11.

Tristan closed the door to her bedroom, locking it behind her to be sure that Julian wasn't going to barge in at any moment. He could, she figured, come knocking and looking for answers about his car. She knew it was only a matter of time before Julian saw what had become of his vehicle, and she knew he wouldn't be happy about it.

Tristan had to keep Esme a secret from her dads, and it seemed that so far it was working out in her favour. Julian was always hovering around, wanting to know what Tristan was up to. Today, despite the odd behaviour, he didn't press her any further for answers. Instead, Tristan had simply closed the door and moved on.

Tristan turned around to see the little God poking and prodding at all of Tristan's earthly possessions, she was suddenly less worried about what Julian had to say. Instead, Tristan only wanted to know more about Esme, her new found God, focusing all of her energy on that.

Esme was flabbergasted at the changes that had happened in the last five decades. She seemed curious about technology to an extent, but her eyes were drawn to Tristan's collection of books. There wasn't much to brag about on Tristan's bookshelf, but there were some literary pieces from the last decade or so that Tristan had acquired. Esme thumbed the spines of the books in front of her, pulling out one to scan over the back.

"Sorry, I really like cheesy Sci-Fi books," Tristan mumbled. "Outer worlds interest me."

Esme glanced over her shoulder to smile at Tristan before setting the first book back onto the shelf. Something else caught Esme's attention and soon she was over at it. She had picked up Tristan's photo album, something Esme had seen as valuable to get to know Tristan better. At first Tristan cringed when she saw Esme pick up the album, not wanting Esme to see all of her old memories. Partially because those very same memories were bittersweet to Tristan now.

Tristan approached Esme on the other side of the bedroom, eyeing the photos of herself in a happier time. It was the first time in months that Tristan had opened that photo album, not wanting to remind herself of the pain associated with how happy she once was. But now, as she glanced over Esme's shoulder at the pictures, Tristan felt transported back into a time when things were better.

As much as it pained her, Tristan plucked a photograph from the album that Esme was mindlessly flipping through. Tristan examined the picture closer, a smile attempting to crack through her hardened exterior but ultimately failing. Because the picture that Tristan was holding was of her and Twila, a memory that Tristan had once cherished. Now the mood had changed, and Tristan simply felt jilted.

"I don't understand why she continues to lie," Tristan stated, thumbing some of the dust from the picture.

"She chooses to believe the lie," Esme corrected.

Tristan nodded before handing the picture to Esme to put it in the album where it belonged. She didn't want to keep looking at the two happy faces when all she wanted to do was cry now. For the most part, Tristan didn't want to let her tears be seen by anyone. She couldn't let people see her cry, otherwise she would be showing her weakness. It was a risk Tristan couldn't take.

It was bad enough that Tristan had to undergo harassment at school, she hated to admit that at one point it crossed over into her time at home, too. Twila's friends, particularly Dominic and Jessica, had made it their mission to spam call Tristan's personal phone number to the point where Tristan had to cancel her phone plan. The persistent calls would probably have continued if Tristan kept her phone active. Now she felt detached from what was going on in the world since she had no phone to rely on for information.

Julian and Mike had thought that Tristan was being smart by cancelling her phone plan, that she was preparing to save money for college. Their opinions had changed on that when Tristan quit her part-time job halfway through the summer. If she was thinking about money, why would she quit her job?

Meanwhile, Tristan kept her troubles a secret from her dads. She felt that she was a burden to her family now that she was nearly old enough to move out and go to college. She had one final year of high school before that would happen, and yet her parents seemed more than ready for her to leave sooner rather than later.

They wouldn't understand what was going on with Twila and her friends. Most of all, Tristan wanted to protect Twila despite everything the girl had put her through. Because deep down Tristan was still in love with Twila, wishing for their relationship to be repaired eventually.

Esme eyed the picture of Tristan and Twila for a long time before setting it back in the photo album, turning her attention to Tristan.

"Why do you still cry over her?" Esme asked.

Tristan wasn't crying now and yet Esme knew that Tristan often did when no one was looking, when no one was around to judge her.

"It's stupid," Tristan replied. "You wouldn't get it."

