Kevin stormed out without saying anything to the parents sitting in the kitchen. A lapse of etiquette I was sure he'd kick himself for later. Alan and Nicole exchanged a look as I rattled through the cupboards, slamming doors until Nicole's hands found my shoulders and guided me to the table.
"Everything okay, dear?"
"Fine. Just wanted a chocolate bar or something."
"Take a seat, love," Alan said, rising. He walked across to a cupboard and pulled it open as I dropped onto a seat, placing my elbows on the kitchen table and resting my chin on my hands.
I was in a mood.
It's been a tough few days and the last thing I needed was an overprotective asshat thinking he could dictate what I did.
Alan passed me a chocolate bar, and I managed a rough smile of thanks before ripping open the wrapper and sinking my teeth into it.
They exchanged another look, and Nicole lifted her chin to Alan before she jerked her head to me. He shook his head, she responded with another jerk of her chin towards me and a narrowing of her eyes that gave sufficient warning for him to clear his throat awkwardly.
"You too have an argument, love?"
No shit.
I glanced up at him as I chewed and considered what to say. I still had no real idea of how close Chloe had been to them, but they seemed like nice people, so I suspected she at least talked to them. Which, I had to admit, was something I never did with my mum.
"He's so… stubborn!" I said. "Like, he just wouldn't let up and let me do what I need to do."
"What's that then, dear?"
I shifted my attention to Nicole, expecting more support from her. You know, chicks against the idiot dude sort of thing that I'd always heard so much about.
"He wouldn't let up! Just on and on and on, the same thing. Like I can't be trusted to make my own mind up."
"Okay, love," Alan said. "What were you two arguing about so loudly?"
I winced.
Yeah, I'd been shouting towards the end.
That wasn't how I argued. Heck, if I got into an argument, I tended to hit the guy and that was it. The shouting must have been another remnant of Chloe.
He was just so bloody stubborn.
I sucked in a deep breath and unclenched my fists. "I want to do some volunteering."
The parents exchanged a look that spoke volumes, and I took another bite of my chocolate.
"Are you sure-"
"Yes!"
Okay, way too loud. Alan looked like a rabbit caught in a car's headlights. I had a quick flash of memory that told me Chloe was definitely the type to throw a tantrum when she didn't get her own way, and her parents had faced them before.
With varying results.
"Look," I said, through clenched teeth as I sought to calm my anger. "I'm fine! The hospital let me go, they didn't call to say the tests showed anything. I don't even need rehab; I'm walking and talking and doing all my usual things just fine."
"You're doing great, love," Alan agreed. "We just worry and don't want you to push yourself too far."
"If I don't do something, I'll go nuts." I decided to play into it. "I've deferred starting Uni for a year! I can't just sit in my room and do nothing."
"Yes… but-"
"Dad!" The whine in my voice was an instinctive move, and I hated it. "The experience will be good for me."
"If it's experience you want, you can come work at the firm. I can have you working in the mail room."
"Oh yah, and have everyone know I'm only there because you're my dad," I scoffed.
It wasn't working, I could see it in their faces. They were too worried, so I did the only thing I could do. I brought out the big guns.
"I almost died."
They winced, I felt a tinge of guilt for the emotional blow, but also an irrational pleasure. I'd scored a hit. They were weak. I went in for the kill.
"I survived, though. I came through and now, I have another chance. That's not something that should be wasted. If I can help others, and gain experience in the real world on my own two feet, then that's good, right?"
Ultimately, they couldn't really argue against it.
There was a little more back and forth, negotiating the surrender, and once that was finalised, agreement was made.
Then they asked what volunteering I'd be doing.
"In a community centre," I said, smiling glibly as I finished the chocolate and rose from the seat, ready to beat a hasty retreat before they could pry further. "Helping the community."
"How're you getting there?" Alan asked.
"Bus?" I shrugged. Hadn't really considered that.
"Your car is still in the garage," Nicole said. "Or are you not feeling up to it?"
Chloe had a car.
Shit, that was awesome news.
"No, yeah, I'll take the car."
Kevin could suck it. I didn't need him at all.
Prick.
I was almost out the door when Nicole called out, "Why didn't Kevin want you to do this?"
Because it was in Harehills and he thinks I'm having a mental breakdown and seeing demons.
Not that I could tell them that.
"He thinks it's too early and I should be resting," I lied.
"That Kevin's a good, lad," Alan said, nodding. "He cares about you."
Tough luck for him then, because I was mobile and didn't need him anymore.
Even if he was comforting to have around and seemed like a nice guy that I kind of liked.
I stamped down on that thought and beat a hasty retreat to my bedroom.
There I searched through Chloe's wardrobe and drawers searching for an outfit that would be suitable. Nothing slutty. That ruled out seventy percent of her wardrobe. Nothing too tight-another fifteen gone.
I would have killed for a pair of sweats and a hoody, but the only hoody she had was far too big and probably belonged to her idiot boyfriend.
There was no chance I would wear that.
So, I settled on a dress.
The idea of which distressed me. A skirt, I could mentally ignore and pretend it was a kilt at worst. But a dress… there was no pretending it was anything other than a very girly item of clothing.
Which was an utterly stupid thing to think considering I was already wearing bra and knickers. Didn't get much more girly than that.
"Get it together, you idiot," I muttered to myself as I held the dress up against me and looked at my reflection in the mirror.
It was fine.
