Spider Webs - 13. Chapter 13: The Calm before the storm

Chapter 13: The Calm before the Storm.

“It’s your fault! So stop it! Just stop it!”

The crying wouldn’t stop. I grabbed him, shook him, shook him harder! “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Just shut up!”

Couldn’t stop shaking. “Stop crying.” I couldn’t stop shaking him.

“Micah!”

My eyes snapped open. My head was pounding. Something soft tickled my face. I inhaled deeply: A pleasant, slightly musky scent filled my nose, helped me relax. I’d had a dream. A really bad dream.

“Micah.” The voice was soft, sharp and filled with worry. I pulled away from Patrick and sat up. I decided I wasn't going to obsess over the fact that my nose had been buried in Patrick's armpit.

“What time is it?” I mumbled, reached out and found Patrick’s bare chest. The blankets were around his waist.

“It’s four-thirty in the morning,” he mumbled. “You okay? You kept mumbling in your sleep.”

I nodded, and then realized he probably couldn’t see me very well.

“Yeah,” I responded, lying through my teeth. “My head hurts though,” I added.

A soft snort. “No surprise there. You drank so much you passed out on the ride home,” he murmured as a soft chirp filled the room. Patrick sat up and fumbled around beside the bed, and then pulled his cell-phone out of his jeans.

“Everything okay?” I asked

“Yeah, just my alarm clock. Got to head out and get chores done,” he answered as he turned around to look at me. I could barely make him out in the moon light coming through the window. He fumbled in the dark until he had hold of one of my hands, pressed something to it.

“Here, take this. It’ll help with the hangover,” he murmured, holding something else in his other hand. Aspirin and water. I took them and handed the water back, fell backward until my head was on a pillow.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, closed my eyes. “Yeah, just a dream,” I murmured.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. “No. They happen a lot this time of year,” I replied, too tired to think about lying.

“Ok,” he murmured. I was glad he was letting the topic of my dreams go. I felt the mattress shift.

“What’re you doing?” I mumbled. Come to think of it, why was he in my bed with me. I didn’t think he had meant it when he said he was sleeping with me. The light turned on. I squeezed my eyes shut and rolled over, hid my face in my pillow and let out a groan of objection.

He laughed. “Got chores to do, want to help?”

It was the second time he’d asked me to help him with his chores. I heard rustling, could only assume he was getting dressed.

“At four in the morning? Don’t think so,” I replied.

Another soft laugh. “Are you sure? Might be a change of pace compared to the chores you do around here,” he replied.

“Patrick, I don’t do chores around here.”

He snorted. “Sure you do.”

I sighed, not sure why he was picking an argument with me.

“No I don’t,” I mumbled again.

“Okay. Who cooks?”

“Me. Because if I didn’t we’d all be poisoned,” I replied.

“…and the laundry?”

“Mine and Joel’s,” I replied, finally rolling over to look at him. I was just in time to catch him sliding his shirt over his head. I could also make out my imprint on his body from where I’d been lying against him. I guess I hadn’t been shy about cuddling with him through the night.

“Reese’s too,” he added. I frowned. How did he know that? It was like he was stalking me.

I nodded. “Yeah, so…”

“Who takes out the trash?”

“Me…”

“Cleans the house?”

“Also…” I stopped, seeing where he was going.

“Also you,” he finished for me.

“Elizabeth cleans, too” I pointed out. “Okay…so I have chores to do. What’s your point?”

“My point is you should get Joel and Reese to help out. It won’t kill them, and you'll have more time to work on that house out back rather than only being able to spend a few hours here or there getting it done,” he replied.

Patrick had a good point. “I’ll think about it.”

He nodded.

“You sure you don’t want to help me with my chores?” he asked once more.

I yawned at him. “Yup,” I answered. “You know, you could do them later,” I told him. I wasn’t going to think about the fact that I was trying to invite him back into my bed, either.

He shook his head at me. “Nope, the horses won’t feed themselves, you know. Neither will the dogs and…”

I sat up. “Horses?” I asked, almost curious enough to get out of bed now.

“Yup,” he replied. “Got to muck out the stables,” he answered.

The thought of mucking out stables killed my curiosity. I lay back down, closed my eyes and opened them again. He was brushing his fingers through his hair. “I don’t recall seeing any horses at your house…or a stable, for that matter,” I informed him.

He just smiled at me. “Perhaps one of these days I’ll show them to you,” he replied. I shrugged my shoulder and closed my eyes.

“Have fun,” I finally offered, “and make sure you shut off the light on your way out…”

A huff of laughter left his mouth. “Okay.”

I nodded. The light had just been shut off when I finally said “Patrick, thanks for last night. I had fun…don’t think I’m drinking again, though.”

I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. Decided I didn’t care. “You’re welcome,” he finally whispered.

It wasn’t until later that I’d decide to be embarrassed about last night. I also decided that Timmy and his rules about using manners were annoying. I’m not sure I liked being nice to Patrick, but whatever. It wasn’t worth thinking about. It was worth going back to sleep, though. So long as the dreams didn’t come back. I didn’t have much hope for that.

---

My pillow smelled like fresh soap and it was way too warm in my bed. I opened my eyes, wondering why it was so warm in my bed. Patrick had come back and managed to slip into bed without waking me up.

My nose was, once more, buried in his armpit.

Patrick was wide awake, running his fingers through my hair. I thought about saying something but I was enjoying what he was doing. It also once more reminded me that Patrick, for whatever reason, seemed to like me. Thinking about it, I had to admit that I enjoyed the fact that someone, at least, liked me sexually. It opened a new realm of possibilities that my throbbing morning wood liked the idea of. I’d even go so far as to say that maybe, just maybe, I liked him back. Besides, he’d be useful in winter when it got cold out.

I wasn’t sure about anything else, though. It was something I would have to think about later.

“What time is it?” I asked, a feeling of déjà vu settled over me as this morning’s conversation repeated itself.

“Noon,” he replied.

I turned and stared at the clock in disbelief. I never slept in this late. An aching bladder told me that I had, in fact, been asleep for a long time. As was the fact that I could feel cravings for my nicotine addiction sneaking up on me like a train going across an intersection at full speed, halting all traffic.

I scrambled over Patrick, my morning wood brushing into his leg not so lightly. I threw clothes on that I pulled from the dresser and ran for the bathroom. Patrick was waiting for me when I came out, slightly bemused. He was opening his mouth to speak when I held up a hand, stopping him. I cocked my head to the side and listened intently. I was hearing a hammer. Several hammers, actually. I ran outside the house and flew across the back field, stopping in surprise.

“Morning, sleepy-head!” someone hollered.

I shielded my eyes and squinted up at the roof.

“Afternoon,” I replied, staring up at Avery. He was on the roof with Ken and Timmy, nailing boards into place.

I climbed up the ladder standing against the house to inspect their work. I stopped though when I realized that Reese and Joel were out there on the side of the house, using pitch-forks to pick up the old shingles and haul them over to the roll-off; to be disposed of later. “You two put on face masks,” I hollered down at them, standing up on the roof. “No idea what sort of material they used in building this house.” They waved up at me in acknowledgment. “Joel, you should have known better, too,” I added, mildly rebuking him.

I turned back to the roof, inspecting it. It looked like everyone had been there working for a good deal of time. “How long you all been working on this?” I asked.

“Since six this morning,” Ken replied.

“Seven,” Avery shot out.

“Ten, I wanted to sleep in,” Timmy replied as a blond head came into view. I hummed with curiosity, but didn’t say anything. Just smiled when I realized that Patrick was resolutely staring forward, refusing to look down as he slowly made his way onto the roof, a couple of tool-belts slung over his shoulder. I grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the ledge when he finally made it.

“You don’t have to come up here if you’re afraid of heights,” I told him.