Esme set the album down on Tristan's desk before she read Tristan's face to better understand her. Tristan turned away before Esme could get a good idea of what Tristan was feeling.

"I'd like to get it," Esme responded, tiptoeing up to Tristan. She set one hand on Tristan's shoulder, a loving gesture and yet it meant so much more to Esme. As Esme was perceptive and had senses that the average human did not. Touch had a whole new dimension for a God, and Esme was using it to her advantage in this moment. Because as Esme held her hand, patiently, on Tristan's shoulder, she was absorbing the emotions that Tristan was radiating.

Esme pulled her hand away slowly, fully understanding why Tristan had to act the way she did.

"You still love her," Esme stated, matter-of-factly. "Even after all she's put you through, you still want her to be the Twila you love."

"The Twila I loved," Tristan corrected. "I can't bring back the past."

Esme nodded. "You're right. But, you can make the future a little bit brighter."

Tristan wasn't sure what Esme had in mind. "Is it safe to do that?"

This made Esme laugh, which turned out to be a beautiful cacophony of sound. The sound made Tristan's heart flutter, trying to push down the feeling the best that she could. Esme settled soon after, a smile still marked on her face.

"I would never put you in any danger," Esme replied. "Besides, it's going to be a lot of fun helping you get your life back. I think it will be easy to do."

"You've hooked me already," Tristan laughed. She looked over Esme's dirty and ripped dress, pointing to it. "First we should get you something clean to wear."

Esme's smile seemed to fade slightly, pressing out her dress despite it being covered in dirt and years of must. She didn't seem to want to part with her dress, but knew she had to once she thought it over for a minute or two.

"I suppose you're right. Do you have any dresses?" Esme asked, perking up a little at the idea.

Tristan laughed. "The only dress I have is my grad dress from middle school, and I was already over five-foot-nine back then. You're all of --- what? Maybe five-foot-two?"

Esme puffed out her chest. "Five-foot-three!"

"You're exaggerating," Tristan looked Esme over once, shaking her head. "You're so... little."

"I think this body was designed perfectly for me, thank you," Esme corrected, again.

Tristan couldn't help but find Esme somewhat endearing when challenged about her size. Small but feisty, like a little dog with a big attitude. This made Tristan giggle. Esme shot her a look, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, maybe I can't wear your dress. Do you have anything that I can wear?" Esme asked.

Shrugging, Tristan gestured for Esme to follow her over to the closet to see what was available. The two picked through a few clothing articles, coming up with drastically different options. Esme had picked out the shirt that Tristan wore to her grandmother's wake, while Tristan found a hooded sweatshirt that fit a little more snug on her than it would on Esme.

The two couldn't help but laugh at how different the options were. Esme put aside her shirt in favour of what Tristan had picked out, accepting the sweatshirt. Tristan then looked through her dresser drawers to see if she could find a pair of jogging pants that were small enough to fit Esme. Meanwhile, Esme snuck past Tristan in order to pluck out a pair of denim shorts. Tristan wasn't sure if the waist would fit Esme, but Esme didn't seem to care. Instead, Esme pointed to a belt that was hanging from the back of Tristan's closet door. Tristan grabbed it to hand over to her.

"I can take a sponge bath," Esme stated, scanning down at her dirty feet and hands. "If you don't mind."

Tristan felt bad that she couldn't offer her guest an actual shower, but due to both of her dads being home, Tristan knew she had to keep Esme hidden.

"I don't mind. Let me go get a basin and fill it up with warm water. I'll get some soap, too," Tristan replied, scurrying off to the hallway. She left the bedroom door open a crack, obviously not worried about either parent coming upstairs at that moment.

Esme decided to undress herself, gently folding her dress and setting it on the edge of Tristan's bed. Esme then crossed the room, in nothing but her bare skin, until she sat down at the desk chair.

When Tristan returned with the basin of warm water and soap, she didn't expect to find Esme naked sitting with her back turned to the door, pawing through a magazine. Tristan nearly dropped the basin, quickly spinning around so that she didn't see anything she wasn't supposed to.

Fumbling with the lock on the door, Tristan caught Esme's attention now. Esme got up from the chair, striding across the room as if nothing was wrong. Tristan finally got the door locked and slammed her eyes shut, shoving the water basin over to Esme.

