Hornet's Nest Ch. 04

I laid on my back to catch my breath after making it over a seven foot chain link fence in one go. I'd performed an accidental flip over the top, which I'm sure looked impressive, but completely ruined my momentum when I landed and nearly fucked up my knee. We always did it in the dark. Probably to try and avoid people, and avoid being caught trespassing, and whatever other illegal things we did. "You taught yourself all this?"

She grinned excitedly again. "Yes."

"Wasn't there, like, someone to show you?"

"I watched other people doing it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"You're fucking mad."

"I know."

I was enjoying it, though. When we went out for these nighttime 'runs' it was just me and her, playing around in a concrete jungle. We only stayed in when it rained. People thought we were complete weirdos, and lots suspcted we were up to something else more shady, but I didn't even care. They could think what they wanted. Everybody on campus knew Violet was some 'drug dealer'. It didn't bother me, because I knew she wasn't.

Maybe I just found it so amusing that people thought I might be mixed up in something. Me? Gangs? Drugs? Come on.

She was spending so much time around my flat, the other flatmates were having to get used to her as some ninth member. I wondered if the landlord was going to complain. I did spend some nights in her room in the campus halls, too, but the halls had a very different atmosphere. Hard to describe. Louder and rowdier. People just seemed to party in and get drunk a lot. Everything felt a lot less personal. Probably why Vi slipped in and out so much and nobody thought anything of it.

She said she liked the flat where Wes and I stayed. She liked my room, because it was bigger. She liked my bed, because it was comfier. And she thought Myles and Claire's arguments were hilarious.

Sometimes we were completely silent while sitting in my room, working on our laptops. She always sat on my bed while I sat at my desk. I offered to get her a chair so she could join me, but she declined. She constantly fidgeted and sat weird while on her laptop - cross-legged, on her stomach, on her side, on her back, legs up the wall with the laptop on her chest.

I'd look around, see her in another of her strange and contorted positions, and burst into laughter. She'd scowl at me, then grin.

"You know," Vi said, sitting more normal one time, using a pillow against the wall with the laptop in her lap as intended. "Someone said something to me once..."

"... Beautifully vague."

"I'm not finished."

I chuckled and looked over my shoulder. "Yeah, and?"

"He said, that you should be rich enough where nobody can tell you what to do. He said that money is the only way to real freedom in the world today."

I didn't respond, and she looked up at me from her screen. Her expression was blank.

"Is that what it's like?" she asked. "Is that what it's like to be rich? Do you feel like you have complete freedom? I mean, what can stop you?"

I stared at the floor with my pause. I wasn't really sure how to answer, or what I wanted to say. "Vi," I finally replied. "I don't know."

"Why?"

"I'm not rich, Vi. My parents are rich. I'm not."

Her head did that little quizzical tilt.

"I don't have something to my name. I'm not a rich person. You know what I'm living off? Generous pocket money. And they don't even have to be doing that."

"I don't get it," she said. "Why don't they spend money on you? I don't understand why they didn't buy you a car. They could get you all these things and make your life perfect."

"They want me to understand what money is."

She looked back down at her screen, but I stayed leaning my arm on the back of my chair, knowing she was thinking and processing it.

"They want you to understand how the world works," she finally said.

"Yeah."

"I'm still trying to figure out how everything works, too."

I smiled, her gaze moved up to meet mine.

"Have you figured it out?" she asked. "Do you understand?"

"Some things."

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"How do people get rich?"

"By doing something to get there? It doesn't just happen. Sometimes it's stupid things, but people always do something. You give people what they want, and they'll pay you for it. And if you're really smart, you give them what they need."

She was pattering away on her keyboard. I frowned.

"Is this going into your social science paper?"

"Sort of. I mean, I'm rewording it so it'll at least sound like something I came up with."

I chuckled, shook my head, and turned back to my own laptop, but she wasn't finished yet.

"It's not always true," she said. "Some people are rich without doing anything. Like you."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Inheritance."

"What's your family?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are they? Rich because their families were rich, or rich because they did something for it?"

"Are you fucking writing your paper about me?"

"No, I'm just trying to understand it."

I went over to the bed, curious to see what she was writing, and she willingly turned the laptop towards me. I turned the question over in my head.

"They're a bit of both," I said. "They started out with quite a bit of money, but they turned it into shit tons of money."

