Bastien and I go back to his house. Caro is already there, arms crossed tapping her foot on the porch. I get out of Bastien car without my bag and I look at her. Her overalls have paint on the knees. She's got some on the side of her face closest to me too, just a swipe near her ear that I'm sure she didn't see when she tried to clean herself in the mirror.

"Absolute idiot," she says when she sees me. "You're an idiot."

"I want to go to Québec."

She crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at me. She's tanner then she was when I last saw her, and there are freckles on her face peeking out from the sun's exposure. They aren't red like mine, but they are just as soft.

"Don't be ridiculous," Caro says.

Bastien slams the door behind us. He brushes around me, not with my bag either, and hurries into the house. Caro lets him cross the threshold but moves back when I'm there.

I look down at the watch on my arm, "let me guess, I'm not going anywhere for ten hours until Stéphane arrives?"

Caro scoffs. She digs into her pocket and pulls out keys, "you're not the only Morel who knows how to book a plane ticket, you know. He'll be here soon."

She walks to her car, parked next to Bastien's. When I don't move she huffs and gestures for me to follow her. I have to maneuver around this side and squeeze in the narrow gap between their cars since Bastien pulled in narrow at the front, but then I sit in the car. It smells like air freshener, not paint, which is nice. Caro starts the engine and pulls out.

"Bastien's house is a mess, so I'll give him time to clean," she says as she pulls out of the driveway. It feels so quiet, even with her noisy car engine. "Besides, Stéphane is going to be an anxious nightmare if we leave you and Bastien to your devices for an hour."

"Bastien and I are big kids, you know?" I roll my eyes. "We don't need a babysitter."

She flashes a mean stare at me.

We drive down the street. My hand goes to the car stereo. She lives far enough away that her favourite stations are going to cut out soon, so I put on the player. Jazz music plays. Caro flinches, her hands tightening on the wheel.

A sax solo starts to spread out from the speakers. The blue paint on her face cannot hide her blush. It's pink and vibrant, like mine too.

Reid said he would have always guessed she and I were sisters, back when he saw the photograph of us on the desk. He knew we look alike. I guess we are just the same.

"I wanted the trip to be just you and I, you know," I point out.

Caro tightens her grip, "what were you even thinking? I have a life, you know. I can't just drop it all at a hat for you."

"You did," I answer.

She snorts.

Now it's a piano solo. She switches to the next track in the CD. It's still jazz music, and I watch her nose scrunch. I don't know what she was thinking.

"I'm not like you, you know," I tell her.

Caro laughs, "yeah, I know. I'm a homebody who is pinning herself to a guy her family pretends to tolerate. None of you are good actors, you know?"

"No," I cut her off before she can continue. I lean my head back against the headrest. "You're an emotional sap who cares about everyone else in our family more than yourself. I know you had a great time in France. I know you want to live in Québec, and you don't because the three of us wouldn't go back with you. All you do is sacrifice yourself for everyone, just in a different way then the rest of us."

She doesn't speak. It is dark now, and the streetlights feel like spotlights. I never was on stage. My name never in a newspaper, but people knew. I can run and run and run but there is no place dark enough for the shame. No place where my blush will hide in my pale skin, where I cannot be found by memories and people who love me. Even in the car, with its thick metal roof, driving under the streetlights provides a flash of light. Caro has pores and freckles and moles. A life that I always think she pretends is perfect.

I'm here.

"Bastien fights, Stéphane fawns," she says. "You flee. I freeze. I'm still the same shitty preteen I was when all of that happened."

"Do you know why I left?"

"Because everything here, including us, remind you of that night?"

"Yes," I pause. I turn down the music, tuning out Stéphane and then it is just the two of us. "But I also didn't want people to know. Why do you think we changed out last names and left Québec? Being around all of you makes it hard to keep how it makes me feel from you. I don't enjoy your pity, or making everything about me. I wanted us to drive to Québec and talk about your honeymoon. I wanted to show you I could go, since it matters to you a lot."