Esme couldn't help but laugh, unsure of why Tristan was acting so weird.

"Have you never seen a naked body before?" Esme asked, curiously.

Tristan kept her eyes closed. "I'd prefer not to discuss that."

Esme took the basin from Tristan finally, heading over to the desk to place it on the top. There was already a washcloth in the water, ready for Esme to use. She bathed herself carelessly at the desk as Tristan kept her back turned.

Tristan wasn't used to how comfortable Esme was in her body, especially seeing as how this was now Tristan's God that she believed in and respected. She didn't want to be awkward around Esme, but it was hard to when the small God was bathing herself at Tristan's desk without a care.

Still keeping her back turned, Tristan sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the sound of the water splashing softly every time Esme dipped her cloth into it.

"So, what's the plan?" Tristan asked, trying to focus on anything other than Esme bathing herself. "I mean, what are we going to do to convince Twila of the truth?"

Esme took a moment to think before she answered.

"That really depends on you, Tristan, and what you want me to do. I can make it easy by snapping my fingers and having Twila believe you no matter what."

"But will it be real?" Tristan asked.

Esme paused. "Maybe not real, but it will help convince her of what is real."

"Convince or manipulate?" Tristan persisted.

Esme didn't respond at first, trying to think through her answer just as carefully as before. Tristan took this as a sign of the truth coming out, that Esme intended to use her manipulation tactics to get Twila to believe Tristan. But was that fair? Tristan wondered.

"Does it matter? Either way she's going to believe what you say," Esme replied.

"Only because you are forcing her to," Tristan said, a little ignorantly. "I want her to actually want to believe me. So, we have to think of a better way to get Twila to listen."

"Well, that was the easy route. The hard route will be up to me, won't it?" Esme pondered. "I think it would be best if we take away Twila's power."

"What power?"

"You know what I'm talking about. The way that Twila has everyone wrapped around her finger. If I take that away, she won't feel so invincible."

"And how would you do that?" Tristan asked.

"If she doesn't have her friends and her followers --- for lack of a better term, then what choice does she have then to finally give you a chance if you are the only one willing to be there for her?"

"Isn't that just as bad as what she's done to me?" Tristan felt unsure about Esme's plan.

"A little taste of her own medicine won't hurt her," Esme replied. "Besides, I promised you that I wouldn't manipulate her. I just want her to understand that the road goes both ways."

"It does, and I wish she could understand that without having to stoop to her level," Tristan said.

Esme finished washing herself, grabbing one of the towels from the back of Tristan's door that were hanging there. She dabbed herself off gently before sliding into the oversized sweatshirt and the jean shorts. She looped the belt around herself tightly, as far as the belt would allow. When she was dressed, Esme walked over and joined Tristan on the edge of the bed.

"It's not stooping to her level, it's simply playing the game she started," Esme replied, nudging Tristan softly. "And we're going to win."

"No one gets hurt?" Tristan interrupted Esme's encouragement.

Esme shook her head, her hair was still slightly damp at the ends from dipping it into the water basin.

"Not a soul," Esme replied. "We can do this in a way that can be fun and beneficial."

"I don't want it to be fun," Tristan mumbled. "Nothing about this experience has been entertaining in the slightest."

"Too bad," Esme said, sticking her tongue out at Tristan. "Lighten up. We need to get you having more fun than you have been lately."

Tristan shifted around uncomfortably beside Esme, ready to interject once more but Esme shook her head and didn't allow Tristan to continue. Esme hopped up from the bed and crossed the room to the dresser where she could brush her hair out.

Just then, Tristan and Esme heard Mike calling for Tristan to come downstairs for dinner. Tristan promised that she would save some for Esme, but it would have to be later before Esme could have any.

Tristan liked the excitement of hiding her new God from everyone for some reason. She liked the idea that Esme was her God and no one else's, that she had been bonded to her forever. It made Tristan feel special for once in her life, especially at a time when she felt so low. That all had changed with a sauce can and a little blood. Now Esme was here to stay and for Tristan to believe in. A God sent to save her from high school.