He snorted, looked back toward the ground and immediately turned forward again. “I’m not afraid of heights,” he said. The little shiver that wracked his body as he lied through his teeth gave him away. I decided not to argue with him.

“Okay,” was all I said as he handed me a tool-belt.

“Sleep good?” Avery asked as I held back, holding onto Patrick’s elbow as he moved past me and further up onto the roof, presumably to a spot that he felt was safe.

“Yup,” I replied. I hoped Avery hadn’t said anything to anyone about my adventure last night with alcohol.

“He had a nightmare this morning,” Patrick said a second later. I immediately scowled at him, wondering why he would tell them that. Somewhere else in the back of my head I wondered if I might be able to push him off the roof.

“Really?” Timmy asked, interested.

“Yup,” Patrick answered, pretending he didn’t see me glaring at him. “He wouldn’t tell me about it, though, and I haven’t had much of a chance to pester him either.”

“Want to talk about it?” Timmy asked.

I laughed it off uneasily. “No,” I said. “They occur from time to time.”

I ignored the looks they were giving one another. Decided to change the subject. “So…what brought you all out here?” I asked.

“Rain,” Ken said as if that should explain everything. I looked up at the clear blue skies.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain,” I dryly informed Ken.

“Not today. Tomorrow either, from the weather report. But we’re supposed to get some this week and it may not stop again until next summer, so I called Avery and Timmy and asked for help,” he replied.

”Thanks,” I said as I inspected the roof. One side had been covered with new wood-decking.

“I’ll start over here,” I replied. I grabbed the closest pile of flashing and unrolled it, positioned it and set to work.

It was after an hour or so of working that I realized Patrick was staring at me, sitting with his legs splayed out so he had contact with two sides of the roof. He’d been in that same position since we got up here, I realized. It made me wince. I knew for a fact that sitting with the ridge between his ass cheeks like that wasn’t very comfortable.

The thought of something between his ass-cheeks sent my mind spiraling with a thousand different thoughts, all of them pleasant, up until I hit my thumb with the hammer.

“Ow!” I yelped. Patrick snickered. I flushed and dropped the hammer, barely paid any attention as it slid down the side of the roof. I hadn’t hit myself with a hammer since I’d turned fourteen.

“Holy shit!” someone else yelped. “Hey, watch it, ass-wipe! Jesus freaking Christ; I wouldn't mind getting hammered…but not with a hammer…”

I sucked on my thumb and scooted down the side of the roof until I was staring over the eave.

“Micah…” Patrick blurted out, sounding nervous.

“Hi Ben,” I greeted the shirtless boy. He just glared at me. He wasn’t the only person there, either. I could see Stacie and some guy I didn’t know carrying wheel-barrows into the roll-off. Reese was off to the side with Lissa. I did a double-take when I saw that because it looked to me like he was flirting with her. Uncle Bryce was there, too. I waved at him and crawled back up the roof.

“Everything going okay over here?” I heard a voice ask. “I thought I heard someone say ‘ouch.’ ”

“Everything’s fine, Timmy. Just hit myself with the hammer, is all,” I remarked, still annoyed with that fact.

“And me!” Ben shouted. I rolled my eyes.

“It came down a mile away from you, you were fine!” I shouted back. “Besides, that’s what they make hard hats for!”

Ben fell quiet, not saying anything.

“Bugger,” Patrick muttered.

“Hey Uncle Bryce!” Ben shouted, “You want to take me to the hardware store? I need a hard hat.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Now you done it,” he muttered, looking at me.

I frowned, wondering what the hell it was that I’d done, exactly. “He’s always wanted to do that YMCA dance in costume,” Patrick explained. “Keeps trying to talk the rest of us into doing it with him.”

The thought of Ben wearing tight jeans, workers boots, a button-down shirt that was hardly buttoned and a hardhat made me burst into laughter. I was still shaking my head when I spotted Timmy still looking at us with a smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, feeling uncomfortable.

“You work fast,” Timmy said in return as he examined the work I’d gotten done. I didn’t know what to say to that so I just shrugged at him. “I don’t even think we’ve gotten near as much done as you have by yourself,” he said. “How’d you learn to do all this stuff anyway?” he asked.

I shrugged. “When I was almost fourteen my dad’s boss figured I was heading for more trouble than I’d know what to do with during the summers and school year so he would pick me and Joel up on weekends and after school, and the week when school was out. He owned a construction company.”

Timmy looked thoughtful. “What kind of trouble?” he asked.

I shook my head at him and smiled. “On your own time mister; right now you’re on mine,” I replied, semi-playful.

Timmy just gave me a grin and shrugged. “It was worth a try,” he said.

“Yea, I guess it was,” I said as I climbed further up the roof and examined what they had managed to get done. Three rows of hardwood decking had been laid down and they were scraping off what shingles were left.

I flinched when I saw Ken standing on a piece of sagging wood decking.

“Hey Ken!” I hollered. He looked at me. “Can you move off that, please?” I asked.

“What, this?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s rot…”

“It’ll be fine,” Ken scoffed, bouncing up and down on the piece of wood. I closed my eyes when the board let out an all-too familiar cracking sound, opened them back up and watched in what seemed like slow-motion as Ken’s face turned to one of surprise: an ‘o’ shape formed on his mouth as the wood decking gave way and he went…very slowly…through the roof.

“…ten…”

I hoped the floor beneath the roof held. I scurried across the roof to peer down over the edges of the hole. Dust and what I hoped was plaster were swirling in the air when I found Ken's body lying in a pile of wood.

“Micah…” Patrick squeaked, sounding scared. I ignored him.

“Ken!” That was Timmy doing all the hollering.

“Someone call 911!” Avery himself was shouting as he rushed for the nearest ladder. I could hear someone else; I think it was Elizabeth, hollering, wanting to know what the hell was going on.

As for me, I couldn’t think. Just stared as everyone started to panic and shout back and forth. Everyone except Avery, I realized, as I saw him appear below me.

“Micah…” Patrick said again. Whining. I ignored him. I was trying to figure out if Ken was still alive. I don’t think I started breathing again until I saw a hint of movement from one of his arms.

“He’s alive,” Avery shouted.

“He’s alive!” Timmy repeated, for everyone else’s benefit.

“Micah!” Patrick shouted. I finally looked over my shoulder at him.

“What?” I asked, more sharply than I intended.

“I have to use the bloody loo,” he blurted out, looked nervously at the edge of the roof where the ladder was.

I looked at him, confused. I didn’t know what a loo was. “What’s a bloody loo?”

“The bathroom; damn it. It’s the bloody bathroom!”

I let out a groan and, in an effort to stay quiet, clapped my hands over my mouth to muffle my laughter. Didn’t want anyone to think I was a jerk.

---

Freaking jerks!

They were all a bunch of freaking jerks, and I was not happy that I had been left behind. I seriously mean it, too. Everyone but Patrick had left me behind when the ambulance transported Ken to the hospital. They hadn’t even asked me if I wanted to go, not that I minded. Much. Whatever.

It’d taken me more than thirty minutes to coax Patrick off the roof of the house. Hell, I’d even come close to calling the fire department to come get him off my roof. The only thing that stopped me though was him begging me not to. Apparently the threat of embarrassment was the key to getting him moving because he’d finally managed to get to the ladder. Once he was down he ran for the the main house without so much as a thank-you.

As for me, I was sitting in the kitchen, staring at the cell phone that I’d tried using for the first time since I’d gotten it. Everyone whose number I had was going to voice-mail. I let out a growl and dropped the cell phone onto the counter, giving it the best glare I could possibly muster. It didn’t do any good; no one called me back.

Patrick came into the kitchen as I wiped the sweat off my forehead.

“Thanks, I feel much better,” he mumbled. Still embarrassed, I imagined.

“Yeah, no problem,” I replied, picked up my cellphone and left the kitchen. I went onto the back porch. I needed a cigarette. Patrick followed me out there.

