Chapter Two: Maple Bacon with a Side of Lies

It had been two days since our run-in with Duke at Blue's Diner. After finishing up our last plate of food that evening, Ava and I went to her place for a sleepover. We spent the night chatting about Duke's meltdown and the frustration I had felt in the moment.

"I wanted to say something! I really did. I just… I got in my head about it," I told Ava. She grabbed my index finger and proceeded to paint it the vibrant coral pink I had chosen.

"I know, Reese. But don't be so hard on yourself. Everyone is different. You happen to be the most empathetic person I know. You have a big heart, and the way I see it, that just stops you from being reckless. It also means that you're quick to consider everyone else's needs and feelings before you consider your own. That isn't exactly a common quality people have nowadays. Be proud of it!" she told me reassuringly.

"I mean I guess it can be a good quality, but I just want to say what's on my mind for once! Feeling like I can't stand up for what I believe in, especially when it means standing up for the people I love, just makes me feel weak and kind of useless," I said solemnly.

Ava stopped painting my nails. She let out a soft sigh and grabbed my chin gently. As she lifted my gaze to meet hers, she spoke softly: "Reese. You are not weak. Being emotional or sensitive doesn't make you weak. You're strong enough to feel all of the things the rest of us bottle up or ignore. Sure, you get in your own head a lot, but over-thinking is one of the things that makes you YOU. It keeps us safe when we go out. It's what makes you so resourceful in a pinch. It's why you're so good at narrating people's thoughts in the diner!" Ava and I both let out a chuckle. "You're observant. Plus, you've always had a soft spot for Duke. Not to mention that you've been dealing with all the chaos at home. So, I'd say you're pretty damn strong, Reese Asher Brooks. Don't you ever forget that." Ava looked into my eyes for a moment longer, trying to really send the message home with her gaze. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. She has said that more than once to me when it hit 3 a.m. at one of our sleepovers, and I always chalked it up to the sleep deprivation. But maybe Ava was right. If she saw me as this incredible human being, then why couldn't I? I ignored her Duke comment. I wasn't about to start a debate this late. I signed thank you at Ava and gave her my hand back to finish painting my nails. I'd been learning sign language since my Freshman year at Fallhaven High. Jaime Fisher was a student I met in Geography class during that year. He was deaf, and the school couldn't provide an interpreter for him. So, I made it a point to learn. The way I saw it, pushing a deaf student to navigate through the hearing world with no help or effort on our part seemed ignorant and selfish. Once my classes started, Ava made me promise to teach her some signs, so that she could communicate with him, as well. Jaime ended up transferring schools at the end of Freshman year, but I decided it was still vital that I learn sign language. Ava promised that she would practice with me. Now, the two of us communicate using signs every so often. It helps me to remember what I've learned, but it also comes in handy when we need to communicate something important in a crowded space or difficult situation, like at the diner.

We pulled a classic all-nighter taking silly BuzzFeed quizzes and watching horror films, which meant we spent the next day falling asleep during our morning classes. Stern talks from our teachers ensued, but Ava charmed her way out of any possible detention slips for the both of us. Ah, good ole' Ava charm. It's definitely her best superpower. But even her superior charm couldn't stop coach Callahan from ripping me a new one for being sluggish during volleyball practice after school. We managed to get through the next few days by clinging to each other, as we normally did. I also spent those days keeping an eye out for Duke, but he didn't come to school. I couldn't help but feel a tightness in my chest when I thought about him. What if Ava's confrontation at the diner made him feel worse about everything? Did he really have something say to me that night or had I imagined it? Well, I guess I won't be finding out anytime soon.

Fridays have always been my favorite. I'm sure most people would agree with that statement, but I like them for a different reason. Of course, Fridays mean the start of the weekend and the possibility of a night of debauchery. But I love them because every Friday morning, Ava and I would meet up and get ready for school together – we make a whole event of it. We started this tradition back in elementary school and have kept it up ever since. We alternate houses every week, and this particular Friday meant my place would become our own personal runway. Ava and I would pick each other's outfits, which meant she usually pushed me out of my Jeans-And-A-Graphic-Tee comfort zone and dressed me in something flirty or trendy. Over the years, I've grown to love dressing up super feminine from time to time. Getting all dolled up for something – even something as mundane as school – makes me feel confident. Ava picked up on this a long time ago and continues to style me in what she thinks will make me feel my best. Today, Ava picked out a pair of high-waisted, black, ripped skinny jeans and paired it with a cropped, off-the-shoulder, white corduroy, sweater. She also grabbed my favorite dainty crescent moon necklace and a thin, gold ring with small rose gold jewels on them. She finished off the look with my lucky pair of white vans. It was perfect! Ava usually dresses in dark colours and loves her ripped jeans and leather jacket combo more than life itself. I typically try and push her out of her comfort zone by styling her with different colours, prints, or bougie-looking clothes, but she often resists it. So as a compromise, I picked out her favorite pair of bright blue boyfriend cut jeans and paired it with a white peplum-shaped tie top. I gave her my black leather Gucci belt to pull the look together. My parents gave me that belt after one of their fights. They didn't realize I was standing in the corridor of the kitchen watching them scream at each other for over 10 minutes. It's the most expensive thing I own, and I usually lend it to Ava because it only brings me bad memories. Besides, I know she secretly loves it because she smirks when she adjusts it every time we pass by a mirror. I grabbed a pair of hoop earrings to go with her dainty silver sun necklace to finish off her look. I usually let her pick her own shoes. The last time I styled her in wedges, she complained about her feet hurting for the entire day – and several days after that. Needless to say, I learned my lesson. Ava reached for her black converse and tied her hair into a loose, low bun. She had naturally thick, curly hair but would often straighten it like her mother. She always said her thick Latin curls were too much maintenance, but effort or not, they always looked stunning to me.

