A Vision of Green (Florence Vaine #2) (9 page)

The next morning I get ready for school and go downstairs to find the place even more trashed than it had been yesterday. The whole house reeks of cigarettes and I notice that somebody has actually put one of their smokes out in the arm of Gran's flower patterned sofa. The squished butt sits beside a black burn hole in the upholstery. There's something so wrong about how it looks, like homeless yobs have taken over Gran's house.

I go and get a dustpan and brush from the kitchen and do my best to clean up in the time I've got before I have to leave. There's absolutely no food in the fridge or the cupboards, so I have to settle for having a lone cup of tea without milk or sugar for breakfast. I remember seeing Gran squirrel money away in an old tin box a few times, she'd then go and hide it under the sink behind a pipe. I wonder if Dad has discovered it yet. I imagine he tore the place apart looking for anything even halfway valuable when he first arrived, so it's likely he has.

I cross my fingers and pray that he hasn't found Gran's money hiding spot as I kneel on the floor and open the cupboard beneath the sink. I reach in behind the pipe and my fingers touch on something cold and hard. Yes! I pull the tin out and open it up. Inside I find a small bundle of notes, two fifties, three twenties and a ten. This should keep me in food for a while. I stick the money in the side pocket of my school bag and put the tin back under the sink. At least that's one silver lining on what is very likely going to be a terrible day.

It's unseasonably warm and sunny, normally I love the weather in Chesterport, but today it seems to be mocking me with its cheeriness. I'm going to have to rip a boy's heart right out of his chest, without any real explanation for why I'm doing it. All I can do is hope that Frank isn't really as attached to me as he sometimes seems.

Walking through the main entrance of the school on my way to the lockers I pass by Josh, who's standing with a few other guys. They're the kind of boys who you'd look at and think,
posers, every last one of them
. It's strange how the way people dress, talk and carry themselves helps you to formulate an opinion of them before you've really gotten to know who they are. Even though I can see their auras, I don't need to study them because their demeanour and appearances tell me all I need to know.

Josh spots me walking by and actually greets me politely. “Morning Flo.”

I'm so surprised that he's addressing me in front of his “cool” friends that I can't form any polite response, so I simply keep my head down and continue on my way. One of his friends ask him, “Who's that?” but I'm gone before I have the chance to hear his reply.

I don't have any classes with Frank until the end of the day. At first it seems like a blessing, but then, as the hours go by at a snail's pace and my nerves build up I realise it would be better to get it over and done with quickly. Like pulling off a plaster.

I keep imagining what his face might be like when I tell him we can't do whatever it is we're doing any more. Neither of us has officially declared one another as each other's boyfriend or girlfriend yet, but it seems like we are. Sometimes you don't have to make things official with words for them to be true.

The only chance I'll get to speak with him properly is at lunch, so I spend the period beforehand mentally preparing myself and not paying a lick of attention to what the teacher is saying. Once the bell rings I head in the direction of the room where Frank has Technical Graphics. I wait outside the door as the students trickle out. Frank is one of the last to leave and when he sees me his face seems to light up.

“
Well, isn't this a nice surprise,” he says, pulling me into his arms for a quick hug.

He won't be thinking it's a nice surprise in a minute. I look up at him and ask, “Can we go somewhere private and talk, just for a little bit?”

Frank's expression sobers as he takes in my serious tone of voice. “Of course, I know just the place,” he replies, before leading me to a stairwell and taking me down to the basement level of the building.

It's an area where you'd imagine only the caretaker and the students who are up to no good would venture. I sit down on the last step and rest my sweaty palms on my lap. Frank takes the spot beside me, his eyes wandering over my face, as though trying to decipher what's going on inside my head. Like he wants to crack open my skull and scoop out the information. I don't think he'd like what he finds.

“
What's all this about Flo?” he asks, and he seems nervous. It's a truly horrible experience to see someone like Frank get anxious, he's just always so well put together. In my head I can see the bricks of the little half built house that is our relationship falling down before they've had a chance to become something whole. I don't want them to crumble away completely, but I don't feel like I have any other choice. The way I see it, I'll lose Frank no matter what I do, because if I don't break up with him then my dad will see to it that he gets into trouble by planting drugs on him. At least this way I get to prevent his life from being destroyed, even if I'm destroying my own heart in the process.

“
I don't think w-w-we should see each other any more,” I whisper.

Frank breathes out heavily and grips my chin with his fingers, turning my face so that he can look me in the eyes. I wish he wouldn't, eye contact will only make this whole thing ten times harder.

“
What? Why?” he asks, confused but urgent.

I have a reply all ready in my head, but the words get stuck in the hollows of my cheeks. I take some deep breaths and thankfully manage to get them out, “B-because I feel like we're becoming too reliant on one another too quickly. W-we've barely known each other a couple of weeks. And - and if you drive a car too fast when you're not paying attention to the road then it's inevitably going to crash.”

The metaphor feels silly as it travels clumsily out of my mouth. I'd thought it was so clever and meaningful when I'd come up with it last night. Now it just sounds like empty consonants and vowels.

Frank smiles faintly and lets go of my chin to take hold of my hand. “So we'll slow down and pay more attention to the road,” he says gently. “Breaking up is a little extreme, don't you think?”

