in her room was a small misdemeanour, but spoiling a painting would have been a capital offence.
I carried the bowl back to the bathroom, emptied the rest of the water out, and returned it to my room. First task done; I didn't want it to be obvious what I'd attempted. But there would still be questions about the puddles on the floor. They might dry up before the morning, but there was no way I could be sure of that. I didn't think it was likely, especially the bigger ones. Well, I could wipe up the water on the desk, at least. I was about to step back into the bathroom for a towel when I noticed a better solution. There was already a towel in the room, scattered across the floor along with everything else my sister owned. I didn't know how she could move around in here without constantly tripping; I wasn't some kind of neat freak, but I at least kicked all my stuff under the edge of my bed at the end of the day. But a towel that was haphazardly placed on the floor was a blessing. I grabbed a corner and put it on one of the biggest puddles on the carpet. It would soak up more if I could leave it there until morning, and it was still damp from yesterday's shower so that wouldn't give her cause for suspicion.
It was a shame there was only one towel. But I could see another solution when I looked at the desk again, and when I turned to look around the room. There was a stuffed toy in the middle of the floor, looking up at me accusingly. I remembered from the days before the wall that they never stayed in Lindy's bed for long. Like her blankets the stuffies would be on her bed at the start of the night, but would often be thrown to the far corner of the room as she turned over and shifted position. More that once I'd been woken by a midnight flying gerbil, and she always claimed she had been fast asleep.
I picked up the toy, and placed it upside down on the desk. Then I took an old mug with the handle broken off, which had been sitting in the same place, and emptied it down the bathroom sink. There were couple of paint brushes standing in it; the cheap ones that she didn't care too much about damaging, and almost an inch of paint-stained water. Once it was empty I returned it to the desk, lying on its side with the brushes extending into the nearest part of my spill. My instant reading of the situation was that Lindy had thrown a toy out of bed again and it had knocked over the water cup that she'd carelessly failed to empty. That would explain the mark on the desk, now starting to turn pink with a couple of smears of paint from the edge of the mug, as well as any remaining damp patch on the floor below.
Sure I was in the clear now, I padded silently back to my own room and tried to sleep.
* * *
At breakfast the next morning I didn't hear any hint of suspicion from Lindy. She didn't even mention a spill, so either it had dried completely or she was too well aware that mentioning a spill would attract a lecture from Mum about keeping her workspace tidy. Lindy was slowly tucking into a bowl of cereal, and nattering on about some new anime that her friends had recommended. I was sure that some time in the next half hour, she would be begging for some extra money so that she could pick up a bunch of DVDs; or so she could sign up to a fifth niche streaming service. But I wasn't going to listen to that. I sat down to put my skates on, slung a bag over my shoulder with some spare clothes, and grabbed a couple of pastries as soon as they popped out of the toaster. Then I was waving goodbye, accepting insincere wishes of good luck from my family, and rolling gently down the path.
I stopped when I came to the street; my rush wasn't entirely because it was match day. I wasn't surprised to see that Harper was still in the house; she said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day, and didn't hold with eating on the move. I would have to wait a couple of minutes for her to turn up, but she was also the captain of the U16 inline girls, so I wouldn't miss anything important until she arrived. I let myself drift a little way along the street, and reclined nonchalantly between two mailboxes with 'Bernstein' and 'Eisen' painted on the sides. Both were more appealing – and somehow more easily readable – than the average family's mailboxes, having been touched up by my little sister the last time they started to fade.
In the Eisens' yard, Hugo was focusing his entire attention on a wall-mounted basketball hoop. The ball spun effortlessly in his hands, dancing from one arm to the other, and then sailed away to slam against the backboard. There was a little tension while it rolled around the rim, seeming to be a precarious moment even though I had never seen him miss a shot. He said he was going to be a pro when he grew up, and I could easily believe he had both the skills and the physique. He reclaimed the ball and dribbled past the end of the driveway, out onto the street. The yellow line there was his three point line, and he wanted to try a longer shot this time. I watched his muscles flex under tan skin as he lined up and took a single step backwards.
"Hey Sally," he threw me a salute with one hand, keeping the ball on the opposite palm. "Harper's just getting ready."
"Yeah," I nodded. "Doing good?"
