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11: Callie

jueka1 bullied me to upload this chapter this weekend in the comments of the last chapter... there's a cliffhanger at the end but you will have to wait until next weekend to read it because I start my job this week. Also... be prepared. This chapter is like almost 5000 words.

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A green tree frog sat in the corner of the cubby eyeing me off. But I was not giving up my hidey-hole, even if the frog had found this place first. Lit up by only my phone screen, I scrolled through my instagram, perusing the lives of the celebrities I admired (because, let's be real, I didn't have many of my friends on it), having avoided the party for a solid half hour now.

Was I wasting 'precious kissing time'? Yes.

But a part of me was determined to try out my new plan I had concocted while stewing in my anger after leaving Lexi inside. If Fraser just came out on his own, I could lie to Lexi later and say he rejected me when she wasn't looking. And then the whole thing would be over with and she'd leave me alone. I just had to wait him out...

Yet as I continued to waste time, lost in the cyberspace of my phone, a voice coming from behind me had me jumping.

"Boo!" he said.

A yelp escaped my mouth and I reached for my leg I had removed, ready to whack the intruder with it. But, after turning around to the little window behind me, I noticed Flynn's face in the small frame.

"You scared the daylight out of me," I hissed, feeling my heartrate begin to slow at my recognition of him.

"But it's night time..." his eyes narrowed. Then his face disappeared from the hole. Some swishing of the grass later, he appeared again, this time kneeling down by the entryway to the cubby.

I quickly reached for my leg again, ready to put it back on, though Flynn's hand shot out.

"You can leave it off, Callie," he said. "It's just me." Then he got on all fours as he started to climb in.

I felt a little strange at the idea of him seeing me without it considering I was so used to people looking at me like I was almost 'normal' these days with my prosthetic to cover the stump, but at the same time, he was right. He was only Flynn. But before I could question him for his sudden appearance here, I had more important matters to attend to.

"Careful!" I exclaimed as he started to crawl in.

Flynn threw me a raised eyebrow.

"You'll hurt Herbert," I said, pointing to my frog friend still squatting in the other corner of the cubby.

Flynn paused, glancing in the direction of Herbert before meeting my gaze with an amused smirk. "You named it?"

Shrugging, I replied, "We've been hanging out for a while now. Seems fitting to at least give him a name."

"Do you know if it's a him?"

Face falling, I turned to the little frog and said, "I apologise if I misgendered you, Herbie."

Flynn let out a chuckle and moved back out of the cubby, getting to his feet. I watched him through the window walk back towards the house, stopping by the tap to turn it on.

Unsure what I had done to scare him away, I turned to the frog, whispering, "Was it me or you he didn't like?"

But I didn't have to wait too long for Herbie's reply. Flynn's footsteps sounded on the grass once more, his face ducking down in the doorway as his dripping hands extended towards the frog.

"Come on, Herbert," he said. "Let's find you a nice tree to hang out in so I can take your spot in here." Then he scooped up the frog in his wet hands and disappeared from my sight once more.

When Flynn returned not much later, he climbed through the doorway and sat down, glancing around at the structure. "This looks bigger from the outside," he mused.

I shrugged in response, not sure what to say to that, and then turned back to my phone.

But Flynn kept glancing around, staring at the walls and the graffiti etched into the wood. "'The Month Sisters' Manor of Mayhem'," he read out. "Huh... What does that mean?" Shaking his curiousity from his head, he then turned to me, grin reforming on his face. "I must say, Callie... I'm surprised to see you at a party. Even if you are hiding out here."

Flicking my screen off, I then turned my head, narrowing my eyes at him. "Don't most people come to parties and hide in breaking down cubby houses?"

Flynn tried and failed to stifle his grin, which smeared across his face as per usual, pulling all the way to his eyes as they glistened in the night. "No. I think that's just a you thing."

Crossing my arms over my chest, trying to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up that would give away my challenging glare, I said, "Well you're at a party and are hiding in a cubby."

But he just shrugged at me. "I saw you out here."

My eyes narrowed.

"I decided to pop outside for some air and was looking around at the yard and thought I saw someone in the cubby. Once I came closer, I saw it was you. You didn't even notice me so I snuck up to scare you." He shrugged as though it were normal.

While I understood his reasons for approaching me at school, I was honestly a little surprised that he'd want to talk to me out of it. Not quite ready to approach that topic, I said, "But you're still out here instead of in there."

