11. Trust

Freen was in a sour mood ever since the incident last evening in the parking lot. She was almost on the edge of another panic attack when Billy showed up. Apparently, before Becky ran off abandoning Freen once again, she made sure to tell Billy to take her home.

It was yet another cold morning. She was still mad at Becky. But a rational side of her defended Becky and her absence. It was clear Becky was losing control yesterday. Maybe she was protecting Freen by leaving just like she had promised. Would she even be at school today? How long will Freen have to wait again to see her?

As soon as she stepped out of her house, it seemed her worries were unnecessary. Becky was waiting, leaning casually against her car, her breathtaking face untroubled now.

"Hi," Becky breathed, smiling hugely.

"Hello." Her answering smile was brilliant. She couldn't help herself.

"Are you okay?" Becky's face fell minutely.

"Yes," Freen lied.

"Really?" Becky was unconvinced, her eyes narrowing. "Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"That's convincing." Becky chuckled weakly.

Becky was in no way repentant, so Freen ignored it. They walked in silence to her car, but Freen stopped a few steps away, "Why did you leave like that?"

"I had to."

Freen didn't respond.

Becky sighed. "Will you forgive me if I apologize?"

"Maybe... if you mean it. And you promise not to do it again,"

"You know, I can't do that."

Freen shook her head, ready to retort, but Becky cut her off.

"I'm sorry I upset you." Becky's eyes burned with sincerity for a moment playing havoc with the rhythm of Freen's heart. "And I will try my best not to do it again."

Becky seemed solemn.

"I was mostly wondering about your reaction." Freen said, those burning eyes still clear in her memory.

"Did I frighten you?"

"No," Freen answered honestly. It wasn't Becky who terrified her. It was him.

"I apologize for my reaction regardless." Becky persisted with a slight smile. "It was the thought of him hurting you...." Her jaw tightened. "I lost control."

"Did you hear what he said?"

Becky spoke between her clenched teeth. "No."

"Did you read his mind?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Becky looked away, suddenly avoiding eye contact. "I can't."

"Because...?"

Becky sighed, "My ability works on everyone except for the wolves from Camden. They're immune, for some reason."

Freen took a deep breath. She had her suspicions. So her dream wasn't just a dream. Gemini is a werewolf. First vampires, now werewolves! What else is out there?

"Still doesn't explain why you left me there."

"Like I said, I was losing control. When we are like that.." Becky spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses... govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way..." Becky shook her head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

Freen kept her expression firmly under control. Her face gave nothing away. Their eyes held, and the silence deepened and changed.

Becky gazed unrelentingly into Freen's eyes. It wasn't until minutes later that Freen realized she had been holding her breath. When she drew in a soft breath— not ragged in the way Becky expected— it broke the stillness, and Becky closed her eyes.

"Freen, I think you should get inside now." Becky's voice was rough again, her eyes opening to stare at the clouds.

Freen took a deep breath, opened the door, and got inside. Becky soon followed after.

"Becky?" Freen called, her voice more even. Becky turned towards her with a faint smile on her lips.

"Yes?"

"I trust you."

Becky smiled wider, flashing her gleaming teeth.

Everyone watched them as they walked together to their lab table. Freen noticed that Becky no longer angled the chair to sit as far from Freen as the desk would allow. Instead, she sat quite close beside Freen, their arms almost touching.

A movie day—the lift in the class atmosphere - was almost tangible.

The teacher shoved the tape into the reluctant VCR and walked to the wall to turn off the lights.

And then, as the room went black, Freen was suddenly hyperaware that Becky was sitting less than an inch from her. Freen was stunned by the unexpected electricity that flowed through her, amazed that it was possible to be more aware of Becky than she already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and touch her, to graze her perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly overwhelmed Freen. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, her hands balling into fists. She was sure she was losing her mind.

The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount—not that Freen needed it. Her eyes, of their own accord, flickered to Becky. Freen smiled sheepishly as she realized Becky's posture was identical to her own, fist clenched under her arms, right down to the eyes, peering sideways at Freen. Becky grinned back, her eyes somehow managing to smoulder, even in the dark. Freen looked away before she could do anything rash.

The hour seemed incredibly long. Freen couldn't concentrate on the movie—she didn't even know what subject it was on. She tried unsuccessfully to relax, but she couldn't. Occasionally, Freen would permit herself a quick glance in Becky's direction, but she never seemed to relax either. The overpowering craving to touch Becky also refused to fade, and Freen crushed her fists safely against her ribs. She breathed a sigh of relief when the lights flicked back on at the end of class and stretched her arms out in front of her, flexing her stiff fingers. Becky snorted beside her.

"Well, that was interesting," Becky articulated. Her voice was dark, and her eyes were cautious.

"Uh," was the only thing that could leave Freen's mouth in that tense moment.

"Shall we?" Becky asked, rising fluidly.

Freen almost groaned. Gym was next. Becky walked Freen to her next class in silence and paused at the door; Freen turned to say goodbye. Becky's face startled her—her expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch Becky flared as strong as before. Freen's goodbye was lodged in her throat.

Becky raised her hand, hesitant, conflict raging in her eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of Freen's cheekbone with her fingertips. Becky's skin was too cold to Freen, like she had expected, but the trail her fingers left on her skin was alarmingly warm—like Freen had been burned but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

Becky turned without a word and strode quickly away from Freen.

