[6] Interloper

“Andrew, sweetheart, set the table please. Maddy, can you go find your sister? I don’t know where she’s disappeared to…”

With a huff, Madison Muller snapped her phone shut and stalked out of the kitchen in search of her dorky little sister. She located the dork in question on the stairs, struggling with an overstuffed duffel bag.

“The hell, short stuff? You got a body in that thing or what?”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“Fuck off. I’m staying at Luzi’s, we have a big project.”

Madison eyed the bag skeptically.

“I know you’re a chronic over-packer, but that’s a bit mental even for you. How long can a project take?” She eyed Emma closely, reading the looks that flitted over her face; fear, worry, and a strange excitement. She recognized the way her sister was holding things in, trying to hide the turmoil in her head.

“It’s… it’s a big project,” the blond replied with a slight shrug, idly playing with her fingers.

The elder sister raised an eyebrow, still studying the younger girl. “You sure about that?”

Emma’s face said everything she needed to know.

“Nevermind, don’t answer that. You’re full of crap, there’s no project.”

Emma found herself being yanked upstairs; the bag fell from her hand and tumbled downwards, landing with a thud at the bottom.

“Emma? Madison? Is everything okay?” their mother’s voice came up the stairs after them.

“Yeah mom, everything’s fine!” Madison yelled back before pulling the younger girl into her bedroom and shutting the door.

“What’s going on, freak?”

“Nothing is going on!” Emma replied with an affronted glare.

“But you just said you’re going to Luzi’s.”

“Augh! Yes!” she said into her palms, frustration lacing her voice. “But nothing else is going on.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine. Can I go now?” Emma made a move towards the exit, but Madison got there first and leaned back against the door.

“Where are you going, Em?” she asked, fixing the younger girl with a rare concerned-big-sister look. “And don’t bullshit me, I can tell.”

Emma sighed, resigned. “I’m going… away. For a little while. With a friend.”

“Luzi? Or by ‘friend’ do you mean this mythical Jenny you never shut up about?”

“Maddy… ugh, yes, I mean Jenny. Happy now?”

“No. So is this some kind of romantic holiday, or…?” She studied Emma’s face for a reaction. “No… you’re just leaving.”

Her expression was torn between concern and amusement. “You’re running away, aren’t you?”

“No!”

Maddy rolled her eyes. “Emma, stop lying. I can tell you’re freaked.” Emma was surprised at the worry she heard in her sister’s voice. “Something must be seriously wrong to make goody two-shoes Emma want to blow this popsicle joint…”

She nodded slowly. Madison saw tears in her eyes.

“It’s okay. You can tell me. God knows, whatever you two have done, I’ve done worse.”

“It’s not like that… it’s just…” Emma paused for a moment, took a breath, and let the story come spilling out.

[5] Flashback: Magic Tricks

it’s summer, and i am eleven. hotte has come over, and we’re eating gummy worms and trying the magic tricks in a book his mom gave him. he shows me one he’s been practising using a cup and a coin. i gasp when he makes the coin appear under the cup (even though he explained the trick to me earlier) and then laugh as he pretends to pull it out of my ear.

‘can i try?’

‘hold on, em, i wanna do another one.’

i don’t think to just find another coin.

‘hot-teeeee! i want to try them too!’

i make a grab for the coin and close my hand on his wrist. we grapple for a moment, more evenly matched than we will be later, after he grows tall and gangly and i… don’t.

he dives off the bed to escape, and I fall with him. as we land on the floor in a heap his fist connects solidly with my face. pain sears through my jaw and I taste blood. it’s silent for one long moment.

then i scream, and hotte starts shouting, and there’s blood dripping from my mouth so hotte helps me up and grabs a wad of tissue from my desk to press to my lip. he yells for my mom and then drags me down the stairs by my hand. he talks to me as mom looks at my split lip, rambling on about some magic trick, trying to keep me from panicking. it works.

later, i’m in the hospital. i can’t feel my face, and there’s a doctor sewing up the spot where my teeth went right through my lip. hotte’s next to me on the crinkly paper-covered bed, holding my hand. i don’t know if he’s let go of it at all.

on the way home, mom buys us milkshakes. we sit on the back porch to drink them. i sip mine carefully, trying not to poke my new stitches with the straw. hotte looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

‘i’m sorry, em.’ he sounds ashamed.