"Figured maybe there's a reason you're alone. And perhaps you could use a friend?" The usually cocky grin dropped from his face as his brows softened and his gaze became earnest.

My heart stammered slightly, but somehow I managed to maintain my composure.

Gosh, Callie... Sara says things like this to you all the time. Are you just reacting like this because someone from the opposite sex has noticed you?

"I'm fine," I mumbled, pulling my legs to my chest and staring out the window.

"Yes, your posture totally suggests that." Flynn crossed his own legs, resting an elbow on his knee and craning his head to look at me. "I can't believe I'm actually seeing you outside of school, to be honest."

I shot him a glance before turning to look back at the house. "I came with my sister."

"The famous Callie and Lexi twins," he laughed, finally turning his eyes from me and resting against the cubby wall. "Why'd she come back, by the way?"

"My dad's partner died so they've both moved back. But Lexi is living with me and mum now." I'd be lying if that last part didn't come out as a bit of a grumble—and Flynn seemed to notice this.

"You don't like having her back?"

I pressed my lips together.

"I won't tell her, if that's what you're worried about."

I heaved a sigh. "Sometimes it's nice. But... I don't know. I just don't know her anymore."

"Did you not stay in touch when she moved?"

I shook my head.

"Why not? You guys were inseparable in primary school."

A part of me was surprised that Flynn even noticed me then, because I had barely paid him any attention. "Lexi was... She was with me when I was hit by the train."

Everyone knew how I lost my leg—it was in countless newspapers, all anyone could gossip about at school, and the teachers also gave my classmates a special talk before I had returned to school. So I knew I didn't have to give him more context.

"She said she still remembers it," I then added.

"You don't?"

"No. I apparently passed out not long after. But even the events before I can't remember. The doctors say the mind sometimes forgets traumatic experiences to protect ourselves from reliving it. Also, everything I went through after was intense enough... But Lexi can recall all of it. She apparently couldn't look at me after without remembering it so when mum and dad split up, she quickly jumped at the offer to move with dad to Melbourne. And then we just... stopped talking."

"You didn't see each other again?"

"She visited once a year. But we more often avoided each other. At first it was because she couldn't look at me. And then I just became bitter towards her after endless silences on her side. The other times my mum went to visit her and I stayed here with my aunt."

Flynn nodded slowly. "But you came to a party with her?"

"Not to bond," I grimaced.

But his eyes narrowed.

Shaking my head, I felt my face start to flush. "Lex and I... we... have a bet of sorts. If I... win... she will leave me alone. But if she does, then I have to do something I will really hate."

"What's the bet?"

"Nope."

"Nope?"

"You will not get me to tell you that."

The corners of his lips turned up as he cocked his head to the side. But before he could pry it out of me—which I knew he could considering he had gotten me to confess this much—I decided to change the topic.

"What are you doing at a party?" I asked. "I thought you don't hang out with anyone outside of class."

Flynn breathed a humourless laugh and turned his attention away from me again and back towards the house. "Yeah, I don't have any close friends in our year level. But they always invite me. And I normally go—which you would know if you ever came to them."

"I'm never invited."

"They're open invitations."

"I didn't know they existed."

"I'll tell you about them in future."

I pressed my lips together. "I think I'll be fine..."

Flynn chuckled and shook his hair out of his eyes.

"So... why parties but not hanging out with them at school?"

"I hang out with my cousins at school. And by cousins I mean some are actual cousins and some are just kids of others in my community. But we're all one big family in the end."

A part of me hated that he felt the need to explain what he meant by cousins—as though I would be that ignorant to know they weren't all related. But I didn't hate him for it, merely the people who evidently had no appreciation for his culture that he felt the need to go on such a spiel. "Why do you hang out with them instead of making friends?"

"To make sure they don't wag."

I narrowed my eyes and turned to look at him, though Flynn just grinned at me. "Hypocritical of you."

"Hey, I haven't skipped school since Grade Ten."

"But you have skipped classes."

"Not this year."

"We're only two weeks in..."

"That's some faith you have in me, Callie."

I shrugged in response and looked away once more. It was strange talking to Flynn. In some ways, it was so easy to be myself, like talking to Sara. I felt comfortable sharing my true thoughts about my sister and myself. I felt safe joking with him and making casual chit chat. And it was nice not feeling like he was staring at my stump the whole time.

