Clarke gets changed and I wait inside. His blue and red Badminton Uniform is replaced with his school slacks and shirt. By the time we're finished the coach says Clarke can stay an hour later next practise and he can leave early. He and Darrin walk Mianna and I to the next station so we can catch the 4:25pm train instead of waiting at our normal station for the 5:00pm train. His hand is in mine the whole way and he looks at my sore cheek, asking me about Klaer's bullying. There's a certain tone of anxiety in his voice and I'd very much like it if we change the subject.

I continuously tell him to give me a chance to sort it out independently. Eventually, he accepts it, but something tells me there is something more to his questions. But I run out of time to ask, as the train is already at the platform when Mianna and I arrive. We say goodbye, Clarke hugging me for a few more moments than he had before. We ran in just before the train doors close.

Mianna and I have to stand and hold onto the poles as all the seats have been taken. We're quiet for many minutes as we watch people file in and out of the train. It gets fuller and fuller as we get closer and closer to the city. If we attempted to speak I wouldn't be able to hear anyone. Sandwiched up against Mianna and a workman I don't know, I wish I am at home in bed. It takes thirty minutes to get to my station. I say goodbye to Mianna in a hurry and she tries to speak to me but I drown out the noise.

I dread having to explain where I am to my father. I take my phone on of my bag and see I've got seven missed calls:

Dad. 5 mins ago.

Dad. 15 mins ago.

Dad. 35 mins ago.

Emmet. 40 mins ago.

Dad. 50 mins ago.

Mum. 1 hr ago.

Dad. 1 hr 10 mins ago.

I forgot how Emmet and the others were coming over in the shock of what had happened. Emmet, of course, left a voicemail but it is inaudible, he must've had a finger over the mic. Mum wants to know if I wanted more mandarins. Dad... well Dad wants to know where the hell I was.

I ponder whether I should call Dad or not, finger hovering over the call button. I put my phone away and take a seat on the nearest station bench. I close my eyes, leaning my head back and listening to the people mill around the station.

Rrough hands pull me up from my seat and drag me out of the station. When we're in the streets I notice that I'm not being kidnapped and that it's my father. He's furious. His whole face is red and his eyes are filled with anger and anxiety at the same time.

"Where have you been young lady?" he demands as he pulls me back to the apartment block. "Does that bandage have anything to do with it?"

"In the library," I lie, feeling the deceit burn in the back of my throat.

"How can a place full of books cause the need for a massive bandage on your face?" he asks as we enter the lift.

"My scratch wept and it was the only bandage that covered it."

"You could've at least returned my five calls or texted me where you were and what the hell you were doing there. For all I knew you could've been taken captive by extra-terrestrials and taken to Neptune or attacked by a parliament of owls and left to bleed to death."

I look up at the roof of the lift at the fire exit and wonder what the success rates of an escape would be.

"Petria Kafka! You don't know how much you scared me!" Dad yells, pulling me into a hug as the lift opens and he drags me out.

"Look Dad, I'm really sorry for stressing you out like that," I confess.

"And?"

"Not letting you know where I was and what the hell I was doing there."

"And?"

"Um... disobeying you?"

He looks pleased, "I forgive you but there will be consequences," he unlocks the door and I swallow back a groan, "If you can't get home yourself, then your mother and I won't be able to trust you to catch the train anymore. We'll have to drive you."

"Give me another chance, Dad. I promise it won't happen again," I defend as I dump my bag by my study.

"Fine, kid. But one more strike and you're out," he orders. He then hugs me tight, "I love you Petria, so does your mother, please don't do this again."

"I love you, and I won't...I - I promise."

"Thank you, now go do your homework. Have a mandarin."

I screw my nose up and go to my study, beginning my maths homework. iGeometry. It's too mundane to keep my interested. I stare at the poster of a hedgehog I have had on my wall since Year 5, which Mianna gave to me. The hedgehog has a wreath of flowers over its head. 

I hear my phone vibrate, as it is so quiet. It's Emmet calling, he asks to come over and do homework and I kindly (well as kindly as possible) tell him I'm too tired and maybe next week. He sound disappointed but when I ask about the football score he seems excited and blabs on about it until his mum calls him to dinner.

