A/N: If, for whatever reason, you're really interested in what Joy's locket looks like, a picture of it is at the top of the bonus chapter "I Went to Look for Joy." You can look at the picture, but be sure not to read the content until you're done with the main story.
Sorry for the flashback chapter, but I needed to add this in. Anyway, things should begin getting more romance-y starting *looks at watch* NOW!
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Allison
"God bless you," I said after hearing Patience sneeze.
"Thank you," she replied.
"Feeling under the weather?" Birdie asked, a slight grin appearing on her face. "Have you been going for more midnight strolls?"
Patience stared at Birdie curiously, unsure of what she meant.
"Ouch!" cried Birdie, gripping her shin and turning to glare at me. "What was that for?"
"Whatever are you talking about, my dear?" I purred, giving her a look that said not to bring up the previous subject again. I turned away, leaving it at that, then searched through my handbag and pulled out a few letters. It wasn't something we talked about because Patience didn't know. She didn't know that we knew.
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"Near!" cried a four-year-old Birdie, weaving through several children twice her size in an attempt to get at Near.
"What is it?" Near asked, seeming mildly interested.
Birdie hadn't hated Near when she was younger. She knew he was smart, but she hadn't ever talked to him, at least as far as I can recall.
"Patience won't wake up!" Birdie said.
With a sigh, Joy put her magazine down and stood up from where she had been sitting. "I'll go get the ice water," she said.
"What's Patience doing sleeping at this time of day?" Lacey wondered aloud.
"No!" Birdie said, jumping up and down in frustration as she struggled to be understood.
"Use your words, Birdie," I said slowly.
Birdie harrumphed. "She falled down, and now she won't get up!"
"What?" I exclaimed. Noticing a familiar face, I cried out for help. "Mrs. Hajamba!"
After Birdie took us all to where she had been, we found Patience lying unconscious on the floor. Mrs. Hajamba quickly knelt down next to her and put a hand on her forehead.
"Lacey," said Mrs. Hajamba, "get Bruce Murphy."
"I'm on it!" Lacey said, running to go find Patience's warden.
"Joy," said Mrs. Hajamba, "look through my purse and fetch me my car keys."
"What?" said Joy, trying to get things straight. "You're taking her to the ozzy?"
"Yes, now start looking. Allison, I need you to get a hand cloth from the linen closet and run it under cold water, then bring it to me.
"Matt!"
"Huh?" said Matt, looking up from his game to see Mrs. Hajamba hovering over an unconscious Patience. "Whoa, what happened?"
"Perhaps if you weren't always looking at that gadget, you might notice these things," Mrs. Hajamba said, still managing to find time during an emergency to criticize Matt about how much time he spent gaming. "Now go find Mr. Roger and tell him we're taking Patience to hospital."
***
The five of us were spread about the otherwise empty room, the other children having gone outside to play. Near was sitting on the carpet, stacking blocks; he rarely ever left his toys to play outside. One of the caretakers, Sarah, was also there, lying back on a chair in exhaustion as she held an unconscious Birdie, who had cried herself to sleep after several hours of wailing.
"I'm sure she'll be fine," Mello assured me.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I said, staring at my hands as I clenched my skirt.
"Need a hand?" came a familiar voice. I looked up to see May approaching Sarah.
"God bless your soul," Sarah said, handing Birdie to May. She sank into her chair and draped her arm over her head to keep out the sunlight coming through the windows. "If anyone asks, I'm on my break."
"Understood."
"May?" Birdie croaked, rubbing her eyes as she emerged from her sleep and realized she was being held by a new set of arms.
"How do?" May said, ruffling Birdie's hair.
"May, you're finally back," I said.
"Aye. I just saw Mrs. Hajamba and heard about what happened. Mr. Murphy is still at hospital with Patience."
"Did you ask how Patience is doing?" I asked.
"Mrs. Hajamba said she's going be right," May said. "Patience had a high fever, but I can't reckon how she got it. No one has been sick lately."
"Well, it's been cold out lately," Lacey pointed out. "Maybe that's how she picked up something."
"That's not how it works, Lacey," Joy said, correcting Lacey but also not bothering to add anything helpful.
"No one has been outside long enough for them to get sick, anyhow," May said.
"Patience has," Near said.
We all turned to look at Near, who was stacking building blocks. He hadn't said a word up until then.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Every night she goes outside," Near said, not looking away from his growing tower.
"How would you know?" Joy inquired.
"I couldn't fall asleep one night," Near began. "I looked outside the window and noticed that she was standing outside in the snow without a coat. I found it odd, especially considering she seemed almost accustomed to it, so I noted the time and checked the next night. On the third night I came to the conclusion that this was something she had been doing on a regular basis."