“So…want me to go get my car?” he asked.

“For what?” I asked distracted by the house and a hole I could barely make out.

“So we can get to the hospital,” he stated, as if the answer should have been obvious.

I shook my head. Being pissed because I had been forgotten while everyone went to the hospital and actually going to the hospital myself were two different things. “No,” I replied. “You can go if you want too, though,” I added, remembering pictures of Patrick hugging Ken when he was younger.

“What? Why the bloody hell not?” he asked. The way his accent thickened let me know how upset he was with my answer. The glare on his face told me he wasn’t going to leave until he got an answer. I wasn’t sure I felt like explaining it to him, but…

I sighed. “I don’t handle hospitals very well,” I admitted. He raised his eyebrow at me, surprised.

“The last time I was in the hospital…when you…” I blushed. His eyebrow arched higher. “…You know…saw my…” I glanced around and whispered the word, still embarrassed over that betrayal from my own body. “…Boner…” His cheeks turned red and he looked away. I took a breath.

“Well, I was freaking out in there. I just…don’t handle hospitals, so I think I’m going to stay here,” I finished. He nodded, looked like he actually understood what I was saying. I decided I wasn’t going to laugh at him ever again for being afraid of heights.

I lit up my cigarette, inhaled. It was, I realized, the first cigarette I’d had all day. Patrick pulled it out of my mouth and tossed it on the ground.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” I objected.

“I don’t like that you smoke,” he informed me, “And you probably ought to stop, seeing as you could end up in the hospital with cancer,” he added, smugly.

I glowered at him for that. “We should take a trip to Mount Rainier sometime,” I growled at him.

He raised his eyebrow at me. “Why’s that?” he asked.

“So I can put you on the highest cliff and leave you there,” I replied smugly.

He had the nerve to grin at me in response. I found myself smiling back. My breath hitched a little. I found myself stepping closer to him, staring intently into his green eyes. Watched in fascination as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, swallowing the fluid was in his mouth.

“So…” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

I had no idea why we were whispering. I became intensely aware of how close we were and the heat radiating off his body. I stepped away and walked off the porch.

“Where you going?” he squeaked.

“To find my hammer,” I shouted over my shoulder. “I have a roof to finish. You should probably stay on the ground if you’re sticking around,” I added.

He didn’t, and he did. But once I’d figured out that he’d set a ladder going through the hole in my roof and didn’t seem to have any problems going up and down it, I stopped worrying. The only problems we had were when he had to climb up an outside ladder to help me get the rest of the wood-decking onto the roof and when he had to get really close to the edge of the roof.

The sun was beginning to set when I finally picked my shirt up off the roof and took a look at all the work we had gotten done.

Despite his sense of heightened awareness, we still managed to get the rest of the roof torn off in good time, new decking laid down, the flashing, the underlay and I’d even gotten shingles laid down on part of the roof, though Patrick hadn’t been of much help there. The closer he got to the eave of the roof, the more useless he became.

“Let’s call it a night and go cook dinner,” I hollered at Patrick.

He nodded and stood up, ready to make his way back down the ladder he’d put through the hole Ken had made before he realized I’d taken the ladder out and sealed up said hole.

“Uh, Micah…”

It was a problem I’d seen coming from the moment I’d done it and I couldn’t help but laugh at him. I crawled down the roof and onto the ladder. “I’ll see you when you manage to make it down,” I said, smirking. “I’m gonna go smoke and take a shower,” I added, debating something in my head.

I decided to go for it and took a page from Ben’s book. “You should hurry up and get down so you can join me…” I felt myself blush. Whatever Patrick was about to say never got said.

“Help save water, and all that.” I decided to scurry down the ladder than, too embarrassed to stick around and see if he actually made it down the ladder. I figured I’d know for sure if he actually followed my advice and joined me in the shower…naked.

He was still up there, beginning to holler at the top of his lungs, when I went inside. I think I was disappointed when he didn’t join me in the shower. I know for a fact that I was disappointed to realize that he had made it down from the roof, though. He’d also decided to take a shower in the basement bathroom, too. At least, that’s what I was figuring when I saw him come traipsing up the stairs, shirtless and toweling of his head.

“That was mean,” he remarked.

I smirked. “You still got down from the roof, though,” I pointed out.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, not looking at me now.

I decided to raid the cupboards.

“Hear anything from…”

“Not yet,” I muttered.

“I’ll go call them and see what I can find out, then,” he replied immediately.

I nodded, found something to cook with the steaks someone had pulled out to thaw.

“They’re on their way back,” Patrick announced when he came back to the kitchen. “Need help with anything?” He asked.

I turned and looked at him. “Can you cook?” I asked.

He smiled at me. “I don’t burn things…or undercook things…like Elizabeth does, if that’s what you’re asking,” he informed me.

“Okay..uh…can you cut the steaks up into strips and toss them into a frying pan?”

“You got it, boss,” he replied.

I nodded.

The kitchen fell quiet as we worked. It wasn’t a strained quiet, though. It was natural, and comfortable. We didn’t even get in each other’s way as we worked. It was like we belonged. It was disconcerting, because after I’d moved in and took over the cooking duties, I had promptly told everyone to stay the hell out of my kitchen.

I had no desire to kick Patrick out, and as he worked I found myself once more watching him. Wanting to know why he hadn’t crawled into the shower with me. Had he thought I was joking? Perhaps I had been, at first. But thinking about it made me realize just how serious I had been.

“What?” he asked. He’d caught me staring.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, shaking my head.

“You okay, Micah? You’ve been acting a bit funny all day. Are you still thinking about the nightmare you were having?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No…that’s not it,” I replied. I felt a sudden dread at the thought of having to go to sleep tonight.

“So what is it? You can tell me, you know that right?”

I cocked my head at him. The thought entered my mind that he still hadn’t told me why he had lied to the judge. It was something I hadn’t thought much about over the past couple of weeks, ever since I’d started speaking to him again.

It made me realize that as long as I was ignoring the things he had done, and the reasons he had for doing them in the first place, whatever they were, then I wasn’t angry with him. In fact, I found I enjoyed being around him.

Because today when it was just me and him; everything had felt justright.

Patrick was still looking at me, curious.

“You’re staying the night again, right?” I finally asked.

“Yeah, I mean sure, if you want me to,” he answered, gave me another look I couldn’t quite read. It felt like dragons were flying around and mating in my stomach.

“When this is done drain the meat and stir the strips in,” I ordered. “I’m gonna go smoke again.”

Patrick nodded as I made my escape from the kitchen. Elizabeth pulled up in her mini-van as I lit up my cigarette. I watched Joel and Reese crowd Ken as he hobbled around the side of the van, holding onto his back.

They were almost to the porch when Patrick came outside, pulled my cigarette from my mouth and tossed it. I rolled my eyes at him.

“How is he?” he asked Elizabeth, ignoring me.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Crying like a baby that his back hurts,” she replied with a grin that I could see was meant with love and compassion.

“What’d the doctors say?” I asked. Despite myself, I was curious.

“He’ll be fine. Just needs a couple days of rest, no heavy lifting,” Elizabeth told me. “That means no roofing for now,” she added in case I didn’t get it.

I shrugged at that. “Roof’s almost done, anyways. I’ll have it finished tomorrow,” I informed her. Patrick nodded in agreement.

Elizabeth shot me a baleful look. “You’re not supposed to be up there by yourself,” she said.

“I wasn’t by myself,” I replied defensively, “Patrick was with me.” Not that he would have been much use if something bad had happened. I didn’t tell her that, though.

“And Uncle Bryce said he’ll be back tomorrow just now when he called,” Patrick added. “He wants to help finish the roof.” Uncle Bryce must have called when I hadn't been around, because I couldn't recall him calling.

