Part ThirteenMature

The holidays are over, and the first person I talk to is Anna. She brings me an Easter egg, knowing I didn't get one. 

"Honestly, Lola," she says. "I swear you're being deprived of childhood."

"Don't be stupid," I split the egg, giving half back to her. "I'm a child, aren't I?"

"You don't act like one," she says. "You've got that little crease between your eyebrows. What's up?"

"The sky," I sigh. She rolls her eyes. "I'm worried about Seb. You haven't left your hair alone sine we sat down. What's up?"

"The sky," she mimics. "And my boyfriend if he carries on the way he is doing."

I frown. "What, you mean he's like... high?"

"Most of the time," she nods. "It's really annoying. What's on with Seb?"

"I don't know."

Anna shakes her head at me. "You know you? You're always worrying about him and you never know what's wrong with him."

"Only because he won't tell me."

"Well, what if there's nothing wrong with him?"

"He doesn't say that. He says it doesn't matter."

She huffs. "I wish I could hear him saying this. Y'know, my uncle had the same thing with talking. Called it selective mutism. It's a recognised medical disorder."

"No," I get up and put the chocolate wrapper in the bin. "Seb doesn't have selective mutism, he just doesn't like to talk."

"He talks to you!"

"I'm his sister!"

"That's what selective mutism is, you dufus!"

"But he hasn't got selective mutism, cretin!"

She grins and I grin back.

The End

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