"We aren't seeing Maman at Christmas again. Not after she missed my wedding. So if that's what your worried-"

"No," I interrupt. Finally, I screw my eyes shut and bite through the French. "It's about you. Not what happened. I want to show you I'm there for you, here and in Québec. You, Caroline Julie Josee."

She bites the inside of her cheek. I can see just a bit of a smile on it.

Then, I keep going in French. I ask about the honeymoon, and we talk for the next hour about all the amazing things she's seen. She's making a painting of one of the photos. It explains the overalls. She truly did drop it all.

When we get to the airport, Stéphane is waiting outside. He sees me in the passenger seat and visibly exhales. He piles into the backseat and thankfully doesn't interrupt Caro's story about dancing in a lavender field. Soon, enough though, we are pulling away, and Stéphane is asking questions too, and all three of us are speaking French the entire car ride back.

It is nearly midnight, and we are three hours away from the border when we arrive to Basiten's makeshift home. Caro gets out of the car and heads inside. I want to keep moving, even though I'm sure all my siblings are tired. We can chug coffees. There is no way for us to make it there and back tonight without stopping to sleep. I'm sure none of us, even Bastien, are keen to drive at five in the morning.

Bastien's car is unlocked, so I dig through it to grab my bag. I can feel Stéphane hovering behind me. I straighten my spine and look at him.

"You're okay?" he asks.

I shut the car door behind me a shove his shoulder, "better. I just want this to be over."

Stéphane, even with his backpack strung over his shoulder, tries to pry mine from me. I grip my bag tight and gesture for the house.

"Come," I whisper to him. "Let's get some sleep."

He listens, and then all three of us are piled into Bastien's little house. It's a small bungalow, cleaner than I had imagined it although Caro and I did disappear for an hour. Bastien has made us all popcorn. He only has one bedroom, but at least there are enough blankets for all of us. With a movie on the television and my back pressed against the skirt of the couch, I find myself nodding off.

In the morning, when I wake up, the boys are there beside me. Bastien snores softly. I can smell breakfast, surely Caro getting something together for all of us. The sun is up, creeping in through the curtains.

I pop my head in the kitchen. She's making pancakes, a pile already done and stacked up together. I move through the kitchen, digging through the cupboards and drawers to find everything I need. There is more alcohol in here than food, although there are tons of condiments. I pull out butter and maple syrup.

"I drove out early for the pancake mix," Caro whispers.

"You're too sweet," I press my lips together. My teeth feel dirty. "We should leave as soon as everyone is done breakfast and dressed."

Caro furrows her brow, "you really want to go to Québec?"

I shrug, "not precisely."

Before she can ask any more questions, I get myself ready. Brushing my teeth, my hair, and putting on new clothes occupies me while Caro is forced to wake up the boys for breakfast. Bastien is already knocking on the bathroom door while I'm trying to braid my hair. I open it and he's got his plate in his hand and food in his mouth.

"You want to see Maman?"

"Disgusting," I grimace at him.

He cocks an eyebrow, a grin on his face. I push past him out the door.

"Does Maman know?"

"We aren't going to see Maman," I correct him. "I don't even want to cross the border. Can we just hurry it along, please?"

I get to the kitchen where Caro and Stéphane are eating, at least more civilized than my brother. I eat as much as I can muster but the pancakes are too sweet.

Stéphane gets up to wash his plate. He moves in close to me to whisper.

"Did Spencer-"

"Reid?" Bastien looks over. "Your mec? Does he need a beating?"

"Did you tell him about what happened?" Caro joins in.

I roll my eyes. All of them are so annoying. Stéphane grimaces empathetically. Rather than answer any more questions I shake my head.

"We can talk in the car," I make a small concession.

Everyone moves faster after that. Within ten minutes, all of us are piled in Bastien's car, and we are leaving his house, heading toward Québec.

~~~~~

There are only like three chapters left. ARGH! Any predictions? Either with the siblings, or Spencer, or any one else? I'd love to know your thoughts!