mouth, and walked to the patio doors at the back of the room.
Michael turned back to George. “But all you’ve done is cause more suffering.”
“And I will spend the rest of my life paying you back for it. I can never make it up to you, but I’ll make sure I look after you—even if you hate me forever.”
The click of the back door cut through their conversation, and they both watched Lola walk out into the back garden.
Flicking his head in her direction, George said, “Where’s she going?”
“Cigarette.”
“She shouldn’t be smoking.”
“You can’t tell her what to do, Mister.”
“Call me George. My dad’s Mister.”
“I’d rather call you Mister. I don’t trust you yet. I’m only here because I don’t have any other choice.”
With slumped shoulders, George nodded and sighed. “Okay. I understand.”
Combat
Time seemed to stop as Michael sat alone with George. He said nothing to the man, and George said nothing in return. The tense form of Lola had her back to them as she smoked a cigarette outside, her arms folded in front of her as if to ward off the cold.
The best thing would be for him to get up and join her. It was just a matter of how he went about doing that. The silence had become so complete that it seemed impossible to penetrate.
The unformed words stuck in his throat and he had no idea what he should say. When he stretched up to the ceiling, he noticed that George watched him with a tight-lipped smile. If he didn’t do it now, he’d never do it, and the evening would be spent in awkward silence. Michael stood up, pointed at the garden, and cleared his throat. “I’m, um… I’m… I’m just…”
George nodded. “It’s okay, mate.”
Thank god he spared him the awkwardness of coming up with a valid reason to join her. Michael walked away, the desire to run twitching through him. When he got to the patio door and pulled it wide, the cold outside air rushed in.
At first, Lola didn’t look at him. Instead, she smoked her cigarette and directed a hard frown at the back wall of the garden.
Michael laughed to break the silence. “Some garden, eh? There’s no grass or plants out here.”
The sparks of Lola’s cigarette glowed when she flicked it away and it hit the ground. She then removed another one from the packet and lit it up.
After several drags, she finally spoke. “I don’t trust him. I think we made a mistake coming here.”
“But you were the one who said we should trust him. You pushed for us to come here.”
A cloud of smoke joined the misted breath coming from Lola’s mouth. “And I thought we should, but I just don’t know if I can.”
Michael rubbed his arms to keep himself warm. “I feel uncomfortable around him, but he seems genuine. I don’t think he wants to screw us over. I believe he’s sorry for what happened with my dad.”
The start of a reply was forming on Lola’s lips until she looked past Michael and froze.
The sliding patio door sounded out a few seconds later, and Michael spun around to see George step outside.
After a moment’s silence, George said, “You shouldn’t smoke, you know, Lola.”
Lola, wound even tighter, ground her jaw and snarled, “I’ll do what the fuck I like.”
A flutter ran through Michael’s heart. That was no way to talk to George. If she’d seen his anger, she’d be keeping her mouth shut.
But George didn’t rise to it. Instead, he relaxed and raised a half smile. It looked genuine. “You’re right. You will do what the fuck you like; it’s your body, after all. I’m just saying smoking’s not good for you.”
“Duh.”
A roll of his eyes and George spoke to himself beneath his breath. “So this is what it’s like living with teenagers…”
Neither Michael nor Lola responded. Michael hadn’t planned to, but he expected Lola to retaliate.
When George clapped his hands together, the sharp crack echoed around the enclosed garden area. “Now, as you know, this world’s fucking horrible… so I think you guys need to learn how to fight.”
Lola continued to stare at George. “We know how to fight, thanks. How do you think we’ve survived as long as we have?”
The pair held eye contact before George turned to Michael. “Do you know how to fight, boy?”
Michael shook his head. When he looked at Lola, he saw her glaring at him. But he didn’t know how to fight; he couldn’t lie about it.
Before George could speak again,