But I also couldn't deal with the pressure of his obsidian gaze—regardless of how friendly it was—staring into my soul when he looked at me. Making eye contact was apparently something my heart couldn't handle, but I assumed it was just because I wasn't used to talking to boys—even though Flynn was proving that was barely different from talking to Sara.

As the silence went on and I began to feel a little awkward with him just sitting with me, alone in this cubby, I tried to fill the air with useless banter. "Are you drinking tonight?" I asked. That's a question people ask at things like this, right?

But then he said, "I don't drink."

That threw me off guard. Turning my attention fully towards him, I said, "What?"

"I don't drink," he repeated, but his eyes grew sad like he was upset by my reaction or something. Then he flicked his hair out of his eyes once more and looked back towards the house.

"I thought all teens drink," I then mumbled, hoping he wasn't assuming I reacted this way as a result of racist stereotyping. Though I secretly hoped that wasn't also part of why I did react that way. Because who knows if I held some unconscious bias.

"Well are you drinking?" he countered, an eyebrow cocked, the humour still gone from his face.

I shook my head. "I've never..." But I stopped myself before the words left my mouth, facing forward again as I felt my face flush.

"You've never had a drink?" he finished for me, the light was back in his tone.

There's so many things I've never done, I thought in response.

"Oh Callie... Your sister is really bringing you out of your comfort zone since she has been back," he chuckled.

"No she hasn't!" I didn't want her getting any credit for this.

"Well you're at a party? And you are finally having a conversation with someone who isn't Sara or a teacher. And you even spoke in class about your..." He trailed off like most people do when they are unsure how to refer to what remains. But then he firmly said, "Leg."

Did people notice I avoided talking about it? Or was that just Flynn? And if it was just him... why?

"The party is definitely Lexi's fault," I muttered. "The others are because I got my prosthetic though. I feel a little more confident."

His eyes narrowed once more as he glanced around the cubby.

"Confident enough to speak to people but still terrified of the party," I added, knowing he was judging me for hiding in here.

"I see, I see..." he said.

But then that familiar silence fell around us again, making the residual thump from the music inside more noticeable; emphasising the rustling of the wind in the tree overhead; and mading me more aware of how loud the process of swallowing seems to be as I felt my mouth go dry.

I wanted to strike up conversation, not comfortable with the silence between us. Because silence meant vulnerability. Silence gave time to glance around at the surroundings, potentially meaning he might notice my stump more or whether my makeup had smeared. Silence, while noiseless, was ridiculously loud when confined in a small space with someone you don't want to hate you. While I didn't know Flynn, his few gestures of kindness tied with Lexi's stupid idea of getting me out of my comfort zone made me begin to hope of a future where there was just more than Sara in my life. But caring about impressing people so that they stick around meant really reflecting on the parts of myself that might turn someone away—and the silence gave me permission to think about the many things I had that could.

And as much as I wanted to talk to him to distract him from potentially studying me or finding things to dislike, the last topic I had brought up saw the smile slipping on his face as I said something evidently insensitive.

Which only added to my list of trying to make sure he didn't hate me.

But before I could continue to fall down these spiralling thought patterns consumed with self-doubt, Flynn suddenly said, "I want to be different."

My head snapped up, gaze slowly turning to him. But he wasn't looking at me. His midnight eyes stared out into the dim backyard, not really looking at anything, but also seeming far away from here. "Different?" I pressed.

"Than what everyone expects me to be. How people think I should turn out."

I breathed a laugh and said, "Don't we all want that?"

But he shook his head, eyes still fixated on the infinite darkness in the world outside our safe cubby. "Maybe your parents have certain expectations of you. Maybe your friends and teachers. But others don't. I mean, I imagine you have it harder than others considering..." He briefly glanced at my stump before saying, "You have an obvious disability. Sorry if that's not the right term to use."

"I don't mind the term," I quickly intruded.

He nodded, then turned his gaze forward once more. "But it's only the people who know you that expect something from you, right?"

Shrugging, I said, "They are the only opinions that matter."

"See... that is where we are different. For my people, the judgement of everyone else affects us so much more than you can imagine. I don't know my dad. He ran off not long after my mother fell pregnant with me. And mum... Mum, my aunties, my uncles... most of them just keep falling back into this never-ending cycle of suffering."

"What do you mean?" I whispered.

