Jaded

[8] Cry Me a River

I have never hopped to my feet and bolted as fast I do now. I make a beeline for the treeline, so to say. There's a swarm of angry boys behind me almost instantly, but they'll never catch me. I've had a head start and unlike them, I'm not wearing flip flops.

Soon the frustrated yells grow faint as the distance between us grows. Once I can only hear the sound of my own feet slapping against the forest floor I slow down.

Great, I'm deep in the woods with a face full of ash. And Will knows someone broke in. If I keep going in this direction I know I'll eventually reach the road, so that solves one problem at least.

I trudge for almost an hour, ignoring the throbbing in my certainly bruised shoulders and the needle like stinging on my chin. At the side of the road I crumple into a heap. The wind is blowing on my face, which is good for the ash but not so much for the chin wound.

It takes ten minutes, but eventually I spot my good friend rusty cruising down the road. I yank open the door before Atty can come to a full stop at the side. Nope, I'm not even going to think about the fact that someone other than me is behind rusty's wheel. Can't go there right now.

There's probably an 'I told you so' in store for me so I close my eyes, bracing for impact. Instead, I hear laughter. So much laughter that I can feel the car shaking along with Atty.

"Are you laughing at my expense?"

He gasps for air before choking out, "which chimney did you crawl out of?"

"Hilarious."

Atty tilts his head, taking a good look at me. His laughs start picking up again but stop abruptly as he reaches forward and lightly taps my chin with his index finger. When I flinch, he frowns.

"We need to get the ash out of that now or it'll get infected. Where's the first aid kit?"

I snort. "You think I keep a first aid kit?"

He simply sighs and grabs the half-filled water bottle from the car floor of the back seat. With surprising care and precision, he dampens the edge of his sleeve and rubs my chin.

Holy hell that hurts so damn much. I bite my lip to keep from squealing, nails digging into my palm.

"So," Atty begins, "what in the hell took you so long to leave?"

"I uh, I had a bit of a moral dilemma."

His one eyebrow goes up in what I'm beginning to learn is a very Atty way, where the other brow wiggles a bit in the beginning then hardens.

Right, I should probably explain. "You see, I was about to leave but then I saw Will's favorite hat and I wanted to cut a hole in it but that's obviously wrong so I couldn't decide and that's what took me so long."

Atty remains silent for a bit, his mouth opening and closing, as if he has conflicting responses and can't choose which one to give me. "Did you do it? Cut the hole, I mean."

"Nah, I kept picturing my mom's flaring nostrils and I couldn't do it. I pushed the hat off the table instead."

"Ah, so badass."

I shake my head, grinning despite myself. He flashes me a smile before pulling back onto the road. I can't wait to get back, crawl under the covers and eat Doritos then complain about crumbs in my scalp the next day.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and when I check it, I see a text from Will. Uh oh.

'try shit like that again and I'll make billboards of you.'

My breath is trapped in my throat, all I can picture is my father's face as he looks up to see a billboard of my pictures. The ache in my chest settles so deeply, I claw at my chest, trying to pull it out. There's an ugly hollowness that comes with defeat and it's called misery.

"You okay?"

I think I nod, but I can't be sure.

Atty takes a left then a right, even though our route should be straight for the next few miles. He maneuvers rusty around an intricate bend of statues and bicycle racks, expertly sliding into a parking spot in front of a restaurant.

I follow him, taking each step automatically. He leads me to a tiny booth near the back with peeling leather upholstery and disappears to the front counter. Atty reappears a few minutes later with two plates of steaming pizza.

My heart skips a beat when I spot the tufts of broccoli on the slices in front of me. They're from a more peaceful time, when I was little and mom made the best pizza in the world with mandatory veggies.

I've eliminated two of my slices before Atty can even make a dent in his.

In the softest voice I've ever heard, he gently whispers, "it's okay to cry you know."

I hadn't even noticed the tears building up. "I don't want to get my pizza wet." I'm deflecting, I know. But I can't cry in front of him, I can't give anyone any leverage anymore.

He leans across the table, the features of his face pulled tight. "When my parents passed, I used to cry all the time."

This catches me completely off guard. "Your parents...?"

Atty nods. "It was a car crash, almost 13 years ago. Point is, if the reason is right, sometimes you have to cry to get it out of your system."

"You smoke?" With a question this random and stupid, I'm not even trying to be discrete about changing the subject. Like I said, I'm no ninja.

"Used to. I was 14 and in high school. It didn't last long." Many dimensions indeed.

"Look," he begins, shifting in his side of the booth. "You make terrible decisions but you're not an idiot."

"Thanks?" I really hope that's not his idea of a compliment.

"What I mean is, you're rash and impulsive but not without reason."

Ah, so that's it. "You want to know why I broke in," I state.

Atty sets his slice down, focusing all his attention on me. I avoid his piercing gaze, choosing instead to focus on the diner with its vinyl adorned walls and rattling ceiling fans. I closely examine the stout woman behind the counter, noting her pearl earring and receding hairline. Anything to avoid Atty's scrutiny.

When I can't stand it anymore, I groan. "Why does it matter? Why do you even want to know?"

"Because," his voice is full and grounded. "If it causes something like this," he reaches across the narrow table to stroke my cheek with his thumb, wiping away a stray teardrop, "I want to help."

The sinking in my chest stops for moment, replaced instead by warmth and a fleeting sense of nostalgia. "That's a nice sentiment Atty. But there's nothing you can do, it's out of your hands. I really appreciate it though, thank you."

Suddenly, a thought strikes me. "Wait, is this pity pizza?" I ask. Not that I wouldn't eat it if it was, but I'd like to know.

He chuckles, his big green eyes lighting up. "No, it's victory pizza. We're celebrating."

I try to emulate his signature eyebrow raise and probably fail badly judging by his chuckle turning into full blown laughter.

"What're we celebrating?"

"My first heist," he exclaims as he holds his pizza slice out for a toast.

What I did in the cabin was absolutely not a heist in any way shape or form, let alone Atty's minuscule participation in it. But he looks so devastatingly adorable that I cant help but toast to the 'heist'.

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Sorry the chapter is a bit late guys! i'm hoping to double post this week so we'll see how that goes :)

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, as well as your opinions on Jade and Atty, I'd love to hear them !

Chp pic: similar to how the wall of vinyl records in the restaurant looks :D