Elizabeth sighed, looked like she was about to object. “Dinner’s ready,” I shot in there, deciding it wouldn’t be a bad idea to butter her up with food. The look on her face said she knew what I was doing. I pouted at her.

She rolled her eyes but gave in. “Fiiiinne.”

I pumped my fist in the air, feeling triumphant.

“C’mon, let’s go eat!” I shouted.

I ignored Ken’s grumpy “Glad someone’s cheerful.”

But that’s probably because I wanted to say, “I told you to move.”

It wasn’t worth making him crankier than he already was.

I’m just glad the doctors gave him a prescription for pain-killers that knocked him out right after dinner. Despite the fact that he was out cold everyone else still sat around the living room and watched TV, and slowly but surely everyone began to wonder off to bed. Except me and Patrick. The clock was hitting two a.m. and I was struggling to stay awake.

“We should go to bed if we’re going to finish the roof tomorrow,” Patrick said as a huge yawn escaped me.

“You should have gone to bed hours ago if you got chores to do in a couple hours,” I retorted softly, trying my best to not sound cranky.

Patrick gave me a sympathetic look that told me he knew why I was trying to stay awake. It was a look that I didn’t mind coming from him.

“I don’t have chores tomorrow,” he informed me. “It’s my aunts’ and uncles’ turn. My grandpa agreed with me when I told him that, since they lived there too, they should help out more. Especially since technically I just moved in.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but I couldn’t argue with it. Patrick got off the couch, turned off the lights and armed the alarm. I hadn’t known he’d had his own code, but considering how much he was over there, I probably shouldn’t have been surprised. He came back to the couch and pulled on my arm, helping me get up.

“C’mon, let’s go conquer your dreams,” he whispered. It was corny. It made me smile as he shut off the TV and dragged me off to my bedroom.

I kicked him off the bed when he tried crawling in next to me, tossed him a pillow and a spare blanket I’d snatched off the couch on the way up. He looked confused.

“You’re sleeping on the floor, mister,” I informed him.

He squinted at me. “What’d I do?”

“You wasted my cigarettes,” I replied.

He sighed but lay down on the floor anyway.

I shut off the side lamp next to my bed; laid there in the dark.

According to the clock five minutes hadn’t even passed. “Patrick?” I whispered.

“Hrm?” he grunted, tossed on the floor.

“Get up here.” Once more I hid my face in my pillow, felt his body sliding in next to mine. The warmth was comforting. I succeeded in resisting the urge to burrow into him for more warmth.

“G’night,” I whispered.

“Night Micah,” he whispered back.

I fell asleep. This time the dreams didn’t come.

---

“There’s a storm front moving in that should hit about five tonight…”

Six a.m. Thursday morning and I was awake and depressed. I shut off the weather report I’d been looking at. The dreams had come back and Patrick hadn’t been there to wake me up. I’d made him go back home on Sunday night after the roof had been finished and Uncle Bryce had told him there was an overnight bag packed for Patrick in his car.

Patrick hadn’t wanted to go home, but I’d insisted. I didn’t feel like I needed a baby-sitter there. He still came by on Monday night and ate dinner with us. He’d helped with the house too, and on Tuesday night when I was teaching Reese how to play the guitar, like I’d promised I would, he’d been in a corner of the basement dancing while playing music through his headphones, lip-syncing to whatever he was listening to. Yeah, I hadn’t asked what that was about either.

The dreams had been worse this morning. More vivid; and full of details I’d just as soon forget. But I wouldn’t. My nightmares had once been reality—when I had turned eleven, five years ago to the day.

It was my birthday. I was sixteen.

It was raining outside, making everything gloomy and overcast. The weather matched my mood perfectly. I wanted the day to go away.

A soft knocking at my door told me that wasn’t going to happen.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to. The door swung open, revealing Ken’s features in the light of the hallway.

“Micah?” he whispered.

I looked up from where I was sitting on my bed, fully dressed with homework splayed around me. Homework that wasn’t getting done because I was sitting in the dark.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He looked worried. They all were. I knew that, because I'd been catching some of the looks they’d been giving each other behind my back all week.

It’d been rather nice of them to not pry. More importantly, though, they were letting me be crabby and depressing.

“Still not sleeping?” Ken asked.

“I got a few hours,” I informed him.

“Do you…”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, afraid that he was going to ask if I wanted to talk about it. Because I didn’t.

He just nodded. “C’mon,” he finally said, “we got somewhere to be. Bring what you need for school; I’ll drop you off this morning.”

I nodded, threw everything in my backpack, followed him down the stairs and out the back door. I wanted a cigarette. I didn’t smoke anymore.

The silence was killing me. “You’re not taking me to another AA meeting, are you?” I asked.

Ken smiled, shook his head. “Not unless you feel you want to go. Though in your case you’d probably be better off at an ala-teen meeting,” he replied.

I cocked my head, followed him to the Ferrari. He tossed me his keys and went to the passenger door.

“What’s an ala-teen meeting?” I asked.

“It’s a meeting for teenagers and kids like you who have alcoholic parents or parent,” he replied.

I shook my head, gave him a faint smile. “Oh yeah. I think they had something like that at juvie. I never got to go. I don’t think I want to go,” I told him.

He just nodded, slowly got in the car. His back was still hurting some, but he insisted he’d be okay.

“So…you’re not taking me to a surprise therapy session, are you?” I asked once I got in the car.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Doctor’s office? I don’t do hospitals very well.” He looked slightly surprised. Pleased, too. Like I had just answered a question he had had but didn’t want to ask.

He smiled. “No, Micah, and it’s a surprise. Nothing bad, I promise. You’ve been studying, right?” he asked.

I nodded, knowing immediately what he was talking about. He’d given me a pamphlet from the DMV for my driver’s license test.

“Okay, so…start the car and drive. I’ll quiz you while on the way to our destination.”

I nodded, started the car and shifted smoothly into reverse.

Ken and even Elizabeth had been taking me out driving a lot, lately. They said it was because I needed a lot of practice hours in order to get my license, and they didn’t mind wasting the gas. I didn’t mind either. Their cars were a lot easier to drive, not to mention in better shape, than Patrick’s car.

I wasn’t going to tell them that the new dent in the side of Patrick’s beat up junker was from where I’d put it in the ditch on the side of a dirt road. I was just glad Uncle Bryce had been able to come around to help pull it out. He made Patrick promise to not let me drive again, though, considering Patrick wasn’t old enough for me to drive on a learner’s permit with him. Otherwise he was going to leave it there. I’d had to promise to not let Patrick talk me into doing anything stupid that would get us in trouble. We’d all agreed. I think the whole incident had scared some sense into us. That had been Monday after school, when I was too restless to do anything and Patrick had suggested we go do something.

Ken started quizzing me, every now and then giving me directions to wherever it was we were going, not seeming to mind the morning traffic as several people headed off to work. Most of them were Navy. Apparently there was a submarine base in the area, though I’d yet to see it. Ken worked from there on occasion, when his clients were in the military.

We finally got to our destination. I think I’d been expecting breakfast at Burger King, or something. Not the DMV. I wasn’t smiling now. I hadn’t been aware of the fact that people knew when, exactly, my birthday was. I just thought Ken and Elizabeth would take me to the DMV when I wanted to go, or told them we should go, because, you know, my birthday had gone past. I hadn’t even told Joel, and yeah, I know people would probably expect him to know when my birthday was, but I’d stopped reminding him a long time ago.

As far as I was concerned, my birthday was bad. I didn’t want any reminders of it. Especially where Joel was concerned.

“Happy birthday,” Ken said, cheerfully.

I looked at him, tried to smile but I know it came out as a frown.

“Micah?” he wasn’t smiling anymore either. He looked concerned. Really concerned.

“Uh…” I stuttered, “Thanks.” I gave him a smile. It turned into a grimace.

“So…” Uncomfortable. “We should get in there, so I’m not late to class.”