No, no, no, this is not how this is supposed to play out. My thoughts scramble as I try to think of a new angle to take. Finally I say, “I d-d-don't think it's possible for you and I to slow down. When we touch I'm all sparks and tingles and I just want to burrow right under your skin. It's too much. I can't handle it. I don't know
how
to handle it.” All of this is true, yet before Dad came along I never thought it would be a reason for me to stop seeing Frank. How he makes me feel is frightening, but addictive.

“
You don't have to handle it, just follow my lead,” he answers and leans in to kiss me. I turn my face to the side and his lips collide with my jaw. Frank pauses and stares into my eyes, several emotions flickering past his blue irises at my rejection of his kiss. I feel like a worthless crumb on the floor. I feel like that hole in Gran's floral print sofa, the one made by a cigarette burn.

We're still looking at each other as I stifle my need to burst into tears. I mutter, “Please, don't make this hard.”

Frank lets go of my hand. “You're making something out of nothing here Flo. I get that it's intense when we're alone together, but life is intense. You need to live it, face your fears, not scurry away like a scared mouse.”

I turn away, speechless. He's so right and if I weren't being blackmailed then I would be doing exactly what he's telling me to. These past few weeks are supposed to have made me brave, and they have to a certain extent. But Dad is just ruining everything. I've got all of this courage inside of me, but I'm forbidden to use it because of something as trivial as the threats of a worthless junkie. He is so far beneath both of us, yet we're being held hostage to his whims. It's laughable how a person's life can be ruined because of somebody else's need to exalt power over another. All because every other aspect of
their
life is dictated by addiction.

“
I can't,” I tell him desperately, needing him to understand without understanding at all. What a complete contradiction.

Frank stands up and leans against the wall. “I don't know what's going on with you Flo, but I'm not going to force you to tell me if you're not ready to. Don't get me wrong, I think you're being irrational, but for some reason you're upset so I'm going to give you the space you seem to need. I'm not going to stop being your friend or looking out for you though. Even if you never want me the same way I want you, I will always be there to have your back.”

In my head I'm chanting,
don't cry, don't cry, don't cry
, but my watery eyes betray me. He thinks I don't want him like he wants me. I can't believe I'm going to have to let him go on thinking that.

The pathetic response I give him is a whispered, “Okay.”

Frank keeps on looking at me, trying to figure out what's really going on with me. Please don't let him look too deeply, I beg, because he might just find the answer. God, his eyes are so beautiful. After what seems like forever he looks away and picks up his bag, then he picks up mine too and hands it to me.

“
Come on,” he says, and it sounds like he's trying his best to sound casual, “let's go get some lunch before we both starve to death.”

He begins to go back up the stairs and I speak to his back, “Thank you - for understanding.”

Frank stops mid-stride and turns around. Momentary anger pulses through his aura, and I see the tip of a demon wing flap against the flames. “I don't understand any of this,” he grits out, making an effort to quell his emotions, “but I lo...,” he pauses and shakes his head. “Never mind. Come on, we've only got a short while before our evening classes begin.”

My heart gets stuck in my throat as I wonder just what he stopped himself from saying to me. I utter not a single word, and follow him up the stairwell.

If I'm thankful for one thing, it's that there's not much time left for lunch. Frank's body language is stony and hard, and his aura is full of too many feelings. I can't even bring myself to look at him. If I look too closely I might see something that'll make me feel even worse than I do right now. We eat quickly and silently, as the others chat animatedly around us. I think Alex is the only one who notices that something's up, but he doesn't point it out.

When we have our last class together I keep feeling Frank peering at me. He doesn't try to fill in the quiet by asking questions. Considering the fact that he's got a demon inside of him that's always trying its best to push him to extremes, he's doing a very good job of keeping his cool. Not that I think I'm so special for him to go threatening suicide if we can't be together, but that brief glimpse of a demon wing I caught earlier is surely indicative that he's not taking this as well as he appears to be.

When the bell rings signalling the end of class Frank stands, watching me as I put my books away. He puts a hand on my shoulder and asks, “Are you sure you're okay Flo?”

I nod without saying a word, afraid that my voice will quiver and betray me.

“
Do you want me to walk you home?”

My heart slams against my ribs at the idea of Frank walking me home and my dad seeing me with him again. I shake my head and tell him, “No that's okay, you should head h-home in the van with the others.”

His hand is still on my shoulder, he leaves it there for another moment before pulling it away. “All right then, be safe, I'll see you tomorrow.” There seems to be so much more he wants to say, but it looks like he's restraining himself.

“
See you.” I reply softly, watching him leave.

On my way home I drop into the grocery store to pick up some food to bring home, since I can't picture Sal or Dad actually making an effort to go out and do some shopping. Oh they'd probably go to the ends of the earth for a bag of drugs or a crate of beer, but anything as ordinary and necessary as food is ignored completely.

When I get back I bring the bags into the kitchen and put everything away. In the living room I find Sal strewn out on the sofa, semi-conscious. My gut turns over when I see the used needles on the coffee table. It didn't take Dad too long to return to his extremes. He'd once told me that heroin is like the finest fillet steak, everything else just seems like plain old frozen chicken in comparison.

I take a step closer to Sal and study her aura to make sure she's not in the danger zone. She seems okay, high but okay. She stirs and makes a few noises before her eyes open halfway.

“
Where's Dad?” I ask her.

“
Gone, don't know where,” she answers, almost incoherently.

I glance over at something that catches my eye on the window sill. It's an urn. Like those ones people place the ashes of their dead loved ones in.

“
What's that?” I ask Sal, and she sits up a little to see what I'm talking about.