"Why would she do that?" I wondered.
"Probably lost someone," said Lacey.
"Huh?"
"Someone probably died," Lacey elaborated. "She's scared, yeah."
"I suppose that would make sense," Joy admitted.
"I don't get it," I said. "Why would she do that just because she lost someone?"
"'Just because she lost someone'?" Joy repeated, disgust evident in her voice. "Sack it! You wouldn't understand, you git."
"Joy," May warned, "don't get mad at Allison. You can't blame her for not knowing how it feels."
"We all deals with things in different ways," Lacey explained.
"No one can tell you how to mourn," Joy added.
"Well, Near, why didn't you tell anyone?" I asked even though I knew that it was probably a stupid question. It's not as though Near was a talkative person.
"She didn't want me to," he replied.
"Patience asked you not to tell anyone?" I said. "How did she even know you knew?"
"She didn't tell me to, no," Near said.
"For crying out loud, Near, we ain't got all blooming day!" Lacey exclaimed.
"Her talent," Near said.
"Huh, it even works on you?" Joy mused. "Now that's something."
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"Allison, what are you doing?" Birdie asked.
"Looking through my mail," I said. "I'd grabbed all my mail before I left and planned on reading it on the plane, but there was a bratty nipper kicking my seat and screaming the entire plane ride, so I planned on reading it when I arrived in America. Then a mob of people tried to kill us, so I'm going to read my mail now before something else bad happens."
"Oh. Who's that one from?" she asked, pointing to a large envelope.
"Story, Harrowing, and... Lacey?"
"Ugh, Harrowing?" Birdie echoed. "I hate her."
"Why?" I asked. Patience gave her a questioning look, also curious. She'd never met Harrowing. Or Story, for that matter.
"Are you kidding me?" Birdie said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "She makes Near look like a social butterfly.
"Anyhow, what kind of person names themselves after a drug?"
"That's heroin, Birdie; not 'harrowing.'"
"Oh... Well, open it up; let's see what you got."
Although it was none of Birdie's business, I opened the envelope, curious as to why Lacey's name was on it.
There were two pieces of paper in the envelope, I pulled out the first one—a letter—and read it:
Dear Allison,
Harrowing and I really miss you. I was talking to Lacey over the phone, and she suggested that we send you a letter. She knows you well, so we decided it was a good idea. We hope you're having fun with your new job. It's amazing that you can speak so many different languages. I'd love to have a gift like that!
Harrowing has been making some lovely artwork lately, and some of it has even been sent to a couple of art exhibits. I am writing a new story. It is going quite well! I think this one may be the best yet.
Lacey says she misses you, too. She suggested that Harrowing draw you a picture and send you the drawing, so we did! I think it's one of Harrowing's best drawings. It's very bright and cheerful. Not that her other work is bad. It's just that this one is really nice. Anyhow, we hope you like it, and good luck with everything!
Love,
Story, Harrowing, and Lacey
I smiled at Story's letter. Obviously, by "Harrowing and I really miss you," "we decided it was a good idea," and whatnot, she was speaking for Harrowing, who probably didn't care one way or the other.
Still, I couldn't help but feel suspicious. Lacey wanted the girls to send me a letter. Lacey was a dear, but she had an evil side. Hesitantly, I pulled out the drawing Harrowing had made. I immediately frowned when I saw the drawing that Lacey had suggested. The tart.
It was a picture of me, I looked around thirteen, and my arm was around Mello's shoulder. I was laughing, and Mello looked annoyed yet amused. I ripped the paper in half, crumpled it up, and threw it into the nearest trash bin. Too many memories. I was trying to forget, but it was too late. The memories came rushing back. I wasn't there anymore.
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I was seventeen.
I hung up my cellphone and turned my head when I heard the door open. Lacey, Birdie, Story, and Joy walked in.
"Joy?" I said. "What are you doing here? You just came to visit a few days ago."
"I lost a necklace of mine," she said as though it were obvious. "The only place I can think of where it would be is here."
"Allison, you left dinner early," Story pointed out. "Is everything alright?"
"Don't worry, Story; I'm fine. I just wanted to call my friend. I haven't talked to her in a while. The time difference can be such a bother."
"Patience?" Lacey guessed. I nodded. "That's nice; how is she?"
"She says she's fine, which means she's probably rather miserable."
"Nothing new, then," said Joy, looking on top of the dressers.
"I can hardly believe she's changed so much," Lacey said, and I nodded in response.
Patience was hardly the same. Ever since she'd headed off to find her mum, she acted differently. She was more closed off. I was probably the only person she could talk to even remotely normally.