This time I did manage to succeed in forcing a smile. Ken nodded and got out of the car. I was standing at the door to the building by the time he got out.

He gave me what I think was supposed to be a reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine, you know that, right? We’ve practiced and practiced and practiced, you know all the answers. So don’t worry about this, okay?”

I think he thought I was stressing out over the driver’s test and questionnaire and crap. I decided not to let him think otherwise.

“Yeah,” I replied, “you’re right. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

It wasn’t, though.

I’d passed the written examination with flying colors. The driving test was easy, too. Just drive around a few blocks, do everything right. At least, it was supposed to be easy. I frowned.

“You’re signaling too soon,” the guy next to me said, marking something down on his clipboard.

I was nervous.

“Now pull over here,” he later said, “and act like you’re making an emergency stop.”

I did as he said. Hit the turn blinker to signal that I was pulling over, came to a stop next to the curb, put the car in neutral and pulled up on the brake.

“That’s everything?” he asked.

I racked my head, trying to think. “Yes sir,” I finally answered. Ken had told me to be polite and respectful.

“You forgot to turn on the hazard lights,” the guy replied. He made another notation on his clipboard. “Let’s go back to the DMV.”

I gritted my teeth. My stomach hurt. It was a good thing Ken and I hadn’t stopped to get anything to eat. But I did as the guy said, took us back to the DMV and followed him slowly into the building, cursing myself out because I’d signaled too soon and forgotten the stupid hazard lights. It was an utter failure.

“Congratulations, you passed. You can stand in that line and get your photo taken for your license,” the man said, handed me a piece of paper.

I was startled. I took the paper, couldn’t stop myself from grinning. Ken was approaching. I flashed him two-thumbs up. He grinned back, looked proud.

My stomach hurt a little bit more. We still managed to make it through the line where I was told not to smile.

That wasn’t very hard to accomplish. It felt natural.

I was still fingering my new license when Ken dropped me off at school, a Sonic’s bag full of food in my hand. “Hey, I need to go grocery shopping later,” I told Ken. He looked distracted, the way he checked his watch. I think he needed to get to Seattle to meet with a client.

“Okay… and Micah, congratulations,” he replied, handed me his debit card and drove off. I could only stare after him.

Today was my birthday, and Ken had known. I had my driver’s license. I shook my head, nibbled on the breakfast burrito in my hand. I wasn’t hungry anymore so I threw it out and fished around in my backpack until I came up with a pack of cigarettes.

I went across the street and sat down on the curb. Let the rain soak my clothes. I barely avoided the mud, yawned and lit up my cigarette. I’m not sure where he came from, but it was Patrick that sat down next to me.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“I’m not putting it out, so please don’t bother me about my smoking today,” I said.

He looked taken a-back.

“Okay,” he finally said. Took a breath. “Let’s try this again…Good morning.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Morning,” I returned.

He grinned at me, eyed my cigarette.

I shook my head at him. “I’m still not putting it out,” I informed him.

He grinned at me but gave up.

“Yes you are, young man,” someone else said.

I turned and looked at the man standing there, a ring of white hair surrounding a bald pate on his head was the most noticeable thing. His mustache was next. He looked kind of like a weasel. I was pretty sure I’d seen him around school before, I just couldn’t place him.

I frowned at him. “No, I’m not.” I replied. Patrick mumbled an ‘oh shit’ next to me.

“Yes young man-” I stood up in the street.

“Listen dickhead,” I cut him off. “I don’t give a rat’s ass who you are. I don’t care, either. I’m not on school property, so do me a favor and fuck off.”

Patrick gasped. “That’s the principal,” he informed me.

Oh… Well, in that case… “Still don’t care. School hasn’t started yet, I’m on public property, and he’s picking the wrong day to fuck with me.” I glared at the man as I said this.

“Okay okay,” Patrick mumbled, “let’s just…c’mon…” Patrick stood up, grabbed hold of my wrist and tugged at me until I turned away from the principal who just stared at me like he didn’t know what to make of me. I followed Patrick, unsure of where he was taking me.

“Micah…”

“I know! I‘m sorry…I’m just…not sleeping well,” I informed Patrick.

He exhaled, nodded his head. “It’s okay. C’mon. You’re going to have to put your cigarettes in my car,” he said.

I frowned. “Twenty bucks says he has you searched when we walk into the school,” Patrick added. I didn’t argue with him as we got to a side street that Patrick had parked on. I just tossed my cigarettes and lighter into his glove-box without argument.

“Invasion of privacy. He has no probable cause,” I replied immediately. I’d been reading some of Ken’s law books that were in his office lately. They helped me fall asleep, because that’s how boring they were. They just didn’t stop the dreams from coming.

“School property,” Patrick retorted immediately.

“Doesn’t matter,” I replied as we started walking toward the school again; grateful for the distraction Patrick was providing me with.

“Sure it does, schools have a lower standard when it comes to search and seizures,” Patrick rebutted.

“No they don’t,” I replied as we crossed the street and up the stone steps, into the school building. We were stopped immediately, just as Patrick had said we would be.

“Those two right there,” a crabby voice barked. I looked up and spotted the principal. “I want them both searched,” he said to two school security guards. I squinted at the second one, and ended up smirking.

He was the one that had ended up sitting on me last week when I’d tried sneaking out of the school. He waved at me in acknowledgment.

“Let’s go, gentlemen,” the first one said. That one looked slightly annoyed.

“I got this one,” the second one said, pointing his thumb at me.

“No,” I said immediately. Patrick rolled his eyes. “What’re you doing?” he hissed.

“I told you, they have no probable cause,” I answered.

The first security guard rolled his eyes. “Great, another kid who thinks he’s a lawyer,” he muttered.

“C’mon Micah,” the second one said. I was surprised he remembered my name, because I didn’t remember his. I just remembered that he had good wrestling moves. I think I’d even asked him to teach me a few of them. I shook my head at him. “Yes. We’ll debate the legalities of the situation in our office, or do I need to call-”

I grunted. “Fine,” I snapped.

“What’re we looking for, Mr. Warren?” the first guard asked.

“Cigarettes. And watch out for that mouthy little punk. He steps one toe out of line you bring him to my office, so I can expel him,” the principal snapped.

I decided right then that I really didn’t like this man. Someone muttered an ‘oh brother’, I think it was another security guard standing off to the side. I winked at the principal and watched his face turn red before I was being escorted down the hall to a side office that the campus security used. Patrick and I were told to sit down. I folded my arms across my chest and immediately began to prepare for an argument.

“So what’d you do to piss off the warden?” the second security guard asked politely as he came in behind us and shut the door, drawing the blinds.

“I told him to fuck off,” I replied, immediately suspicious. The second security guard smiled and shook his head.

“And why’d you do that?” he asked.

“He told me to put out my cigarette,” I replied. Patrick was talking to the first security guard. Patrick was also letting him go through his backpack.

“Do you have any cigarettes on you now?” the second security guard asked.

“Nope,” I replied as I took a look around the office.

There were photos on the wall of all the security guards. I found my interrogator’s photo and looked at the placard on his photo. Mike Thompson.

“Right then. Let’s save ourselves some trouble here, Mr. Raines,” he started. That was about when I found my mug shot on the wall. I stared at it and scowled. Mike Thompson saw what I was looking at and started laughing.

“Boy, Mrs. Windleton sure was ticked at you when she brought that in to us,” he remarked.

“Yeah, I know. I skipped her class and she didn’t like it,” I replied.

“So is that why I ended up sitting on you?” Mike asked.

“Well duh,” I remarked sarcastically.

Mike sighed and stopped smiling. “Alright kid, let’s just get this over with. I can see you don’t want to be friendly so I’ll explain the rules very quickly. First, all we need to go through your belongings and search you is reasonable suspicion. Two, we don’t need a search warrant. Three, we can search any vehicles on our grounds, as long as we have reasonable suspicion. Four, if we have to we’ll call Elizabeth and you know she’ll give us permission. So why don’t you save us the trouble and just open your backpack, and empty out your pockets.”