I wanted to say more. I wanted to compliment his form, or to say something more comprehensible than gushing about how talented he was, how he was bound to get scouted this year, or how good he looked working out. I certainly didn't want him to hear my thoughts on the last of those; I was a friend and neighbour, not some groupie like the gaggle that obsessed over him at school. But I couldn't find the words. I was just too embarrassed, and my own basketball skills were too weak to even think about admitting I'd like to play. I couldn't tell him I was interested in the sport until I knew I'd be able to feign competence if he let me take a shot; and I couldn't express any interest in him while he was still thinking of me as one of his little sister's teammates.
"Good enough," he answered with a shrug, and sent the ball up in a smooth arc that ended exactly on target. I held my breath as it landed, even knowing how good he was. And then I saw the door open, and Harper was coming out. She had her hair in a pixie cut, but it had turned blue since the last time I saw her, and a boot bag slung over her shoulder containing her skates. I watched as she extracted her bike from the garage, imagining that I had a few more minutes to chat with Hugo even if I couldn't think of anything interesting to say. And then we were heading off in the direction of the Three Counties Youth Roller Hockey Club, leaving the basketball star to his morning drill.
"You should eat properly," she said, pointing to my breakfast.
"You should learn to skate properly," I shrugged, nodding to the bike. She was devoted to her sports, playing on both quad and inline teams, but somehow had never learned to stand on a hill without falling over. The rest of the team either arrived on their own wheels, or had parents to drive them in from farther afield.
"Someday I will. Heard from Newman?"
"No," I mumbled, my heart suddenly sinking. I had barely heard any news lately, and I realised that in her last few conversations Nadine had barely said anything about her personal life. It must be something pretty serious if I wasn't the first to hear, and that made me feel guilty. Had I been too wrapped up in my own problems to think about a friend in distress? "Wait, what happened? Is it about that... Jim?"
"Her older guy? Yeah. She went on a date last week, you know? Got the bus down to Barrowford to meet the guy, right?"
"Yeah. And again on Thursday. Why, is he a creep?"
"No. She just thought he'd be like... well, like a boyfriend. I heard from Maggie, they went to the funfair Thursday, right, and she was so excited about seeing him again. But he's playing the sideshow games, buying her presents, but he's acting more like a cool uncle than a date. Like a friend of the family, no romance vibes at all. Think she's frustrated, but what was she expecting?"
"Damn," I mumbled, not quite sure what I should be thinking. It was good to know that a friend was safe, but I could see her being so disappointed to find that her dream guy didn't see her in the way she was hoping. "But they still had a second date?"
"Maggie said she thinks she's in denial. Like he's said he likes her and they got stuff in common to chat about, and she said she's okay just hanging out as friends. But maybe she thinks she can change his mind somehow, or he'll realise how mature she is when her birthday comes around. I don't want to guess, but he sounds too nice for that. It's sad though, right? Can you imagine anything that would disappoint you more than being treated like a little kid?"
"Y...yeah..." I muttered, trying to sound like it was the saddest thing I'd ever heard. I could imagine how Nadine must be feeling now, and I wanted to find some way to cheer her up. But at the same time, I couldn't imagine how I would feel if it were me being called a little kid. I thought I might actually enjoy that, for reasons I wasn't close to understanding, and the fact that I couldn't find out burned more than anything else.
There were other rumours to share, other stories that we needed to catch up on. Harper hadn't seen Heath Watkins since his disastrous makeover, and I couldn't wait to share the story; perhaps prepare her a little so she wouldn't burst out laughing when she saw him next. And there were little things too, to fill up the last few minutes before we reached the club. After that we were all business; personal conversations on one side as we shifted to locker-room chat. Today wasn't just training, we had a tough match ahead of us. And as the youngest captain in the Three Counties league, Harper's mind was on nothing but tactics and determination. Today would be the day she proved herself again, and I felt sure that her courage would motivate us all.
I barely thought about anything else for the whole game. Maybe I might have imagined myself in her place when her opposite number sneeringly called her 'baby'; or glanced across at Nadine on the bench and wondered how to comfort her over the issues in her love life. But for today, at least, I could keep my mind completely on the game.
I wasn't thinking about being treated like a child. I didn't think about being babied even once. Not at all. It never entered my mind. Honestly.