Mo has a bad habit of not being able to refuse a bet, no matter what it is about.

Like when the three of them are together, and she complains for ten minutes about the fact that her throat hurts. And it does because Sadie, with one of those small, mischievous smiles that Mo can't stand, Sadie herself challenged her to a who-drinks-boiling-coffee-faster-wins race.

They do it often, it's a little charade Sadie sets up for them (a game of lies, and they both know it) and Mo pretends to fall for every time.

But she can afford to burn her throat every single Tuesday if it means Sadie will still flash her that small, mischievous smile as she splutters coffee drops.
It's fine.

It's fine because maybe Sadie will be happy in those moments. Maybe Sadie's ice-cold hands will tremble as she laughs at Mo's face, even as it hurts because, well, she just poured an entire cup down her throat too.

Mo has a really short temper, and she tends to get violent if insulted or made fun of. And Jem knows that.

She still hates having to patch Mo up after yet another one of those fights she picks knowing she can't win (she could, but that would mean even more black and blue limbs and split lips and calloused knuckles against skin and she doesn't want Jem to be more worried than what she already will be)

It's fine. Jem will still have, always ready, clean bandages and band-aids and a bottle of disinfectant. Not the alcohol one, she knows it burns Mo's skin and she doesn't want to hear her barely hidden hiss, see the way her body tense and her teeth grit (again).

But then Mo will take her on a ride on her red and yellow motorbike, and bring her to her favourite flower shop and buy her a chamomile flowers bouquet (she loves the scent of chamomile on those little, daisy-like flowers, and Mo knows that). It's Mo's way of saying sorry for worrying and thank you for being worried, and Jem accepts both.

Mo loves her girls.
Loves Sadie's smiles and Jem's eyes that light up when she enters the room.

She'd do anything for those two- they're her friends, her family, the marshmellow-sweet love of nights by the campfire, cuddled together.

Monica Carter