I arrived home just during breakfast. I was furious at Flo as she had introduced herself as Dolores to Sunny. The problem was that she was having that fake face of the frog-lady. I mean the weather lady.

Sunny had brought me near home, she thanked him elegantly, and he gave her his visit card. He seems to be one of those social-media heroes.

“I organize parties in my villa from time to time; if you are interested, please join us. We are a group of some twenty regulars. You can find us on the chat platform; the link is there, and the date of the next party will be published soon. Cara is making the photos and maintains the site. You'll see, it is a bunch of interesting people!”

Oh fuck, I get once in a year an invitation to a party that sounds interesting, and I cannot go.

She did not appreciate my rumbling: "first, you complain that I get in his car, then you complain that you cannot go to the party."

Well, yes, she had a point.

She waved to him as he left and then went into the park to find a hidden place to change my face. She did her hocus-pocus behind what she called hiding mirrors and then walked back out of the park and entered the house through the main door. It does not make sense to hide and try to enter through the window, it is too late now, and for sure, they have been in my room.

“Dolores! Good morning!”

“Good morning Mrs Robertson! Mr Robertson! Hey girls!”

“Where have you been?”

An inquiring Mr Robertson is looking at me.

“I was outside jogging!”

“Aha, that's why I saw you getting out from a convertible 10 minutes ago?”

Uh, this was Clara. The problem is that she saw that other Dolores with the frog-lady's face. It was not me! Yeah, but that girl had my clothes. She did not even see my face; she saw only a silhouette. Yeah, but wearing my clothes. What do I do?

I hesitated one second. Good that I was in the lead now, not Flo; who knows what she would have answered? I decided to accept it was me.

“That was Sunny. He stopped for a chat and offered to drive me back home; I was too far away and would have been late for school.”

“Are you going to school today?”

“Yes, Mrs Robertson.”

“Hurry up then; you'll be late!”

That was Mr Robertson again. He must be today in his Mr Hyde form; he has regularly such bad days.

“Robert, let the girls make their timetable.”

Mrs Robertson had turned towards her man. He was watching the news very intensively and waved his hand.

“Oh, Linda, watch the news!”

How do I bring into conversation the subject of my driver's license? The atmosphere was tense; it was clear the girls were under stress. On any typical day, Clara and Lola would have hammered me until I would have said everything about Sunny. Now just a couple of caustic words, and that was all.

I went to the bathroom and hurried up. I hadn't slept all night and was feeling hammered whilst I should look fresh and happy? I took a short shower to re-activate myself.

When I was back in the kitchen, the girls had already left for school.

“You are late, Dolores!”

Mr Robertson commented with an absent face. He continued to watch the news. Mrs Roberston placed a plate with many small sandwiches in front of my nose. Scotch woodcock sandwiches! I love them! Mmmm! It reminded me of Cala's plate with sandwiches from in-game, but a smaller dish with only about fifteen small sandwiches tailored for Dolores. White bread covered with the yellow scrambled eggs, each about as big as a mouthful, decorated with sweet red pepper slices and some green parsley leafs spread around. Grey anchovies crowning them. A symphony of colours and taste!

My round eyes would instantly devour them with concentrated laser beams.

“Yum, yum! Oh, Mrs Robertson, thank you!”

She gave me a worried look:

“You do not look well, Dolores. Are you sure you want to go to school?”

“If she can go jogging, she can go to school too.”

Mr Robertson had delivered that sentence coldly whilst watching the news.

“Linda, this is not normal!”

He said that with an alarmed tone. I raised my eyes: he was not talking about me; he was commenting on the news. I concentrated on my sandwiches. If I ever get in heaven, I'll have scotch woodcock sandwiches at least once per week. Linda shrugged.

“What is normal nowadays!”

“No, no, dear. This shit is wide outside the norm.”

“Robert!”

The news on TV told a different story than what I heard at the police station. Here they talked about a significant spill incident of some chemical pollutant. Some speculated it was nuclear. As if that would be so difficult to verify?

“It is a whole county that has been closed! Imagine that! Not even one hundred kilometres from here, the whole county is locked! Everybody leaving has to go through some camp to be checked for contaminants!”

“How could this happen?”

As I finished my plate, I went towards my room to take my schoolbag when Mrs Robertson put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

“Dolores, you do not look well. Rest another day. I'll call the school to inform them!”

Mr Robertson protested:

“But she was already outside jogging.”

She silenced him:

“Sshht, Robert. Yes, she was outside, and she does not feel well. The young girl would like to be active, but it is not good. So, to your room, young lady!”

I went sheepishly to my room. I was happy to be sent to sleep but have not yet managed to talk about my driver's license. I have to do it now before things get too bad. I came back into the kitchen and asked Mrs Robertson.

"Can I have a cocoa, please?"

She raised a brow but nodded. I usually make the cocoa myself. I should not exaggerate by asking her to do things for me, but I used now my 'being sick' bonus.

Now I can talk with them a little more and bring the conversation toward my target: my driver's license.

“Mr Robertson, I was thinking of buying a bike. Can you recommend one that you think would be good for me?”

I know he is a bike fan. He had an old bike that he drove once per year through the neighbourhood.

At first, he was very dismissive of me driving a bike: I am too weak, bikes are heavy. Maybe if I buy an electric one. But those accelerate too fast. There are some small ones to have without a license that would be good, but I still must be careful. Why not a bicycle or a scooter?

"Yeah, but I want one with a license."

He was not wholly dismissive of that, but he focused on the license part. He explained what Clara and Lola did for the license. Then he added that you get a lot of responsibility with a permit. The subject obviously pained them, and he tried to cut it short. However, it was my time to say it:

“But I already have a license; that's why I want to buy a bike?!”

I brought out my new license. There was a moment of silence in the kitchen.

Mrs Robertson realized first the implications.

“YOU have a driver's license?”

I answered as normally as I could muster:

“Yes, since two weeks...”

He took it in his hand and examined it, not believing it. Then he raised his eyes. The two looked at each other.

“This changes a couple of things!”

I played the unknowing teen raising my brows:

“I don't understand?”

Mrs Robertson smiled at me:

“It is no problem, darling. May we keep your driver's license for a moment? Robert would like to verify something. No, it is not about you. It is a different story. I'll give it right back to you. Now go to your room and sleep. We'll talk later!”

On the way to my room, I crossed my fingers. I hope and pray that White Flower did a good job. Oh, fuck! A lot is in balance now.