Diary of a Random, Cute, Fiesty, (Possibly ADHD) Chick-a-dee

Imagination

And of course we get caught after being in the house for two minutes. And I'm sure I'm cutting off Adam's circulation from my grip on his hand.

Mrs. Garden.

She stood in front of us wearing only a pink robe, God knows what was under said pink robe, and orangey-red fluffy slippers. I can tell she's as shell-shocked as us because her mouth is agape and she repeats Adam's name in disbelief.

"Adam?"

See?

What I expected her to do was rush to the phone and call hundreds of thousands of police officers to haul us to jail where we'll only have one phone call and I'll probably be someone's bitch.

My eyes water as I try to devise a plan to beg Mrs. Garden to not call the cops.

"Mom."

Adam's back is stiff, his shoulders squared and he took half step in front of me, sort of in a protective stance. My heart soared.

Mrs. Garden's eyes snap down to meet mine and she slowly composes herself. I can tell she just got out of bed because, well, she has that "I just got out of bed" look. Messy hair, no make, bath robes. The usual.

"Ad...Adam," she chokes out his name this time, her young-looking face crumbling up. Adam got his eyes from her. "Oh my..." Tears are forming in the corner of her brown-green eyes.

She rushes over here and flings herself at Adam. Now she's full out crying. Sobbing. There's even snot. And...

Adam and I are still shocked.

.:.:.:.:.

"So...everything was planned?" Mrs. Garden croaked, her voice still thick with emotion. She was placing the red vintage-looking kettle on the stove. "Like...Adam hadn't taken you against your will?"

Adam had recited the story he told Gabe when he came to help us with the mess that is our hair now. My hair color was growing back, though now I just look like a red head with brown roots. All Adam had to do was cut whatever black hair he had left and he'll be back to normal. I sneered.

Mrs. Garden hummed and floated back to the dining table where we sat. She plopped down in the chair across from us.

"Yeah," Adam murmured sheepishly. "Ma...I'm sorry I hurt you, it's just Phoebe's father and all..."

"We love each other too much," I continued, intertwining our fingers together. I didn't meet Adam's eyes, though, just kept them trained on Mrs. Garden. Watching her expression.

Her face softened. "Your father can't know," she finally whispered, looking at Adam who I knew without a thought was still staring at me with shock on his face. "He...his angry right now and isn't the-"

"I know," Adam interrupted, his voice slightly cracked at the end. "We were planning on going on. I just wanted to get some clothes and such..."

"Where? Will I be able to contact you?"

Wow...didn't really expect...

And I think if Adam gets another surprise for the day, his mouth will stay stuck wide open.

"My mom," I answered for Adam. Mrs. Garden moved her attention to me. "She was the one to help Adam sneak out of California to get back here."

Mrs. Garden beamed. "Terrific. Now," she shifted in her seat, fidgeting with her fingers. "I'm-"

The tea kettle went off. Quickly Mrs. Garden ran to the steaming kettle to move it on the towel she sat on the counter. She grabbed three tea cups from one of the many cabinets and poured the steaming water in them. She scurried back, placing each cup in front of it's respectful owner and sitting the tea bags and sugar in the middle.

She giggled as I dropped the brown, filtered bag in my cup and watched the clear water turn a murky brown. "Earl Grey tea, it's my favorite."

"Mom, why aren't you at work?"

That was Adam. But you probably already knew that seeing as Mrs. Garden wasn't my mom.

"Oh," Mrs. Garden cleared her throat. Her grip tightened on the delicate tea cup. "I'm on vacation," she ducks her head, cutting off our access to her eyes. "Plus you're father was...worried."

"His at work right now," she continued, answering our unspoken question.

I nod and glance at Adam. This whole experience was so awkward. I wondered what it would have been like if Adam never kidnapped me and just simply asked me out. I probably would have met Mrs. Garden during a scheduled dinner and she would have insisted I called her Connie - not Mrs. Garden because that was her late mother-in-law and Constance was too formal. Mr. Garden probably would have attempted to charm me, winking at me and patting on Adam's shoulder in a "you did good" way.

And his sister? Janice?

Well, this was my fantasy dream, so why the hell not?

Janice would be sitting on the counter, chatting Mrs. Garden - excuse me, I mean, Connie's - and I ears off while we finished the cooking Connie beganed.

She would think of me as a sister and want to show off all her little dolls.

I looked away. Away from the Mrs. Garden who would never be Connie. Away from the Adam who would be forever damaged and tried to forget about the broken man that was Mr. Garden. The man that lost both his parents.

Because deep down I knew Adam and I would have to leave New Mexico. Forever. As Penelope and Darryl, the runaway, love-struck teenagers.

I wanted to weep, but I had no more tears.