Watch Your Temper

Chapter Twelve: Melted Skittles and Melted Hearts

        I fled from the room and into the small kitchen. My mom was sitting at the table reading a book and munching on some cookies.

"Where are you going, Temper? Don't forget that you're still healing from that sunburn!" she called after me, but I ignored her and kept running.

The long grass outside tickled my feet as I sprinted across the vast field. I fled toward the small forest, and almost tripped over a log.

"Hey!" a small voice squeaked. I looked down, and saw Ronnie, crouched up under a bush. "What the heck?" I said, a thousand frantic thoughts swirling around in my head. Why was he hiding? Shouldn't he be off playing with Jack?

"Let me guess. You got in trouble again," he deadpanned, standing up to his full height but still unable to reach my eye level. 

"What are you talking about, Ronald?" I asked carefully, as if talking to a crazy person.

"You know what I'm talking about. I heard that whole conversation in there on the phone. You were talking to a cop, probably."

Damn. My little brother was smarter than I gave him credit for.

"And what if I was? It's none of your business," I countered in defense. There was no way I needed a nine year-old to be bossing me around, especially when I was already aware of the figurative pile of shit I was in.

"Why do you always do this, Temper? Don't you see the pain you cause mom? And now that dad's back..." he trailed off, disregarding my question and conjuring a few of his own. 

"Don't even mention him. He's nobody to me," I said honestly.

Ronnie shrugged and turned around to look back into the depths of the forest.

"C'mon. I'll help you get away, but just this once."

He took hold of my hand, and together, we ran off into the dense shrubbery.

+++

        "Want some?"

I tore my eyes away from the deep sunset and turned to glance at Ronnie. In his hand was a pile of melted Skittles. 

"Uh, Ron? Where did you get those? How old are they?" I questioned him, shrivelling my nose up in disgust.

"I found them in my pocket yesterday. I think I bought them a few months ago," he explained. Carefully, I took one from his hand, just to make him happy. On the count of three, I swallowed the sticky candy, and plastered a fake smile on my face.

"Yum. Delicious," I lied through a grimace. It had no taste whatsoever; just a clumpy blob of overheated candy. We laughed and continued to eat the gross Skittles.

"I guess we can't run forever," Ronnie declared after a moment.

"I know. But wait..." I froze.

"Temper? What's wrong?"

"Weren't we supposed to go home today? Like back to New York?"

We launched up in unison and I bit my lip.

First of all, the police would probably be waiting for us back at the cottage. Second, my mom would be fuming, and I could imagine George on the verge of tears from all of the confusion. 

"Let's go," Ronnie exclaimed the obvious, and we started the long trek back to the Arbing's cottage.

+++

        "Perhaps we should camp out for the night... right here in the forest,"  I said nervously. Ronnie and I were hiding behind a tree on the Arbing's property, watching the police cars surrounding the area.