"Alright, let's get some curls in your hair!" Ava said excitedly. As I stepped in front of the mirror while she grabbed the curling iron, I couldn't help but over-analyze my body. My dark hair was a mess with half wavy, half straight strands, which happened to be my unfortunate natural curl pattern. I sighed as I stepped closer to the mirror. The light freckles on my nose seemed to stand out against my olive skin a bit more today, which I didn't mind. I gritted my teeth – summoning the dimples in my cheeks in the process – to make sure they were clean and shiny. My dark eyes trailed down to my waist. I reached for my sides, and pushed at the fat that protruded out under the waistband of my skirt, as if I were trying to push it back into my body and out of sight. I stared at my broad shoulders and furrowed my brows at my larger build.

"That scowl needs to stop, Reese. There's nothing in that view that is worthy of a scowl," Ava said with a warning tone as she plugged the curling iron into the outlet beside the mirror.

"You're my friend. You have to say that to me. It's like asking your mom if you're special. It doesn't count," I retorted.

"First of all, I am your BEST friend. Let's get that straight. Second, you ARE special and third, my best friend status means my opinion counts even more. Besides, have I ever lied to you?" she asked with a raised brow.

I sighed in defeat. "No." I knew I was about to be lectured. Ava and I really were honest with each other about everything. I knew she wholeheartedly believed in what she was about to say.

Ava began to pick up strands from the back of my head and wrap them around the iron. "I don't exactly understand why this has been a reoccurring thought in your head lately. We've been through this the last few Fridays, and if I need to be here to remind you of how beautiful you are for every Friday in our future, you bet your ass I will. I'll just be naggier and saggier when I'm older," she chuckled.

I couldn't help but smile at her response. Sassy and supportive all at once – that's definitely Ava in a nutshell. I've always been insecure, but Ava is right: I've been worse lately. Maybe the stress of school and the Lyla situation is just getting to me. Or maybe it's just a teenage thing, as my mother would say. As she moved on to the strands beside my ears, she shifted her body around me. We were both standing in the mirror now. I looked at Ava's small frame in the reflection. Other than our size and eye colour, we looked quite similar. Ava had bright blue eyes with traces of brown around the center and mine were just a stark, dark brown. Her tanned skin, angular jaw and big smile mirrored mine. Her brows were slightly less full in comparison, but they framed her face perfectly. When we were younger, our parents always said we looked alike and would put us in matching outfits. They had to stop pretty early on because my parents mistook Ava for me once at a carnival. If I remember correctly, they were arguing about something when they grabbed her by the hand and took her to the car, probably in a rush to finish the argument at home. I remember looking back at Ava's mom, Joan, who was grabbing popcorn for us a few stalls away. When she came back to where she left us, her eyes grew wide in horror. I recall her dropping the popcorn, grabbing me by the shoulders and shrieking, "Where's Ava?!"I don't remember what happened next, but according to my parents, Joan came running towards the car, wailing for them not to drive off. My parents had already buckled Ava in and were seated in the car when they saw Joan holding me in her arms and finally realized what had happened. It's something we laugh about now, but when I think about the panicked expression on Joan's face the moment she thought Ava was missing, I can't help but feel sad for her. Given her reaction at the carnival all those years ago, I don't think Ava was exaggerating when she complained about how her mom has been acting since the night of Lyla's disappearance. Though, personally, I find the carnival switch-up quite comical since we're neighbours. If my parents had driven home, Ava wouldn't be far from hers. I always wondered why Joan didn't realize that. Then again, from a parental perspective, the thought of losing your kid must be scary, and in the rush of the moment, she probably just forgot everything else.

"Alright. You're all done! What do you think of my masterpiece?" Ava said, stepping back to admire her work. I tilted my head, fiddled with my soft and shiny curls. I loved being pampered. Having my hair done always made me feel like a new person.

"I love them, Ave. Thanks. I know I've been a bit more needy and insecure lately. I can feel it and I–"

"Oh, Reese," Ava cut me off.

"No, no! I need to say this, Ave. I know I've been a bit more insecure of late and you've been so understanding and supportive about it. I know that it's our thing – to cling – but I can feel that I've been even clingier than usual, so I just wanted to say that I really appreciate you for being so supportive and letting me cling. And cling. Aaaaaand cling," I said.

"Yep, yeah, I got it," Ava replied sharply. We both let out a healthy laugh. "Don't even sweat it, Reese. I got you."