He took a deep breath. "Well, for example, my great grandmother was from the stolen generation, and when one is forcibly separated from their parents and culture at a young age... there's this level of hurt that just continues on. So when she had my grandmother, she didn't know how to be a mum. And she didn't even know who she was... She wasn't a white Australian. But she also grew up being told she couldn't be Aboriginal. That it was shameful to be black and to practice our culture. And having her own kid... she just remembered being a kid herself. With all these painful memories coming back as she looked at her own child... she found it easier to escape her problems by turning to the bottle. And then my grandma grew up, having had no expectations put on her. She didn't aspire to do anything after school. She met my granddad who also was equally in pain and sometimes beat her up. And they both drank their problems away. And then my mum grew up in that environment. My people and our history with this land... Some of us are stuck in these cycles of suffering we can never get out of... and it goes on, generation after generation. Because not until we have true reconciliation, true action for my people, will we see things get better."

I sat in silence as I listened to him talk, not sure what to say. What I could say. I wanted to apologise for the injustices inflicted upon him and his people in the past, and even the present. But, at the same time, I could see in his eyes he wasn't finished. And maybe if I interrupted him now, he wouldn't fully get off his chest what he needed to say. So I waited.

And sure enough, he went on. "So because we have such a cycle of suffering, with complete underrepresentation of my people in higher education, in politics, in white-collar jobs, nothing really ever changes for us. And because we aren't represented in such positions of power, it means many people look at me, look at my skin, and think I won't amount to anything. Because they never see us amounting to anything. To them, we're the kids who steal cars and children of parents who live on the dole and drink their way through life." He shook his head before he continued. "I don't want to fall into the cycle, Callie. I want to break it. I don't want my kids—if I ever have them—to grow up in a home where their parents are in so much pain in their hearts that they don't know how to be there for their child. I don't want to see my kids be like my cousins, going out onto the streets, stealing things, going on joy rides, just to see if their parents will notice them. To see if anyone will notice them. And so... that's why I don't drink. If I don't start now, I surely can't fall into the habit of resorting to it when times are tough... And maybe I have a hope at being different. At breaking the cycle."

I pressed my lips together and waited him out to see if he had anything more to add. But when he snuck a wary glance my way before turning to the ground, I realised it was my turn to say something. "That's... That's a very fair reason."

Shit Callie... he hits you with all that and that's all you have to say?

So I tried again. "I'm sorry for asking, Flynn," I then said. "I didn't mean to bring up painful memories. I was just trying to make small talk—"

He shook his head, that familiar grin starting to appear on his face once more—though not quite meeting his eyes. "I'm surprised you listened. Most people tell me to 'not mention that depressing shit'. Look, I get the question a lot. These days I just say 'I don't feel like it' as my excuse for not drinking. But... I didn't want to give you a half-arsed answer. I didn't tell you all that to make you feel bad, Callie. It's more that... I felt comfortable telling you the truth. And also speaking my truth helps remind me of the path I'm on."

I pressed my lips together and broke eye contact, feeling that warmth flood my cheeks again the longer his obsidian gaze held mine. Picking at a fraying cuticle, I recalled what he said to me earlier in the week. "Is that what you meant about asking Miss Fischer to be tough on you? So that you have that expectation from somewhere?"

Flynn nodded, then ran a hand through his hair. "I can't claim all the credit though. I have one person in my whole community who expects something from me: Uncle Jimmy. He's not actually my uncle but... He's the only one who managed to get through the pain. He got help many years ago and has been working hard to keep the kids off the streets. With the support of some aunties and me."

"What made him—"

"His son got in a stolen car with some of the other kids. They went for a joyride, hit a curb, and ran into a pole. His son died, one of the other kids was hospitalised for a long time, and the driver got juvey... After that pain of burying your own kid... Uncle Jimmy realised it was because he was never there at home that his son had gone out that night. That all those kids felt the need to go out. He took it on himself, and instead of drinking more to deal with the pain, he decided to try changing the fate for his community. Tried to build the community and culture more by talking to the kids, sharing out stories again, teaching them the ways of our people and the land in the hopes to see some healing. It's thanks to Uncle Jimmy that I even can see that light at the metaphorical tunnel. Anyway, Uncle Jimmy checks in on all of us often. I join him for walks most  evenings when he's home from work to talk about the kids and whether any of them are at risk. He was the one who told me what I can ask of my teachers so that I get better at school."

"And... what do you want to do after school?"

A small smile pulled on Flynn's mouth, but the echoes of the story of loss still lingered in his eyes. "I want to go into social work. See how I can develop more community outreach programs for disengaged youth. To help Uncle Jimmy's mission, but not just in my neighbourhood. If more kids finish school, if more believe they too can follow a white man's dream of going to university, then maybe there will be fewer kids on the streets in future. Then less drinking. And less suffering."

