Until We Break (Formerly Wicked, Wild, Wonderful)

Original Edition: Chapter Twenty-Two

THE RADIO MINDLESSLY DRONED ON, AIDED BY THE CASUAL TAPPING OF ASPEN'S ACRYLICS ON THE STEERING WHEEL. For the most part, the girls' journey was comfortably quiet and Naomi sat in marvel at how different Riverside seemed to be at night. The traffic, for one, was no longer spilling over the sidewalk. Now, there was so much room that cars could pick up wind and tear down streets, zipping past Naomi's window in flashes of lights and growling engines.

Riverside's nightlife appeared to peak its head out from between cracks in the city in the form of small huddles of friends laughing up sidewalks and lost people stammering out of bars and under yellow streetlights. Even Aspen seemed anew with Riverside's revival. She was bopping her head to the meaningless pop music, going as far as to mumble lyrics she clearly didn't know all the way. Her car smelt of vanilla and other simple flavours that Naomi knew all teenage girls should permeate, but she knew she didn't smell like any of that. She smelt of crusted blood across unhealed scars and dried salt from streams of tears. Perhaps nothing of her was as debilitatingly plain as it should have been and the more she thought about it, the more alien she felt. Naomi couldn't remember Aspen ever being like that either, but now, her vanilla scent was loud as the music dancing in the concise space of her Prius.

Naomi re-adjusted herself in her seat and kept her eyes locked on the world outside. She hadn't even realized when the car stopped. A part of her hoped it never would. "Symphony's Safehouse," Aspen read aloud, smiling up at the lit sign hanging off the border of the roof of the building, flickering in orange. Then she added, "Best cupcakes in Riverside, hands down." Naomi couldn't say she expected much considering the lonely parking lot and the starving lights, but when it came to Aspen Letterman she had to expect something. The poorly painted building with dirty glass windows did not look like a place Aspen Letterman spent her free time. One look through the stained glass revealed the scanty insides with idle staff leaning on counters and lonely people on their laptops hardly paying attention to their food.

Aspen led Naomi into the store's low frame, the insides thick with the scent of fried food and sugar concealing cheap disinfectant. Sweeping what it had to offer, the name was fitting. Bean bags were scattered across the floor and low tables were paired with even lower chairs. The ceiling felt infinite too, even though it couldn't have been more than 8 feet high.

The girls didn't bother to look at the laminated paper menu glued to the wall, instead, they went down into one of the booths in the back, far away from the huge television above the seating counter. They seemed like giants when moving past the furniture, awkward and lanky giants, but nonetheless giants compared to the low furniture. However, the moment they sat, they seemed to shrink in order to fit the room. They were so close to the floor Naomi wondered what was even the point of seats. Unlocking her phone, Aspen asked, "Have you ever been here before?"

Naomi shook her head and waited for her to look back up at her. "We always come here," Aspen continued, "Everyone in the Academy."

"No one ever invited me."

"It's an open invitation, Naomi. Everyone is invited."

"Clearly, not everyone."

Aspen tucked her hair behind her ear. "Fine, then. Don't wait for an invite. Just come."

"And continue to get nasty looks from you guys? Yeah, no thanks,' she grumbled.

"We didn't—"

"Let's not pretend as if a few weeks ago you didn't hate me, Aspen. I haven't forgotten." It was bound to come up eventually.

"I didn't hate you. I just—look, some of the girls said you used to talk to yourself and it was weird."

Naomi immediately knew what she was referring to. The memories resurfaced with vengeance, gushing into every space of her mind despite her struggle to keep it at bay until all she could see was the face of Jessica Kingsley.