"Is Patience one of your old roommates?" Story asked.
"Yeah, she's a nice girl," I said. "I think you'd like her, Story."
"Did she find anything on Mello?" Birdie asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I didn't ask."
"Why?" Lacey asked. "I thought you wanted Patience to find Mello, yeah?"
Lacey didn't know Patience was working on the Kira case, likely thinking she had gone back to America to study, but she did know that she was eventually going to head to Japan to find her birth mother. She also knew that I'd asked Patience to bring back Mello. She had come to the conclusion that if Mello was going to try and find Kira, he'd likely end up in Japan. So she had gone to see off Patience and heard me ask her to find Mello, after which she basically got on her hands and knees, clung to Patience, and begged/screamed for her to bring back Mello.
"Three years ago," I said. "I don't care anymore, Lacey. You should know. You got over Mello a while ago." I still couldn't believe she had.
"Yes, I'm quite aware," Lacey said, "but you and Mello was a lot closer than he and I was. You can't seriously has stopped caring."
"It's a miracle!" I said sardonically.
"Is it alright if I asks who Mello is?" Story asked.
"Gobshite?" Joy offered up as she got on the floor to look under my bed.
I nodded in agreement. "He's a sod, Story. He's a sod."
Lacey chuckled at the comment. "A sod you're in love with."
"Put a cork in it, Lacey!" I said. "I don't love him!"
Joy chuckled. "That's a lie if I ever heard one."
"Don't deny it, Allison," Lacey said. She always got involved in other people's business. Or mine, at least.
"I'm not deneeing anything, Lacey," I shot back, mocking her accent.
She gave me a dirty look but otherwise ignored the gibe. "You don't even realize you loves him, do you?" Lacey said with a sigh.
"That's because I don't love him," I said, spelling it out for her.
"Denial. You're in love, yeah. That's just part of it."
"I swear, Lacey!" I exclaimed. "I don't care!"
"Lacey, I believes Allison is telling the truth," said Story.
"You even gots Story to believe them porky pies," said Lacey. Birdie snorted but managed to suppress the rest of her laughter. Lacey simply rolled her eyes. "Are you sure you didn't get into Wammy's for your acting skills, Allison?"
Lacey isn't evil (though she sure as hell was acting like it right then), but once she had gotten over Mello, for some reason she came to the conclusion that I had feelings for him. Go figure.
"What is wrong with you, Lacey?" I said.
"Many things," Joy replied.
"The heck?" Birdie said out of nowhere. "When did Harrowing get here?" I turned to see that Harrowing was sitting on her bed. She looked up at Birdie. "You were just sitting at a table for dinner! How did you get here?" Harrowing shrugged.
Lacey sighed, admitting defeat that I had (once again) won. She sat down on Harrowing's bed, looking at her latest drawing. Harrowing noticed Lacey's interest, and with a monotone expression, held out the notebook, giving her permission to look. Harrowing never spoke, and she didn't show much emotion. She communicated through motions and gestures. I was pretty sure she could talk but just didn't bother to.
Lacey took the notebook from Harrowing, nodding her head in thanks. Lacey turned the pages, recognizing many of the structures and people Harrowing often drew. She stopped at one page and grinned.
Joy momentarily stopped her pursuit when she noticed the diabolic look on Lacey's face. "What are you made up about?"
Lacey turned the sketchbook so that I could see it. I rolled my eyes when I saw the drawing, and I knew Birdie must have had a cheeky smirk on her face. Joy chuckled and resumed her search.
It was of me. In the background was an expressionless Mello in the distance.
"Lacey, how does Harrowing even know what Mello looks like?" I asked.
Lacey smiled. "I had pictures, yeah. I used to collect them."
"You're insane," Birdie said matter-of-factly.
"Agreed," Joy said, so desperate in her search that she was now rummaging through my dresser drawers.
"And so you gave one to Harrowing?" I said in confusion.
"Why not?" Lacey said with a shrug. "Basically, she stared at one of the pictures, and I told her who it was, yeah." She had a smug look on her face as she batted her lashes at me. "It looks like even Harrowing can tell you has feelings for him, dunnit?"
Harrowing spared a confused look at Lacey, unsure of how she'd come to that conclusion. Harrowing likely hadn't thought anything along those lines. She simply drew me and someone I used to know in the background. She was rather straightforward with her artwork, drawing only her surroundings.
"Lacey!" I shouted. "I don't care about Mello!"
"How daft do you think I am?" she asked, putting down the sketchbook and standing up. "I can see it in your mincers."
I looked at her as if she'd sprouted a second head. "What?"