‘me too,’ the freezing hasn’t worn off yet, and it gives me a lisp. ‘i’m sorry i tried to take your stupid euro.’

he nods a bit, then smiles shyly.

‘i thought you were really brave at the hospital.’

i grin at him, even though it hurts.

[4] Packing

Emma stands in the centre of her small bedroom, bag in hand, and surveys the sum of her worldly possessions. Her eyes roam from desk to bookshelf, bedside table to closet, trying to mentally sort the contents of each into ‘need to bring’, ‘want to bring’, and ‘don’t bother’. It’s easier said than done; the sentimentalist in her wants to bring every well-thumbed book, cherished photograph, and memorized album.

Basics, Emma.

With a heavy sigh, the blond flops down on her bed. She kicks her boots off and flexes her toes, digging them into the soft, familiar carpet of her floor. Closing her eyes, she can picture every inch of the room around her, from the photograph of STAG framed proudly on her wall to the faint bloodstain near her bed from when Hotte accidentally punched her in the mouth years ago. She smiles faintly at the memory.

                                                                                                        

An later, she’s picked out the important stuff – functional clothes, an extra pair of trainers, a bag of toiletries, and a plain manila envelope labeled IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS – EMMA – as well as a small collection of books and other things of sentimental value. Compromises, compromises.

She flips on her stereo and sings softly along as she folds and packs everything into a worn overnight bag. It doesn’t take long. Finally, she goes to her mirror and pulls a selection of photographs from the frame. There’s one of STAG rehearsing, taken by Frau Vogel. Another of her and Hotte from a few years ago, and one of Luzi, Hotte, her, and Jenny at the strike, taken by Ben with Hotte’s pilfered phone. She stares at another picture for a moment – her family after a long canoe trip, everyone dirty and exhausted but grinning victoriously at the camera – before taking it as well. She slides the photos into her envelope and stows it carefully between two folded pairs of jeans.

With a last look around her room, she zips her bag, slings it with some difficulty over her shoulder, and leaves in the direction of downstairs. The door shuts with an all-too-final click behind her.

[3] The Best We Can Do

Jenny turned over, saw tears glistening on sex-flushed cheeks, and felt her heart begin to break.

“Hey… don’t cry…”

Emma sniffed; her ears were red. Jenny wiped a tear away gently. “They can’t just lock you up like that. You’ve done nothing wrong. Nichts.”

She looked down, avoiding eye contact, deciding how she should explain this. “Emma… I’ve pulled too much shit in the past,” she sat up and leaned against the headboard, fidgeting hands in her lap. “I lied so much to the people close to me, and… and I used their kindness. My parents will never trust me around drugs. No matter how much they love me.” She tentatively traced the blond’s jawline, stroked the soft skin of her shoulder. The hurt on her face made Jenny ache. “Es tut mir so leid, Emma.”

“But we have to do something!” There were tears in the blond’s voice as she wrapped her arms around Jenny and rested her head on her stomach. “Something, damn it…”

“We just have to hope that the people at the clinic realize I’m not a danger anymore.” Even as she said it, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Nobody believes the addict when the evidence speaks so loudly against her.

“And what if they never realize it?” Emma’s voice was laced with fear and helplessness. Jenny could say nothing to make the awful reality less painful, so she remained silent. She stroked Emma’s arm gently, tracing little connect-the-dot patterns with her freckles.

Emma startled her when she spoke again. “What if we just… run away.”

