Hideaway life - Part 3

The journey to the breathing room was in complete silence thanks to Pages’ icy stare. Hardy just didn’t get it; why does she insist on being as miserable as a polar bear in a desert when that could be saved until later. What’s the point of being glum now if you’re going to have to feel that way soon anyway? Be happy now and save the depression for when it’s needed, otherwise you’ll end up like Pages, the irritable cow. Another thing Hardy couldn’t understand was how Cocoa and the annoyed women marching beside him could share so many physical similarities but have nothing in common. He would’ve deemed it impossible if they hadn’t been two different species.

“We should hurry up,” she said curtly and started to jog so Hardy matched her speed until they reached their destination.

 

It was sweltering in the breathing room, the crystals were doing their job, perhaps a bit too well, and as Hardy joined Pages in cooling them down, his body slowly rose in temperature and beads of sweat squeezed through his skin �" but it didn’t help much. The awkwardness of their relationship always seemed to disappear as soon as they entered this space; Pages was too concentrated on the glowing red crystals to give him the evils and he was too out of breath to talk and wind her up. The most annoying thing about this job was that, even though the temperature should theoretically lower, because of the work, the strength it took to rip two crystals apart and the limited time they had to do the job... Well, let’s just say; Hardy was sweating like a pig in a sauna after only a minute.

 

Pages stood up suddenly and, with a groan, arched her back causing a series of loud clicks up and down her spine, making Hardy cringe. She then proceeded to remove the dirty old cream jumper, which was obviously increasing her heat, and chucked it over her shoulder carelessly, but she still felt stifled in the vest top underneath.

 

Another minute passed in silence before Pages commanded, “Come over here and help take this big one.”

 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Hardy said and, striking some ridiculous poses, continued, “Of course I’ll help you fair maiden, for I, Hardy Hero the third, am a gracious and good looking and...”

 

“Shut up and help if you want to live,” Pages growled as she struggled to lift a pair of particularly giant crystals.

 

“Come on, that didn’t even make you crack a smile?” Hardy whined.

 

“No, but I could crack this over your head instead,” She said, a little too hopefully for comfort.

 

Hardy sighed and came over, trying to wipe the stickiness off his face with his sleeve, “We’ve known each other for four years-”

 

“Five.”

 

“What?”

 

Rolling her eyes, Pages took one of the warm red stones in an iron grip while Hardy took the other, “We’ve known each other for five years, Hardy. Five years of insufferable you,” she muttered as she huffed and puffed.

 

“Whatever,” Hardy went on, “Five years and never once have you ever smiled at my jokes.”

 

“Guess you’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“That’s just cold,” Hardy said, not wanting to admit how much that comment actually hurt.

 

At long last the crystals were separated, sending their dividers soaring away from one another only to come crashing back down to the tough earth floor. Hardy’s vision went fuzzy as a great force hit his head. In his dazed state he figured the thing that hit him must have been pretty hard because it hurt a lot. Yep, that was about all he could figure out. His head felt disconnected from his body and it throbbed most terribly, like an angry Skitchmolth was bouncing around in his skull and believe me; that’s not something you want. The most frustrating part was; he couldn’t quite fathom whether this was a dream or a reality.

 

“Hardy?” Pages’ distant voice was sprinkled with concern.

 

Definitely a dream; no way would Pages ever be concerned for him.

 

“Hardy, wake up you brainless lump! I swear, if you have damaged my pipes then Snatchers and Grabbers are the least of your worries.”

 

That sounded more realistic.

 

“Seriously, WAKE UP!” This was especially loud in Hardy’s ear and he blinked hard a couple of times before:

 

“Owwie.”

 

“Get over it,” said Pages as she leaned over to inspect the contraption.

 

Slowly, as his vision came more into focus, Hardy sat up, swaying slightly as he did, Pages was on her hands and knees beside him peering at thingamabobs and whatsits that meant nothing to anybody else. Well, maybe Mitt knew a thing or two, but certainly not as much as the woman crouching in front of him. Just waiting for reality to come back completely something caught his eye. Something shiny. Something around Pages’ neck that he’d never seen before. It was a necklace. A long thin silvery chain, created with intricate plaits and fine strips of shimmering metal weaving in and out of themselves and each other. The charm, hanging in the centre of her chest, was a perfect sphere held in place by the same swirling silver as the chain, deep orange in colour with lines of red encircling it, like a nerve system.

 

“That’s nice,” he said, then realised what Pages must have thought he was looking at, as he saw the large hand striving to cuff him round the face. Ducking down, he protected his wound with his hands and cried out with all his might, “I meant your necklace! Not your CLEAVAGE!”

 

He heard her take a step and relaxed slightly, “The necklace,” she said, uncharacteristically shaky, “is none of you business.”

 

There was just no winning with this girl.

 

Hardy groaned as he stood up, “I think I should go to the Careward.”

 

He received a snort from Pages, “No, you’ll survive, you can walk.”

 

“Thanks...”