A high neckline and skirts that ended at the knee. Dark grey, almost black and modest enough not to excite any guys who might eye me like a piece of meat. I knew what the guys in Harehills were like. Heck, I'd been one of them.
Best to avoid getting their interest.
Black tights and some slip-on shoes with a low heel. I wouldn't look out of place, or like anything other than a young woman seeking to do some good work.
At least that's what I hoped.
Once my clothes were laid out and ready for the morning, another Chloe remnant I was sure as I'd never done that before in my life, I settled into bed and browsed the forums I'd found my new witchy friend on.
There was a message waiting for me from her with an attached PDF full of demon lore. I replied with a thank you and downloaded it before reading. It was interesting, but I couldn't quite seem to remain focused on it. I kept checking my phone, brow furrowing when I saw the lack of messages.
Would it have killed him to send an apology text?
I sure as hell wasn't going to. I was in the right.
Which was a thought that gave me cold comfort as I settled down to sleep, grumpy and cold and feeling strangely alone.
I really needed back into my own body.
After a poor nights sleep I rose and prepared myself for the day.
Still no message.
Fair enough. Screw him.
Once dressed, I walked – carefully on the low heel – downstairs and grabbed a glass of juice before acknowledging the parents and heading to the garage with the set of keys Alan gave me.
The garage door rolled up with a satisfying mechanical whir. For a moment, I felt something like anticipation. That old, familiar rush of seeing a set of wheels waiting for me. That urge to drive fast as the adrenaline surged through my veins.
Then the light spilled in, and my excitement died a slow, painful death.
It wasn't a car. It was a fashion statement on wheels. A pastel-blue Mini Cooper with a white roof and tiny chrome mirrors that looked like they belonged on a dollhouse. A floral air freshener dangled from the mirror, and the number plate frame had glitter.
Glitter.
I just stood there, staring.
Of course this was her car. Small, cure, bubbly. Not a trace of horsepower or dignity anywhere. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "You've got to be kidding me."
Despite my misgivings, the engine purred, and a little bit of my excitement returned as I pulled out of the driveway and onto the main road.
It was daylight and the car wasn't stolen, so no need to race recklessly through the streets like I usually did, but still, if I was a little faster than I should have been, I wasn't complaining.
By the time I reached Harehills I was almost enjoying myself. I pulled into the community centre parking, singing along to some 90's rock song that was playing too loud through the radio.
As I climbed out of the car, I looked around.
There was a definite air of despair hanging over the area. People walked with their heads bowed, and no one really talked to one another, other than to grunt or snap, telling someone to get out of the way.
The sky was grey, dark clouds promising more rain, and there was a bite to the air promising a cold day and likely colder night. The leaves of the few trees had all fallen, sitting damp and dark brown on the muddy ground.
Lovely.
Inside, it was warm at least, and I was met at the door by an older man. He wore a beige cardigan and trousers. Brown shows scuffed and worn, and a paisley patterned shirt. What hair he had, was faded, not quite grey but well on the way, and his eyes were watery.
I knew him, of course, or rather had known him when I was Danny.
All the kids did.
To the older folks, he was Father Peter. To the kids, he was just Peter or Mr Mason. While his parish was St. Marks, he spent a good portion of his time at the adjoining community centre where he ran groups and organised activities with the express aim of helping keep the kids out of trouble.
I was a shining example of how often he failed at that, but he tried.
And, as far as I knew, he'd never once tried to touch any of the kids which made him alright in my book.
"Father Mason," I said, smiling brightly. I resisted the urge to touch my lips, the lipstick felt strange. I'd kept the makeup light, following YouTube tutorials and I wasn't confident about it at all. "Really nice to meet you."
"Chloe, right?"
"Yes." I kept my smile in place. "I called yesterday."
He nodded absently, his attention wavering as a woman older than the both of us together tried to pick up a boxy of pamphlets from the counter.
"No, Susan. You leave those, dear. I'll take them back in a minute."
The old woman, Susan, mumbled something about tea and headed into a back room as Peter smiled apologetically.
"Sorry, about that. You were saying?"
"I called. Yesterday." He stared blankly at me. "Offering to help out."
"Oh… ah… yes. I do recall. Sorry." He rubbed a hand over his bald head, and I was fast gaining the impression that he was often confused. "You wanted to help. A donation is always welcome. Since the council cut our funding-"
"No. Sorry." I clenched my jaw and reminded myself this was necessary. "I wanted to volunteer my time. Help you out here."
"Is that so? Oh."
He glanced around, taking in the shelves full of books rescued from the library when it closed. The faded posters on the wall with their positive messages and warnings about drugs and STD's. The row of computers that had been new at the turn of the century and still used dial-up.
It was run down, forgotten and very close to being abandoned.
Like Harehills itself, I thought.
"Why?" he asked, looking me up and down.
"It will look good on my CV," I quipped, and my smile faded when his failed to materialize. Truth then. "I was recently in the hospital. I almost didn't make it and when I got out, I realised I wanted to give something back. To help others before they found themselves in the same situation."
Vague enough that he could read into that what he chose, but honest enough to hopefully get him to give me a chance.
The door opened behind us and a couple of the local kids came in. Each of them carried a small stack of books and headed straight for the counter. Peter made a decision.
"Come on then," he said. "Let me show you how to check these books back in and then you can stack them on the shelves."
"Happy to," I lied.
I pulled off my coat and folded it over my arm as I followed him and managed a quick glance at my phone, frowning as the lack of notifications.
Still no messages.