Rules of a Rebel

Chapter 41: Isolation

"How many dogs did they find?" 

Peter and Leo share another grim look. "We don't know that yet." 

"And - and Harper?" 

A sigh. "Don't know that either." 

 - () - 

"I'm sorry to hear that, Peyton," Dr. Robinson's says. 

"Me too," I pick at the loose threads of my shirt. "It's disturbing. I know dog fighting is still a thing in the US, but I never really - I don't know - thought about it much." 

"Most people don't. It's understandable to not want to think about things that make us feel upset or hurt." 

I nod.

"Alright," Dr. Robinson settles back on her chair. It squeaks as she moves. "So have you finished the homework I told you to do last time? Did you try something new that you've never experienced before?" 

"Yeah," I clear my throat. "I kissed Archer." 

"You did?" Even though I'm not looking at her, Dr. Robinson sounds surprised. "Wow, Peyton, I'm impressed. Taking the first step in a relationship is a brave thing to do." 

"I guess." 

Damn. This is embarrassing. I shouldn't have brought it up like that.

"How did Archer respond?" 

"Oh, you know," I snap off one of the threads. "I think he took it pretty well."

"Excellent, so are you glad you did it?" 

"Yeah, I am." 

"Would you do it again?" 

"What? Kiss him?" Startled, I look up. 

Dr. Robinson is watching me, mildly amused. "A new experience, like the one we discussed in our homework." 

"Oh yeah," I clear my throat. "Yeah, I definitely do it again."

- () - 

After dinner, everybody is busy. Melody yells at the TV while watching Say Yes to the Dress, dad plays Pacman on his laptop and mom's reading a romance novel that Bettie suggested. None of them pay any attention to me as I sneak out the backyard. 

The night is gentler than the day. 

Instead of a furious wind, there's a soft breeze that brushes the hair off my shoulders. Inky black waves shift against the graying sand. The rope ladder sways from side to side when I reach it. I wait for a pause in the wind, then begin to climb. 

Archer is already inside the treehouse when I arrive.  

He sits at the corner, underneath one of the windows. With a flashlight perched on his shoulder, he's currently drawing the night landscape (with an additional sea serpent sticking out of the ocean) on the sketchpad he managed to sneak away from his parents. 

I settle against the doorway, where the light from the houses still reach us, and let one of my legs dangle in the air. 

Archer signs his signature in the corner of his drawing, then turns off the flashlight. The treehouse goes dark. I blink to get adjusted to this lack of light. I can't see Archer at all, so I move inside. The boards creak under my weight.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" I say, purposefully keeping my voice loud. Whispering feels too intimate. 

"Just a second."