Freen walked into the gym and drifted to the locker room, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that there were other people surrounding her. She was completely enamoured with Becky Armstrong's existence. Reality didn't fully set in until someone approached her.

"So," Freen turned to see Victor approaching as she walked into the court, to flank her on one side. She watched Heng clench his jaw, but he remained silent.

"So what?"

"You and Armstrong, huh?" he queried, his tone rebellious. Freen's jaw clenched, and her mouth opened to respond, but Heng beat her to it.

"That's none of your business, Victor." Heng warned, but Victor seemed to ignore it.

"I don't like it," he griped anyway.

"You don't have to," Freen fumed and felt as Heng's hand wrapped around her forearm, tugging at her.

"She looks at you like... like you're something to eat." Victor continued, disregarding the outburst.

Freen choked back her response and fled to the locker room before she could do something she would regret.

Freen dressed quickly, feeling something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of her stomach, her argument with Victor already a distant memory. She wondered if Becky would be waiting or if she should meet her at the car. Freen suddenly felt a wave of terror. What if Becky's family was there? What if they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew or not?

Freen was somehow the last to exit the locker room. Becky was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the gym. She smiled widely. She could get used to this.

The silence never seemed to bother Freen when it was just them. It was comfortable.

After a few minutes into the drive, Becky spoke, "What's your favourite colour?"

"It changes from day to day."

"What's your favourite colour today?"

"Probably green." Freen tried not to think about the real reason why.

Becky snorted, dropping her serious expression. "Green?" she asked sceptically.

"Yes. I mean, everything here is covered in green—tree trunks, rocks, and dirt. It's not an off shade of green but a deep green that is warm." and not at all because your eyes are green.

Becky considered for a moment, staring into Freen's eyes. "You're right," she decided, serious again. "Green is warm." She reached over, swiftly, but somehow still hesitantly, to sweep Freen's hair back behind her shoulder from where it had fallen.

It continued like that for the rest of the drive. Becky questioned her relentlessly about every insignificant detail of her existence. Movies she'd liked and hated, the places she'd been, and many places she wanted to go, and books—endlessly books.

Freen couldn't remember the last time she'd talked this much. More often than not, Freen felt self-conscious, certain she must be boring to Becky. But the absolute absorption on her face and her never-ending stream of questions compelled Freen to continue.

When Becky asked for her favourite gemstone, Freen blurted out nephrite without thinking. Freen's face reddened because, until very recently, her favourite gemstone was garnet. It was impossible while staring back into Becky's nephrite eyes, not to remember the reason for the switch.

"Tell me why," Becky finally commanded after persuasion failed.

"It's the colour of your eyes," Freen sighed, surrendering, staring down at her hands as she fiddled with a piece of her hair. "I suppose I have three. Nephrite, for when your eyes are green, topaz when they're golden, and onyx when they're black." She'd given more information than necessary in her unwilling honesty, and Freen worried it would provoke the strange anger that flared whenever she slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed she was with Becky.

But Becky's pause was short.

"What kinds of flowers do you prefer?" Becky fired off. Freen sighed in relief and continued with the psychoanalysis.

Becky wanted to know what Freen missed about home, insisting on description of anything and everything and only briefly stopping when she sensed tears in Freen's eyes. They sat in front of Freen's house for hours, as the sky darkened, and the rain plummeted around them in sudden deluge.

Becky's quiet, probing questions kept Freen talking freely, lifting a burden off her shoulders she didn't know was there, and forgetting everything that weighed down on her, in the dim light of the storm. Finally, when Freen had finished detailing her room back at home and how she got the scar next to her eyebrow, Becky paused instead of responding with another question.

"Are you finished?" Freen asked in relief; talking about her life was emotionally taxing.

"Not even close—but Sheriff Chankimha will be home soon."

"Mum!" Freen suddenly recalled her existence and sighed; her mind had been solely on Becky. Freen looked out at the rain-darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" she wondered out loud as she glanced at the clock, surprised by the time—Mum would be driving home now.

"Twilight—it's a half-light," Becky muttered, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. Her voice was thoughtful, as if her mind were somewhere far away. Freen stared at her as Becky gazed out the windshield.

Freen was still staring when Becky's eyes suddenly shifted back to hers.

"It's the safest time of day for us," Becky said, answering the unspoken question in Freen's eyes. "The easiest time. But also, the saddest, in a way... the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?" Becky smiled wistfully.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars."

Becky smiled lightly at that.

"Your mother will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell her that you'll be with me on Saturday..." That eyebrow arched again.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Freen gathered her books.

Becky reached across to open the door for Freen, and her sudden proximity sent Freen's heart into frenzied palpitations. But Becky's hand froze on the handle. "Not good," she muttered.

"What is it?" Freen was surprised to see that Becky's jaw was clenched; her eyes disturbed.

Becky glanced at her for a brief second and flung the door open in one swift movement, then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from Freen.

The flash of headlights through the rain caught Freen's attention.

"Your mother is just around the corner," Becky warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle.

Freen hopped out at once. The rain was louder as it glanced off her jacket. Becky's expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.

Then she revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

How long will they have to hide?

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