"Takes money to get money, I've heard of that. But it's still bullshit. It's like jobs all saying you need experience, but nothing ever taking you on, for you to get that experience in the first place. Where are you supposed to start?"

I grinned and shrugged. "I don't know, Vi. Pure strength of character. Cleverly pitching yourself. Being smart. Being lucky."

"That sounds like business jargon."

"But there's truth in it."

I returned to my desk. She was silent for a while before suddenly piping up. "I've got it. I've fucking got it."

"What?"

"It's breaking the mold. Do something new. Re-invent the wheel."

"People say you're not supposed to re-invent the wheel."

"And that's why we don't have motherfuckin' hover-cars yet."

I guffawed, just like my dad. Oh God. She had a huge grin on her face.

"I get it," she said. "I finally do. I can write this paper now. You take something familiar, because it's not new, it's not scary to people. But you make it better. Your own spin, or genuinely improve it. That's the easy way to getting rich." She folded the laptop closed and sprung to her feet, bouncing off the bed, grabbing me around the shoulders and kissing my cheek. "Thank you! I'm gonna go talk to Wes about this, I'll be right back."

"Vi," I said as she reached the door.

"What?"

"There's an easier way to getting rich."

"Yeah?"

"You marry someone rich."

Her eyes narrowed at me, and she touched a finger to her lips. Shh. I chuckled again as she slipped out and knocked on Wesley's door opposite.

*

I don't know how Christmas came around so fast. We were through November, and getting into December. There was a bit of snow - an inch at best, which had melted away before lunchtime. Adrian made a big deal over it nontheless.

"We're gonna have a white Christmas!"

"Mate," Wesley disagreed. "Don't get your knickers in a twist." Then his arm slung around my neck and he gave me one of his looks. "When are we going home, Dave?"

"I haven't even thought about it yet."

"Well get thinking. And are we taking Vi?"

"... I don't know."

"You've been fucking like rabbits and you're completely obsessed with her. Are you gonna tell them, or am I gonna eventually slip up and mention it?"

"Tyler's gonna rip the shit out of me."

"Yeah, but whatever. I think Vi can handle Tyler, I don't know what you're worrying about."

More days went by with me fussing over it in my head, even if I didn't make it obvious on the outside. Who should I ask first? Violet, if she wants to come home for Christmas? Or Mum, if it's even okay if I bring someone home first?

Damn, I made life difficult for myself. Procrastination pushed me to the edge and forced me to act.

Two days before Wesley and I were due home on the train, I called up Mum.

"Hello, David. Everything good?"

"Mum, this is gonna sound crazy and out of nowhere."

"All right."

"I have a girlfriend and she's pretty amazing and can she come home for Christmas?"

She cackled into my ear. "Oh my goodness!"

There was just that long moment of her laughing and me not knowing what to say.

"Mum, I've been seeing her since October or something, maybe even September, I don't know."

"Why on earth haven't you said anything sooner?"

"Because you're all going to take the piss."

"No we won't."

"Please don't make a big deal."

"We won't, David. Goodness me."

"So is it okay?"

"Of course! I don't see why not."

I hung up grinning, then quickly called Violet. "Vi, are you up for a spontaneous change of plans?"

"Err?" she replied.

"Do you want to come home with me for Christmas?"

She actually squeaked. Fuck, I should have asked her in person. We'd already decided that being apart for a week or more was going to suck.

"Seriously? Can I?"

"Yes."

"Okay, that's awesome. I still want to see my parents at New Year though, okay?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay, nice, I gotta call my mum."

She hung up without saying bye, in her usual fashion. She almost didn't finish the word 'mum'.

*

It all went well at first, until we stopped at another station for our cross-over train... and it never came. Ten minutes of delay turned into forty-five, then it was cancelled. Stranded in this town we didn't know, in the dark, in the cold, the three of us changing from bored, to restless, to annoyed, to apathetic.

"Sweet baby Jesus," Wesley said, staring up at the screen with the travel information. Another train was supposed to be on the way, but now that had been delayed, too.

We'd waited there at least three hours by then. Other people had been and left, giving up in the time we'd adamantly stayed, looking for other forms of transport. It was a small platform with nowhere that was particularly indoors, nowhere particularly sheltered. We sat on our suitcases in a corner, and Violet suggested everybody donating their least favourite clothes to start a fire.