“Run away?”

“Yeah… it doesn’t matter where. As long as we’re together, right?”

Jenny’s heart swelled, but her mind whirled.

“That’s pretty romantic…”

They shifted again, laying back on the pillows side-by-side. Run away, Jenny thought, just Emma and I. Together. No rehab, and nothing to keep us apart. The thought of it made Jenny dizzy with longing. There’s no way. We wouldn’t make it. Would we? Do we have a choice? If we stay, we’re separated…

And if we go? A treacherously reasonable part of her said.

Think about that later. One hurdle at a time.

She turned over to face Emma.

“Okay, I’m in. We run away.” There was an edge of giddy excitement in her voice.

“Y-yeah. We run away.” Emma replied shakily.

Jenny felt suddenly lighter than air. “Ich liebe dich.”

“Heh, yeah, I hope so… otherwise running away with you is pretty stupid.” She was laughing slightly, bewildered and giddy and scared. Jenny smiled slightly at her.

“It’s pretty stupid anyways.” It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me.

“No… no, I think it’s the best we can do.” An edge of resolve came into the blond’s voice. Jenny had never felt more loved than she did at that moment.

They curled together, arms around each other, and the lazy rhythm of their breath lulled both into sleep.

[2] Appreciation

She pulled Emma to her and kissed her hard, muffling the blond’s soft cry as she came hard on Jenny’s fingers. With one hand down the blond’s trackpants, buried inside her, and the other tangled in short hair, Jenny figured it was better for everyone that Luzi didn’t feel the need to investigate strange noises coming from her bedroom. To be fair, she doubted Emma would notice at the moment – she doubted Emma would notice an earthquake at the moment – but the sentiment remained.

“Shh, babe, we’re not alone, remember?” She said against soft, parted lips.

“I know…” Emma replied in a breathless pant. She grinned sheepishly at the other girl. “Sorry.”

Jenny kissed her softly. “I like it when you’re loud, but I don’t think Luzi and her mom would appreciate it as much.”

Emma laughed softly, flipping the brunette onto her back. She leaned over her with a bold, sexy grin. “Speaking of appreciation,” the blond murmured, “it’s your turn.”

[1] At Luzi’s

“Then… gute nach Emma, and gute nacht Jenny.”

“Gute nacht, Luzi!” The two replied in tandem. Luzi gave them a look which said please don’t christen my bed and left the room. The door shut with a soft click.

Jenny grinned a mischevious, dimpled grin and threw the pillowcase over Emma’s head, pulling her forward with a playful growl. Emma retaliated with a battle cry of her own, and the two were soon consumed in all-out animal noise warfare which ended when Emma tackled the brunette to the bed with a “rrrar!” She landed on top of Jenny giggling and snuggled into her shoulder. Jenny, still laughing, titled her head to look down the blond’s body.

“Hmm… nice view!” She said cheekily, flashing her dimples as she flicked the blond’s rear to make her point obvious.

Emma made a noise of mock indignation, but didn’t raise her head. “You’re such a perv.”

“And you love it!” the brunette replied as she tangled her legs with her girlfriend’s.

“I love it when you’re not trying to seduce me in public,” she replied, thinking back to the other night in Chulo’s. Jenny whispering filthy things in her ear, kissing her neck hotly, breasts and hips pushed against the blond from behind… she had been surprised they’d made it to Jenny’s room with most of their clothes still on.

Jenny shot her a lascivious grin. “But I can’t help myself sometimes. You’re just so… yummy.”

“I could bite you from here, you know,” the blond said against Jenny’s collarbone. Un-phased, the other girl turned her attention back to the favourable sight in front of her.

“You should wear these more often…” she played with the elastic waistband around Emma’s hips, fingers threatening to slip beneath. “…or less often, as long as it means you’re not wearing anything else in their place. Of course, only when I’m around to see it,” she said, squeezing the ass in question.

Emma bit her.