I was debating how big of a deal I wanted this to turn into, but in the end I decided it wasn’t worth it. It was my birthday, and it wasn’t going to go away any faster if I just sat here and argued over every little thing.

“Micah, they won’t find anything, so just let them…” Patrick was saying.

I stood up, unzipped my backpack and dumped everything on the floor. “Help yourself,” I remarked as I started emptying out my pockets.

Mike sighed but didn’t say anything. He went through the stuff from my pockets first, including my wallet. My driver’s license was the last thing he picked up. He studied it carefully.

“For someone’s birthday, you sure are in a bad mood, huh?” he asked.

I ignored the question.

“You got your license?” Patrick whispered. I nodded at him. “Congrats,” he whispered back, giving me a cheerful grin. I couldn’t help it. I gave him a small smile back. He held out his hand when Mike gave me my driver’s license and wallet. I must not have been moving fast enough because Patrick finally leaned over and grabbed hold of my license, tugged slightly until I finally let him have it. He studied my license carefully, as if needing to see it to believe it.

“I failed my license exam three times before I finally passed,” he remarked.

“What happened, did you drive on the wrong side of the road?” I asked, unable to help myself.

He looked up and his cheeks turned red. “Uh…yeah,” he finally muttered. That got a laugh from me, and the security guards.

“It’s not my fault you’re all backward here,” he muttered defensively. I felt myself relax in his embarrassment and gave him a smile that I meant this time.

“We’re not backward,” I informed him, “You are.”

He shook his head, opened his mouth to say something.

“We’re done here. I just need to search your car and you can be on your way,” the first security guard said next.

“No,” Patrick replied immediately, surprising me.

“Excuse me son, didn’t you hear-”

“I heard what the other security guard said. Now I’m telling you, no. My car isn’t on school property, so you will not search it.”

The first guard looked surprised by this. “Aren’t you a junior?” he asked.

Patrick shook his head. “Nope, I’m a sophomore, which you’d know if you had looked at this silly little badge you make us wear all the time,” he replied, pointing to the badge hanging on his neck that showed he was a student here. It was the same design as mine, a cougar in the background with orange and black coloring. It had our grade, our picture, our birth-dates, which I’d forgotten about, and our student ID numbers on it.

“Right,” the guard replied immediately, as if he’d overlooked that small detail. “You’re what, seventeen?” the guard asked.

Patrick nodded, “Just turned 17 a while ago.”

“Alright, we’re done here,” Mike said. He handed me my backpack. He’d been nice enough to put everything back in it for me, too. “Where are you two going? I’ll give you a hall pass.”

Patrick told him. Mike looked at me. “Same,” I replied. Swim class.

“You’re seventeen?” I whispered at Patrick, wanting to know now why he was a sophomore.

“Yup. Got held back when I was little. Like I said, you’re all backward here. Plus I was waiting for Reese. He ended up skipping a couple of grades, so now we’re finally in the same grade,” he replied. Oh. I didn’t even know what to say to that, just tried to not be annoyed with the fact that Patrick was older than me.

“Hey kid,” Mike hollered before I could leave the office. I looked back over my shoulder. “You’re supposed to have a good day on your birthday,” he informed me, “so relax and have fun, will you?”

I didn’t respond, just followed Patrick as he led the way out of the security office, my hall pass clutched in my hand.

We stopped at his locker first and we were headed toward mine when he stopped me before we could get to the corner leading to mine. “Hey, wait here a moment, will you?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Just wait here,” he said, a slight smile tugging at his lips. I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I sighed.

He peaked around the corner and I watched as his back stiffened.

“Hey, leave him alone,” he shouted, than disappeared. That’s when I heard it, someone being pushed into a locker.

I was moving around the corner. Reese was on the ground, picking something up with Patrick next to him as a group of teenage boys disappeared around the corner. I stopped next to Patrick and Reese.

“What’s going on?” I asked quietly, shaking my head. Balloons that looked like they had been popped were lying on the ground surrounding my locker, along with a torn up poster board.

I looked at Reese; saw that his face was red. He looked like he was about to cry.

“Uh… It’s nothing,” Reese muttered as he stood up. “Hey…Happy Birthday…Uhm, I have to get to class.”

Then he was gone, disappearing into the bathroom at the end of the hall. I started to follow him, but Patrick stopped me. “Let me,” he murmured. I could only nod.

I guess I wasn’t the only one having a bad day. I threw my stuff into my locker, picked up the now defunct balloons and cardboard poster that had been torn in two. Holding the two pieces together I could see “Happy Birthday, Micah” clearly displayed, with artful glitter and other decorations carefully drawn onto it.

Someone had obviously put a lot of work into it. I put that in my locker and shut the door, leaned my head against it, resigned. The one day a year that I dreaded and usually tried to pretend didn’t exist wasn’t going to go away, at all. I sighed, wondering how much worse it was possibly going to get before I could things could go back to being normal. Well, as normal as they usually were around here, anyways.

I went to swim class, alone. Patrick didn’t make it to that class, but he was there in my next class. I didn’t ask about Reese. Just planted my head on my desk and handed the homework in to my teacher when she asked for it. She left me alone the rest of the period, for which I was grateful. I was too busy catching up on sorely needed sleep. Patrick would give me the notes for the class when I asked for them.

---

“Where is he?” someone asked.

I peered over the balcony into the auditorium. I could see Ben, Stacie, Lissa, Tommie and Paul down there, along with Patrick and the rest of Reese’s band. No Reese. He hadn’t shown up yet.

I hadn’t either. I was trying to figure out how to get out of school. The day had gotten worse, to the point that I didn’t even want to be there. My lack of sleep was keeping me from concentrating in my classes and I had snapped at some kid from student council to “shut the hell up and die” when he’d come by one of my classes, representing the school by wishing me a happy birthday.

I’d gotten plenty of strange looks from the class at that. The teacher had even sent me out of class, Patrick giving me worried looks. Who the hell ever heard of a school doing that, anyway? Seriously, couldn’t people mind their own business? I sighed and leaned my head back on the chair I was sitting in at the very back row of the balcony, where I couldn’t be seen.

I was determined to sleep through the rest of the day if I couldn’t skip it.

“It’s your fault! So stop it! Just stop it!”

The crying wouldn’t stop. Grabbed him, shook him, shook him harder! “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Just shut up!”

“Micah!” someone was shaking me. My eyes snapped open and I stood up, sweating.

“Jeez, are you okay?” she asked. I focused on Elizabeth.

“Yeah,” I croaked. My mouth was dry. She stood up and felt my forehead. I stepped away and closed my eyes, breathed deeply.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled. She looked me over. I ignored her and looked down at the stage. Reese’s band was putting their instruments away. It looked like they had gotten some practice in, even if I hadn’t shown up.

“Did Reese show up?” I asked.

“No,” Elizabeth said. She too glanced down at the stage, a frown marring her face.

I grabbed my backpack and positioned it over my shoulder. “I’m gonna be late to class,” I informed her. She looked like she was ready to follow me to make sure I got there. It was her class I had next, I remembered. My head hurt.

I tried to smile at her, succeeded somewhat. “I’ll be there, Elizabeth. You don’t have to follow me,” I told her. Couldn’t keep the crabbiness out of my voice.

She looked at me thoughtfully. “Okay,” she finally said.

“I’ll see you in there,” I said, “Just need to use the restroom really quick.” She nodded once more. I let out a breath of relief and walked away as the final bell rang, letting me know I was already late to her class.

I wasn’t the only one either. Patrick was standing in the hallway outside one of the bathrooms on that floor talking to some chick, and since I was busy avoiding him and people in general, I hid around the corner.