I finish my maths homework (after slaving away over a calculator, textbook and protractor). When Dad's in his office, I tip my uneaten salad in the bin as the quinoa smelt like flatulence, which was not a good sign. Mum comes prancing through the door still clad in her scrubs, enthusiastically kissing me on my battered cheek and glides into dad's study.

I pack my homework away and get out my sketch pad. I lay out all my pencils in order from "2H" to "8B". Not knowing what to draw, I sharpen them and stare at my blank page. I begin to sketch out what I remember of Clarke's worried expression. His hair, his eyes, which were wide in fear. His eyeborws, arches and dark, the curve of his nose, the small cut by his lip... But I can't draw his eyes right... they just don't capture the emotion.

I throw my pencil back on my page in frustration and lay my head on my page, pressurising to my sore cheek.

"Ow."

My phone vibrates, I glare at it trying to intimidate the inanimate object. Mianna is video calling, I try to flatten my hair and accept.

"Tria, Tria, Tria!"

"Hey," I say.

"How are you? How's your cheek?"

"Dad yelled at me and threatened to take away train privileges, and my cheek hurts since I just applied pressure."

"Lemme kiss it better," Mianna kisses the camera of her phone and I pretend to vomit leaving her in a giggling fit.

"Why are you calling," I ask a little bluntly.

"I just wanted to talk to you. And so do other people. Can I add Clarke and Darrin to the call?" she asks.

My stomach flips in anticipation, "Sure, do you have-"

"Yep, Darrin gave them to me willingly just then."

"So no nerf gun pressed against his forehead?"

She snorts and does some fancy tapping and Clarke and Darrin's icons fill a third of my phone screen and eventually their faces. I move into my bedroom and shut all my door in case my parents come prying.

"Hey, Tria!" Clarke beams, I try to smile back, "how's your cheek?"

"Hey," I reply, "My cheek's alright, thanks to your nursing skills."

He smiles even wider. Darrin greets me and I grin back, cheek tingling a bit. I stare at Clarke's third of my screen and notice he looks a little flushed.

"Are you okay Clarke?" I ask, I hear typing coming from his outlined third and frown.

"I'm good, Tria."

At the same time, all three hold up a USB. I gulp.

"The recording and video is saved onto four USBs and saved on iCloud and DropBox. There's no way we can lose it, and no way that Klaer will be able to get her dirty little hands on it."

"Unless she has some good hacking skills or steals a USB, how do we know she won't get it?" I retort.

"It's been deleted off my phone," Mianna sighs.

"Klaer got a D in Computer Digital Technology," Clarke states, "she told me even though I tried to nicely remind her I didn't really care."

"And all USBs are being kept home until further notice," Mianna smirks.

"Hold up," I interrupt, "You said four USBs."

"I'm going to give a copy to you," Clarke says, holding up another USB, "but not at school."

"Are these USBs coming out of your brains or something?" I ask.

"They were on sale at K-mart," Darrin shrugs and rubs his hands together, "I do like me a good deal."

"Look, I appreciate you guys doing this for me... but you don't need to go to that much effort."

"They were on sale!" Darrin protests, and I see Mianna smile. 

"Petria... we just want to help you and be prepared in case you need to tell someone about this you know... in case things get really serious," Mianna explains.

"Thank you," I whisper, hugging my knees.

"Hey listen to my swanky assonance skills," Mianna interrupts, "We don't care about Klaer. BOOM!"

She clicks her fingers and winks, we all applaud slowly. 

"Mianna..." Darrin shakes his head, "that's not that good." 

"It so is!" 

"Petria, it's time for dinner!" Dad yells.

"I've got to go. Thank you for doing this," I say.

"Anything for you," Mianna beams.

Darrin nods, saluting. Clarke says bye, my face goes warm. I hand up and leave my room... to try and eat. As I sit at the table picking at my salad with my unharmed cheek leaning on my hand, mum and dad are both staring at me. They look at sideways at each other and I take a mouthful. The food feels like I'm swallowing glass in my throat.

I almost feel like vomiting.