Seemingly too invested in our conversation at this point to care that Birdie had let out another laugh at her vernacular, Lacey's smile shined as brightly as ever. She swayed back and forth, looking at her light pink skirt as it oscillated with her movement.
"Basically, after Mello left, whenever I thought about him, I would always have that look in me mincers, yeah." She looked up directly into my eyes, and she smiled. "They says the eyes are the windows to the soul." I just stared at her, out of comebacks. "I should go back to me room now," she said. "You should probably go, too, Birdie."
"I'm fine," Birdie assured Lacey.
"Buzz off," I said.
"Fine... I didn't want to talk to you anyhow."
The two opened the door and left, Lacey stopping to turn around and smile at me on her way out, looking me square in the eyes.
Upon hearing the door click shut, I sighed. "I'm going to get ready for bed," I said even though it wasn't late.
Story gave me a caring smile and nodded. Joy gave a grunt of acknowledgment, not caring one way or the other.
I brushed my teeth and washed my face. Then, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I stared into my eyes. When I saw them, I snapped. When I saw my brown eyes staring right back at me, something inside of me went haywire. Without thinking, my hands tightened into fists. I raised my right hand and smashed it against the mirror with all my strength. My reflection shattered into a million pieces, and I fell to my knees. I heard feet pounding on the wooden floor.
"Allison!"
I turned my head to see Story running into the bathroom, followed by Joy. They both stopped dead in their tracks, Story to absorb the scene, and Joy when she noticed a locket on the floor. I had found it the day before: a silver, heart-shaped locket with a floral design; in it was a picture of what appeared to be a young Joy and a man I didn't recognize. I had hung it on the edge of the mirror, but I guess I'd forgotten about it. Now it was lying on the floor amongst shards of broken glass.
Story quickly walked towards me, carefully avoiding the broken pieces of glass, and then got down on her knees. Joy bent down, picked up the locket from the floor, squeezed it in her hands, and held it tightly against her chest. She stood up, and I expected her to leave, clearly having found what she had come for. I was surprised when she approached me as well, bending down to look at me.
My eyes were too clouded with tears to see much, so I wiped them away and stared dumbfound at Joy. I saw something in her eyes that shocked me, something I'd never seen before. Not a look of annoyance or anger; it was different. I can't say for sure what I saw in her eyes, but I suppose it was something akin to understanding, empathy. There was hurt in her eyes; loss. Joy, who had always acted so tough, so distant, so harsh, now looked fragile as tears fell down her cheeks, causing her mascara to run. One hand still clutching her locket, she used the other to touch my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Story looked at my tear stained cheeks, then at my hand, soaked with blood and impaled with glass shards. Finally, she looked into my eyes, and that's when she understood.
Story grabbed my uninjured hand and looked into my eyes, her own beginning to water.
"It's alright, Allison!" she said. "It's alright!" She put my hand over my chest, her own eyes watering as well. "Because the good things will live in our hearts."
"Always," said Joy.
My eyes widened when I heard this, and something clicked. I hugged Story tightly, feeling her little fingers dig into the fabric of my shirt as she hugged me back. I tried to choke back my sobs, too hysterical to be surprised when I felt Joy's arm wrap around my shoulder. After several minutes, I finally managed to calm down.
"Let me see your hand," Story said, her voice firm.
"I'm fine, Story, really," I assured her, rubbing my swollen eyes.
"Az och un vai!" she argued. Joy raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Tough luck," I said, giving her a loose translation.
I sighed, knowing that Story only ever pulled out the Yiddish when she was dead serious. I held out my hand for her, and then she turned to Joy, seeking her opinion.
Joy frowned when she got a better look at my hand. "Tsk. You're going to need to go to the ozzy."
"No!" I insisted, not wanting anyone to figure out that I'd had a breakdown. "...No."
Story gave me a stern look, which was something she did very rarely. "Meshugaas. Enough fantaddling, now. Either hospital or I's bringing Phoebe to help."
My eyes widened. Phoebe was about thirteen and was skilled in the medical field, which would obviously be helpful with murder cases. She was skilled enough to become a doctor or a medical examiner but was obviously too young.
"Okay, hospital," I quickly replied.
I don't care if Phoebe's the best damn doctor in all of Britain. There's no way in hell I'll ever let that kid anywhere near me with a sharp object. She is insane, I tell you. Insane.
After that, I'd gone to hospital, where I got several stitches. We told Roger that the mirror had simply fallen when I touched it. I doubt he believed that (I know Lacey didn't), but he let it slide that once.
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I'd been so upset. Over Mello.
But that was then, I thought, and this is now.