“Are you sure, Renee?” I heard him asking. “I mean, what if--”

Whatever he was saying, she cut him off. I decided I didn’t like her. “Listen, damn it. I’m sure. Whether you like it or not, you are going to help me with this. Face it, Patrick, you’re going…”

I sighed and moved further down the hallway toward the bathroom on the other side of the building, tuning out their conversation. It would just be too rude to intrude on their conversation, and today I was getting a personal lesson in wanting my privacy respected.

I ended up stopping at my locker as I was going past it to tear down the new array of balloons and the poster board decorating it before I made it to the bathroom.

That didn’t stop me from still going to the bathroom, though, where I once more heard someone crying. My privacy issues had me ignoring it. My curiosity had me climbing onto the top of the toilet next to this person’s stall and peering into it. I felt kind of creepy and almost apologized to Reese when I saw him sitting on top of his toilet, wiping at his eyes. His hair was drenched, and I could tell part of his shirt had been torn.

My head started pounding even more. I didn’t feel like dealing with whatever he was going through. Decided it was puberty. I quietly left the bathroom altogether and headed toward my locker. I was going to leave, everyone else be damned.

“Micah, you okay?” Patrick asked. I sighed.

“No,” I snapped, reigned in my temper and let out another sigh. “I have a headache,” I whispered. It was the only way to keep myself from screaming.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick mumbled. I looked at him, he wasn’t looking at me. I reached into my locker, grabbed the birthday posters that had been put on my locker through the day and stuffed them into my backpack.

“Hey, Elizabeth’s taking Reese and Ben and the girls’ home right after school; she’ll be stopping to get Joel on her way. You want to get out of here after school?” he asked.

I fingered Ken’s debit card where I had placed it in my locker and breathed. It wasn’t Patrick’s fault I was having a shitty day.

“Okay…” I mumbled, looked at Patrick. “I have to go shopping after school,” I informed him.

“Shopping?” he asked, looking intrigued.

I nodded, “Yeah, for food. Otherwise we’re all going to end up starving to death,” I informed him. He shuddered. I couldn’t blame him. I think he ate more than the rest of us did when he was over.

“Okay, I’ll take you,” he replied.

I nodded. Let out another sigh. “Hey, we’re late to Elizabeth’s class,” I said.

He nodded. “I’ll walk with you,” he said.

I shook my head at him. “I can make it but…” I frowned.

“But what?” he asked.

“Reese is in the bathroom crying. Could you go…?”

Patrick looked grim when he gave me a nod. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll see you in class. If Elizabeth…”

“I’ll take care of Elizabeth,” I mumbled.

We parted ways at my locker. I went to class; Patrick went to take care of Reese.

I was fifteen minutes late to class; Elizabeth didn’t say anything to me about being late when I finally sat down. Just looked at the seat Reese was supposed to be sitting in when she stopped practice five minutes later. “He should be coming shortly. Something he ate at lunch wasn’t sitting well with him; Patrick either,” I informed her, just as Patrick and Reese finally got onto the stage.

“Sorry Mom,” Reese mumbled; his eyes looked slightly puffy, but he tried putting a smile on his face. He was wearing Patrick’s hoodie over his torn shirt.

“It’s okay. I keep saying this school has terrible lunches,” Elizabeth replied. “Come to think of it, there was this one time when I had the fish sandwich…”

Thank god for Ben. “No!” He stood up, shouting over Elizabeth. She fell quiet, startled. “No, seriously, I don’t want to hear about the runs, throwing up, snot, vomit, boogers, nothing. No way no how wham bam thank you ma’am,” Ben snapped his fingers. I wasn’t sure how he managed it, looking as green as he did. “Besides, I keep telling you guys to stick with the meat sandwiches—”

“Not everyone likes meat as much as you do,” someone muttered.

It was an innocent comment made by some girl that swore to anyone who would listen that slaughtering animals for food was a crime. It was still terrible. The worst thing anyone could possibly say in that situation.

Reese burst into laughter, followed by several others in the class. Even I managed a small smile.

Elizabeth rapped her baton on the music stand, calling for our attention. Despite the sudden disruption of her class she too was smiling.

“Okay okay,” she said once we all settled down, “let’s take it from the top.”

The class didn’t fly by fast enough, but when the final bell rang I was a bit calmer; still ready to get out of there. “I’ll see you at your car,” I told Patrick as I put my guitar away. Only he had everything he needed, I guess, because he walked out with me.

He looked like he was thinking about something. I stayed quiet. The silence was a blessing, as far as I was concerned.

We came to a stop when we got to where his car was supposed to be, because it was gone.

“Who the bloody hell would steal my car?” Patrick asked. I could understand the confusion. His car wasn’t that great. I’d have probably given him twenty bucks for it, if I’d been desperate.

“Missing something, boys?” A smug voice asked from behind us.

We both turned and saw Mr. Warren standing there, his smug voice matched equally by the look on his face. Mike Thompson and a different security guard from this morning were standing next to him.

“What the bloody hell did you do with my car?” Patrick asked, quietly.

“Oh…that junker? I’m sorry, I thought it was a nuisance and safety issue so I had it towed, seeing as how it was sitting here like an eye…”

I was seeing red. I was shaking. This was the last thing I had expected today. “This piece of shit ass-hole had your car towed,” I muttered as I dropped my backpack. Mr. Warren shut up and stared at me.

“You know…I’ve been having a really shitty day,” I informed Mr. Warren as I unzipped my hoodie and let it drop on top of my backpack. “All I really wanted was to be left alone, but no. You had to bother me, which is cool. I probably deserved it, after telling you to fuck off this morning. But then, you probably should have minded your own damn business, seeing as I wasn’t on school property. You had two ass-wipes go through my shit, that’s cool too. I’m not even bothered by that anymore. But do you know what really pisses me off, you scrawny little weasel?” I asked.

Mr. Warren wasn’t looking amused as I rolled up my long-sleeve shirt. “No, you little punk, I don’t, so why don’t you tell me.”

“I’ve been looking forward to getting out of that hellhole that usually isn’t so bad all goddamn day, and now I’m stuck here…” I looked at Patrick. He was staring at me, looking extremely startled. “We’re not on school property, are we?” I asked him. He shook his head, opened his mouth to say something.

“Good, because I’m going to kick this fucker’s ass,” I muttered just before I charged Mr. Warren. I had the pleasure to see his eyes widen in surprise at my outrageous declaration. I think I was a little surprised too, considering I didn’t usually run around hitting adults; but I had had it with the entire day. As far as I was concerned, the ass deserved it, all because he’d been stupid enough to go picking a fight with me; today of all days.

Mike was getting in front of Mr. Warren as Mr. Warren backed up. I spun around him, continued my charge. My fist was about to connect when someone else slammed into me and knocked me off balance. It was the other security guard. I’d forgotten about him. I was about to kick him in the nuts when Patrick was on top of me, pushing me back.

“No Micah!” he shouted. I pulled back, glared at him.

“You all saw it, he tried to attack me! That’s grounds for expulsion right there,” Mr. Warren was shouting, waving his arms around as he jumped up and down excitedly.

“I saw no such thing,” Mike Thompson suddenly said.

Mr. Warren fell quiet, looking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What?” he growled. He sounded like a rat.

“I said I saw no such thing,” Mike repeated.

“You better think about…”

“I did however see you harassing these boys; subject them to unreasonable searches…” Mike interrupted, “and I’ll tell that to whoever comes asking, if you continue that statement. Hell, I might even have to turn you into the superintendent. What do you think Stan?” he asked.

The other guard didn’t look too happy at being forced into a situation he obviously didn’t like. I held my breath. It was a solid three minutes, at least, before he nodded his head. “Yeah, I think I saw that too,” he finally replied.

Mr. Warren growled, turned and stomped off.

Mike was shaking his head. “Boy, you could have cost me my job,” he muttered.