"Just need some marshmellows," Wesley agreed, plonking himself back onto his suitcase. Violet sat with her knees hugged to her chest, face mostly hidden by her scarf like a balaclava. I needed to get up and pace around, trying to use my feet before I lost my toes to frostbite.

There was finally some news on my phone that could explain what the problem was all about. I scrolled through the screen with frozen fingers. "Check this out," I said, as I covered the length of the platform back to them. "Some girl threw herself on the track."

"So it was a suicide?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah."

"Great. Fucking great. What a time to do it. Bet she's ruined Christmas for her whole family."

I tutted at him, but he was so cold and bored he was beyond any sort of caring.

"Bet she was gonna get drafted," Violet said.

"Probably," Wesley replied. "Man, if we'd taken an earlier train, we might've been the ones who hit her."

"You'd have liked that?" I asked.

"Fuck no. Did the train derail? Does it say anything about that?"

I flicked through the screen. "Doubt it."

A voice came on overhead, telling us that the train we needed was going to arrive in fifteen minutes. Wesley hooted and gave a muffled clap of his gloved hands. Shortly after, my phone vibrated with an incoming call.

"Where the fuck are you?" Dad's voice growled into my ear.

"Trains are royally fucked up," I replied. "Big delays. Suicide on the tracks."

He sighed one of those long, heartfelt, grizzly sighs. "You know, I could have driven down there, picked you up, and been back home by now."

"I know, but don't worry about it, train's only ten minutes. But we're not going to get there 'til after twelve. There won't be any buses going."

"Don't worry, someone will be there to pick you up. Text me when you're twenty minutes off."

I sat back with Violet and Wesley, and we all stared at the information screen, watching every minute tick down.

"What are your parents' names?" Violet asked.

"You call them Mumma and Pappa," Wesley replied.

"No, seriously, I need to know what to call them."

"Mumma and Pappa."

"Wes."

I chuckled. "Dad is Zack, Mum is Amelia. But you can call her Lia."

The conversation continued as the train finally pulled in, and we clambered into the heated interior. Every carriage seemed empty and we went straight for a table in first class, dragging suitcases behind us. We were discussing Hanna. I had already explained the bone disease to Vi, but I went over it again.

"You just have to be super careful, super gentle with her. If she trips over and lands on an arm she might break that arm, you just never know."

"I get it," Vi said. "I won't hurt her. Don't worry."

"She's also, erm, a bit autistic."

"What does that mean? 'A bit'?"

I looked at Wesley, knowing he could probably explain better than me.

"Basically, she'll take everything you say very literally," he said. "So just be careful what you say. That's all you need to know."

"Okay. And your uncles are gay?"

"Tyler will debate over that," Wesley replied.

"Why?"

I grinned at our reflections in the window. "He's bi."

"But they're married?"

"Yeah."

"Were you there? What was it like? Just like a normal wedding, but with two guys?"

Such a barrage of questions. I couldn't really tell if Violet was nervous, or being her typical, overly curious self.

"I guess it was normal," I replied. "Darren wore a white suit and Tyler wore a black one. And they both got stupidly drunk at the party afterwards." She looked at me like I was supposed to say more, but I shrugged. "I was only eight. I don't remember much else. Loud, rowdy adults."

We talked about our family pretty much the whole way. I kept an eye on the time and sent a text to Dad. We picked up our luggage and got off the train into a very empty station, making our way through it for the carpark.

Dad's car was easy to spot. Back when there'd been the issues with protesters, he'd traded in a normal Audi saloon for a big black SUV, complete with tinted windows, because he thought it made him more 'intimidating'. Four years later, Tyler was still taking the piss out of him for it.

The driver's door sounded open and shut as we approached, and Dad appeared around the bonnet.

"Aww," Wesley teased. "No sports car?"

"You think I'm gonna let Tyler meet David's girlfriend before me?"

I released Violet's hand as Dad held out his for a shake. It was only brief, then he was moving around to the boot to load up our suitcases. I couldn't really tell if she was intimidated by him, like most people are on first meeting. She was sizing him up, that much I could see, but she didn't have much of a reaction.