We grabbed our backpacks and headed into the kitchen. My mom had already laid out plates with eggs, pancakes, and maple bacon. She was wearing an apron that read, Wooden Spoon Survivor, which always made me chuckle. My mom was born in Pakistan and moved to England when she was just a child. Eventually, she met my dad there, got married and moved here, to Fallhaven, where they had me. I inherited my olive skin and freckles from my mom, as well as the ability to claim the Wooden Spoon Survivor title. It was an unfortunate tradition for an elder to keep a wooden spoon beside them while their child or grandchild ate a meal. If they were fussy and didn't want to finish the meal, we would be "threatened" by the visual of the wooden spoon. If you were really bad, you got tapped on the wrist with it. Never hard enough to leave a mark or hurt too badly but just enough to say, "you better finish." According to my mom, my grandma loved that wooden spoon. My mom was a little gentler with her use of it on me. She only kept it beside her as a scare tactic and once she started treating children in her practice, she realized that it wasn't the most effective method of teaching kids. My mom has been a therapist for years and is often buried in work. Breakfasts like these are really the only time I see her.

"Morning, girls!" my mom shouted over the stove's exhaust fan. "Come, sit! Your plates are already on the table, help yourselves!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Brooks! Don't mind if I do," Ava called back as she sunk into a chair and began loading her plate up with maple bacon and pancakes. I rolled my eyes and let out a laugh at the sight of Ava's pancake tower.

"So, mom, remember I'll be home a bit late today. We're doing that project for Mr. Simmons' class and we're heading to Blackwater Forest to find our old time capsule," I half lied. I wanted my parents to know where I would be, but I didn't plan on telling them it was just for fun, otherwise this adventure would have been cancelled from the get-go. I could see Ava grinning into her plate as she digested the lie I had just told. Oh, the things I do for this girl. I could feel my stomach begin to twist and turn inside me. Lying always gave me anxiety.

"Tell me again – what is this project, and why does it require you to go into the woods right now? With everything going on, couldn't you just –"

I cut my mom's interrogation off as quickly as I could. The more questions she asks, the harder a time I'll have of keeping my story straight. "For Religion class, Mr. Simmons wants us to find a symbolic relic from our past that could still be a relevant artifact in our lives today. Since the time capsule is a symbol of our friendship and also has nostalgic items that are still trendy toda– "

"What Reese means," Ava confidently chimed in, attempting to do damage control for my awful explanation, "is that the time capsule has a lot of nostalgic and symbolic value, which is perfect for the class. I mean, with the time capsule, the presentation would practically write itself! And given the nature of everything going on, anything that could make school just a little bit easier would be so appreciated." Ava flashed my mom her not-so-subtle puppy dog eyes. It seemed to pair well enough with her sob story, because my mom fell for it. She sighed in resignation. The Ava charm strikes again.

"Alright, fine. But I want you to call me as soon as you leave for the forest. Send me updates throughout the evening. I'll be working late and won't be home until after midnight tonight, and remember your father is working out of town until tomorrow afternoon, so make sure you text me when you get home. I need some peace of mind if you're going to be doing craziness like this." My mother raised her brows at me as a warning. "And be home before those streetlights come on. Theresa Asher Brooks, I mean it." My mom only addressed me by my full name if I was in trouble or if she was really serious about something.

"Of course, mom. I promise I'll text you." I suddenly felt the weight of guilt take over. Lying about this didn't feel right… but as long as my mom knows where I am, we should be okay… right?

"And I take it Joan knows about this, as well?" my mom asked Ava.

"Oh, of course, Mrs. Brooks! She gave me the go ahead so long as I was with Reese." My mother narrowed her eyes at Ava. She was trying to make her sweat. My mom always said she loved Ava as if she were her own child. But she would also have discussions with my dad when I was a kid about Ava being a "bad influence" on me. I used to yell about how wrong she was, and she eventually let it go. But my mom has always been a bit skeptical of Ava.

"Hmm… Okay. So, you wouldn't mind if I called Joan to confirm?" my mom asked.

"Oh, of course not!" Ava replied without hesitation. "Here, I can even dial for you. My mom just worked a double shift at the diner and was sleeping before I left, but I'm sure she won't mind if we wake her up to confirm," Ava added. I know when Ava is using her charm to get what she wants, and she's laying it on pretty thick here. Ava turned to look at me, and I could tell she noticed my confused expression. She pulled out her phone and began to dial her house number. Maybe she isn't being weird after all.

"Ahh. That's okay, sweetheart," my mom said as she placed a hand over Ava's phone. "I know how hard your mom works. Let's let her rest. I'll give her a call later tonight between clients," my mom interrupted.

Ava put her phone back in her pocket and resumed demolishing her stack of pancakes. After playing a bit of breakfast-catch-up with my mom, I picked out a long, warm, grey jacket to wear. It was almost October, which meant mornings in Fallhaven were starting to get a bit chilly. I grabbed a couple of apples and a container of grapes from the fridge, as well as a few small bags of chips and juice boxes from the pantry. I threw Ava her share of the snacks, and we made our way out the door for school.