"So then... if you don't drink to avoid those habits... aren't you tempted when you come to places like this?"

He heaved a sigh, resting his head against the cubby wall as he stared at the ceiling. "I definitely am. I would love to just let loose like most of those idiots inside do. But I mostly come here as a distraction. I decide not to drink, but being around people my age is therapeutic in some ways, even if they are all drunk. I don't hang out with them at lunches because I'm trying to keep an eye on the kids for Uncle Jimmy. When school finishes, I also walk all the kids home and keep an eye out until Uncle Jimmy gets off work and takes over. Parties are often the only thing on at night and the only normal thing that teens seem to do where I can get a break from the kids."

I nodded slowly. "But here you are... avoiding the party and talking to me."

The grin was fully back on his face now as he nudged me with his elbow. "You're better conversation than the intoxicated idiots."

"This is probably true..."

"Definitely true."

I felt the corners of my lips turn up slightly at the compliment. "So... does Miss Fischer being tough on you help then?"

Flynn pressed his lips together. "It does in bio and it works in most of my other classes with the other teachers. But I just don't mix with maths."

"Maybe you need to get some tutoring?"

His eyes narrowed at me.

"What?"

"Know any free ones within walking distance? Because I don't have a ride when Uncle Jimmy isn't home and public transport still sucks in this town. Once he is home, he's busy with the kids. And I definitely can't afford to pay for a tutor to come to me."

"Oh..." I said, looking to my lap, feeling a little like an idiot for not thinking that suggestion through. "If you want... I could tutor you?"

"You... you would do that?" Suprise consumed his face.

"Yeah, of course. Just... I guess... well, when would work? Lunch breaks obviously won't because you're with your cousins..."

"I'm only free evenings."

Furrowing my brows I said, "Where do you live?"

"Near the high school."

"Well... I'm just over the railroad by the primary school. If you're happy to walk to my house, I could tutor you some evenings? Or I could see if I can get my parents to drop me off at my Aunt's... she lives near the high school."

Flynn's eyes glowed bright as he said, "Oh, Callie... Are you sure that's not too—"

I shook my head, cutting him off. "I get most of my assessment done in class so in my free time I'm just reading."

"I would... really appreciate that. Like a lot."

"Then it's settled." Pulling out my phone again, I flicked open my contacts and passed it to him. "Give me your number and we can arrange a day and time next week."

Flynn pursed his lips.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't normally have credit. I have Wi-fi though so if you're on insta I can add you?"

My eyes widened as I pulled my phone back, recalling the pictures on my private account. Many of me and Sara in all sorts of strange outfits. Some of the books I was reading... Ones Flynn would surely judge me for.

"What? You don't want to add me on—"

"Just... If I do, you have to promise you won't ever tell me you've seen my posts."

Flynn's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Just promise me."

He chuckled and then pulled out his own phone. "Okay. I promise." Moments later, my phone dinged with a follow request. And, begrudgingly, I accepted it.

Yet rather than sticking his own phone away, he continued to scroll.

"Are you looking at my—" I reached for his phone, but he just moved it out of my way like he had predicted what I was going to do. "Flynn!" I whined.

"I can't tell you what I'm looking at. I promised," he laughed. But after I made a few more swipes for his phone, he finally turned the screen off and tucked it back in his pocket. "Sheesh, fine Callie. It's away. You don't have to keep grabbing me." Then he threw me a grin for good measure.

"I will murder you," I said to him.

"Oh yeah? How will you do it?"

I picked up my leg. "Death by beating."

Flynn chuckled, grabbed my prosthetic from me, and put it on the other side of him where I couldn't reach it. "You can have it back when I feel safer in your presence. But first..." He shifted around in his seated position until he was fully facing me. "I opened up to you. It's time you tell me more about that nope."

"What nope?"

Eyes narrowing he said, "What's the bet with your sister, and how can I help?"

OOP! I love cliffhangers :) So this chapter and the next two were supposed to be one... and then I wrote 10,000 words. So I broke it up in cliff-hanger spots ;) Don't worry. We will get enough Lexi later too. It's just I won't always go directly back and forth between them if the story doesn't call for it. I'm sure we all know the beginning of this book is a heavy emphasis on Callie anyway, but both twins will have their time to shine.

Some character art of Flynn and Noah for you:

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