It was just as well Dad turned up, and not Tyler. There was no way the three of us, plus our luggage, were fitting into one of his sports cars. Wesley got into the front while Violet and I got into the back. Dad turned the key in the ignition and made brief eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, twitching an eyebrow.

Yeah, okay Dad. What was that eyebrow twitch supposed to mean?

Wesley talked about why the trains were delayed the whole drive, while Vi and I stayed mostly silent. She cared about looking outside, studying everything we drove past, more than anything.

She looked left when we turned left, looked right when we turned right. Sometimes she peered over Dad's seat to look out the front. When she finally made eye contact with me, she grinned. Then we pulled up to the house and that took her full attention again.

We had a pretty big house. Not huge, but enough. Fully detached. Tall hedges at the front that gave some privacy, and a long driveway splitting a large front garden in half. The back garden was a bit bigger still. There was all this ivy climbing up the front left of the house - pretty aesthetic.

Violet was still taking everything in as we got out, retrieved our luggage, and headed for the front door.

Houses all have their own smell. And my house smelt like home. All the familiar sensations of stepping inside flooded me, clashing with the fact that Vi was there, too. It was almost overwhelming, seeing her there, in that environment. She was completely inside the bubble of my life now.

I'd never brought a girl home before.

Her head was turning, studying everything. She must have been in even more of a sensory overdrive than I was.

I held out a hand, she gave me a quizzical look. "Jacket," I said.

"Oh." She slipped it off over her shoulders and I hung it up while the sounds of Wesley talking with Mum came from the lounge. Vi went in ahead of me.

It was nearly 1am, so I guessed this 'meet and greet' wouldn't go on for too long. Mum was as jovial as ever, giving Violet a hug and gushing away while Wes went to the kitchen to get some drinks. Dad sat himself on the sofa, quietly. He was studying Violet. Carefully. Intensely.

I wished he wouldn't. The defensive feeling steadily grew. My dad has this... thing, where he's like a mind-reader. If, for some reason, he was going to decide he didn't like Violet, I didn't know what I was going to do.

What was he judging? Her clothes? The way she carried herself?

I purposely moved in the way of his vision, then took her hand and led her over to the sofa, sitting her next to him. Judge her now, Dad. Ten centimetres away. Try without making it obvious. You prick.

There was some light chatter about our physics class, and how we had met. Then we were interrupted by the door slowly coming open.

Hanna stood there in her pyjamas, peering in, staring at Violet. Mum beckoned her to come closer, but she didn't. When Violet sat forwards she almost backed up, like a little cat being startled.

"Hanna," I said. "This is Violet, my girlfriend."

She briefly looked at me, but then back to Violet.

"Come in and say hello," Mum continued. "Don't be rude, dear."

Hanna obliged and shuffled into the room. She came close enough that she almost touched Vi's knees, blinked, then her arm jutted out for a handshake. I watched Violet slowly, gently, slip her palm into Hanna's to return it. I think I glowed inside.

"Hi. I'm Hanna."

"You look a lot like David."

Hanna beamed, but stepped away to grab Wesley's hand while he stood chugging his glass of Coke. "Wes is adopted," she said. "That's why he looks different."

Wesley nearly spat out his mouthful, Dad erupted with wheezing mirth, Mum looked up at the ceiling with a grin. Violet looked at me, then back to Hanna. Then again at me, at a loss of what to say.

"Err..."

Wesley cleared his throat. "She knows, Hanna."

"Okay, good!" She came back over, one hand on Violet's knee, one on mine, looking between us with some sort of dawning excitement. Before deciding she better climb onto Dad's lap for a bit of safety. You know, just in case Violet bites.

"So you're in class together too?" Mum asked.

"Yeah, social science," Wesley replied.

So there was a bit more chatter about that. Dad had finally stopped his thing, but now Hanna was the one staring far too intently. Couldn't win with this family. Violet didn't seem too bothered by it all, in fact she impressed me with how calm she was.

"Well," Mum said. "I'm expecting you're tired. Goodness, I'm tired. And you shouldn't be up at all."

"But Mum," Hanna protested. Dad was already lifting her and she peeked over his shoulder with a sheepish grin as he carried her out.

I didn't pick up and carry Violet, but I did tug her to her feet, and pulled her into the hallway. I felt I had to keep her attention, or she'd run off into some room and I'd find her nose in every drawer in the house. She was so alert, she was itching for it.