Patrick nudged me in the side. “Thanks,” he said, as he nudged me again.

“Yeah, thanks,” I finally mumbled. I still wanted to hit someone.

Mike was still shaking his head. “Don’t thank me. Thank Elizabeth for being the good friend that she is. Her husband too. You might even want to thank Mr. Warren for being the asshole that he is. Swear that man has pissed off more people than…” Mike shut up. “Nevermind, just you let us worry about him. Your car was towed by The Silverdale Towing company. It’s just a few blocks from here. I’ll give you a ride if you want,” Mike offered.

Patrick was shaking his head. “Thanks, but…I think Micah needs to take a walk,” he said.

Mike nodded. “Sorry ‘bout your birthday, son.”

I almost told Mike I wasn’t his son, but…I just shook my head. “Yeah, me too,” I finally muttered.

Patrick handed me my hoodie and my backpack. I trailed behind him as he started walking south, until finally he slowed down enough for me to catch up.

“I think you just made life ten times harder than it needed to be,” he remarked suddenly. I frowned. “I mean…charging the principal like that. What the bloody hell were you thinking? Oh hell, don’t answer that, I know you weren’t.”

I sighed. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Patrick shook his head. “Was bound to happen sooner or later, I think,” he replied.

I didn’t ask what he meant by that, just continued to walk with him, looking at the ground.

Patrick sighed. “The guy’s an ass, Micah. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I mean it, too. Elizabeth warned Reese about him once in front of me. The guy is a total control freak; he hates anything that isn’t perceived as being normal; hates anything he perceives as being to sissy-ish. He loves anything and everything having to do with the football team; and considering…” Patrick stopped talking. I looked up and cocked my head at him.

“Considering what?” I asked, prompting him to continue his statement.

He just shook his head. “I think you’re having a shitty day as it is. It’ll get better, though” he said.

I smiled at him, because he sounded so confident with that last statement. “You really think so?” I asked.

“Yup,” he replied, just as confident. “Besides, I just don’t see how it could possibly get any worse.”

A hundred and seventy five dollars was making things worse.

I stared at the attendant on duty at the tow-shop in disbelief. “A hundred and what!” Patrick squeaked, looking outraged.

“Yup. That’s towing fees, plus impound and processing fees. Anyone not authorized to be parked in the school lot has…”

“But I wasn’t parked in the bloody school lot,” Patrick interrupted.

“Sorry kid. its a hundred and seventy-five bucks if you want your car back,” the attendant replied, “if you don’t got it then go away.”

Patrick groaned. I handed over Ken’s debit card. “Here.”

“What? No Micah, you can’t…”

“It’s my fault, so don’t argue with me,” I interrupted. “Besides, once we have your car back everything will be better, right?” I asked.

Patrick smiled faintly, but nodded. “Yeah,” he said.

“Sorry kid, cash only. ATM is over there,” the man said, pointing to a machine at the corner of the building. He handed Ken's debit card back to me. I sighed, but pulled the cash out anyway.

“So, we have your car back,” I said as the man handed me a receipt and gave Patrick his paperwork. “Let’s go grocery shopping."

---

“Too healthy for you,” Patrick muttered as I tossed a bag of apples into the cart.

I was quickly learning that going grocery shopping with Patrick meant buying junk food, and lots of it. As far as he was concerned we all should have been able to live off frozen pizza, burritos, crème pies, and potato chips.

“You’ll eat it anyway,” I remarked playfully as I eyed the cart carefully and pulled out a bag of pork-rinds. “Blech,” I muttered as Patrick groaned. He’d been busted again and he knew it. I put the bag on the watermelon stand with a shudder and walked next to him as he pushed the cart down the produce section.

“Don’t you buy anything fun?” he asked.

I looked at all the soda he’d loaded into the cart. There was enough to fill the whole bottom space. Ken wasn’t going to be happy about the grocery bill. “Yup, all the soda you wanted,” I replied.

“That doesn’t count, you need it to survive,” he informed me.

I shook my head and laughed at him. Grocery shopping with Patrick was fun. Who would have known.

“Joel and I didn’t get much soda growing up,” I told him. He looked at me, clearly interested. I could understand why. I rarely talked about Life before the Windleton’s with him, or anyone else, for that matter. I smiled at him, despite that fact. “It was usually water or juice, when we could afford it.” I looked away, eyed the cantaloupe stand. “You know I worked in construction during summers, after school, and on weekends?” I asked.

Patrick nodded.

“I only got in on that job ‘cause I tried stealing a car when I was around fourteen. Anyway, River caught me and said I had too much time on my hands if I was going to be running around with a bunch of wanna be gangsters,” I laughed suddenly at that, remembering.

“I think he was alive during the prohibition era,” I added. “Anyway, my dad had started working for him so he knew who I was, and Joel was with me at the time. He told me I needed to learn the value of hard work, so he put me and Joel to work. He’d always find small things for Joel to handle. I got to spend the first couple of months hauling wheelbarrows around after I filled them up with whatever waste needed to be tossed out.”

I looked at Patrick, his green eyes starting to glimmer with amusement. “There was a lot of cement. Anyway, it helped bring in money, because River paid me and Joel for the work we did, although it wasn’t much. It still helped, though, and when work slowed down during the winter, he made sure Dad had work to do so we wouldn’t starve. Sometimes he’d keep Dad busy just so he could get Joel and I and take us out to dinner. He’d give me extra money than, too, if he had any to spare.” I swallowed at the memory.

River had probably been the only thing that had been keeping Joel and me alive for so long, I realized. “He always tried to make sure Dad never knew about it. He even started making some of Dad’s paychecks out to me, just so he wouldn’t be able to spend it all down at the bar.”

I wiped at my eyes, “Damn dust,” I muttered.

Patrick just grinned at me and, to my surprise, pulled me into a hug. He didn’t say anything about the fact that I was crying a little bit, though.

I appreciated that. Still, hugging him in the middle of the supermarket wasn’t my ideal spot for a public display of affection. “C’mon,” I slugged him slightly in the shoulder, “you’re getting all mushy on me,” I muttered. He laughed at me for that. “Let’s go pay for this crap.”

“Can we get Doritos?” he asked. I rolled my eyes at him, “Fine…”

He let out a loud cheer in the middle of the store that embarrassed the hell out of me; I still ended up laughing at him as I followed him back toward the chips aisle, and after arguing about what kind of Doritos to get for five minutes I grabbed both bags out of his hands and plopped them in the cart.

I had paid for everything and was putting the groceries in Patrick’s car when his phone went off. I took a moment to check my cell phone and noted that it was almost five. I shook my head in disbelief and tapped my cell phone, unable to believe that I’d spent an hour and a half in the store with Patrick, but it was okay.

Because my mood was definitely lighter. I pushed the grocery cart into the parking lot stable and waved at the lady who had followed us out of the store, probably to stop me from taking off with another grocery cart again. I didn’t mind though. I just grinned and waved at her. She shook her head and smiled at me before going back into the store.

I was standing outside Patrick’s car, waiting for him to come back from the spot he had wondered off too to have his conversation, probably for privacy when he finally hung up his phone and looked at it, and then me.

He looked really serious. I cocked my head at him. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

He looked at his phone, and then back at me. “Micah…”

I frowned. I didn’t like the tone of his voice. It sounded like someone had just died. He stopped talking and inhaled, exhaled. It still didn’t stop the frown that marred his features. I had to wonder if something had happened to Joel, or Reese. Because as far as I knew Elizabeth had picked them up and taken them home after school.

“What is it? Did something happen to Joel or Reese?” I asked.

“It’s your Dad…”

I glanced around the parking lot, as if I was going to see him any moment. It took me a second to realize I was looking for the wrong person before I scanned the parking lot all over again, actually looking for my dad this time. I still didn’t see him.

“…he’s at the Windleton’s…” Patrick muttered.