Keefe woke with a start.
He scrambled off the park bench, mentally slapping himself. How could he have been so careless? It had been a bad idea to fall asleep in the park. He had meant to find a more secluded area, like under a bridge or in an alley.
The time was about five-thirty in the morning, so he had slept for a solid nine hours. He could tell because there was a huge clock mounted on one wall of the covered shelter at the center of the park.
Keefe glanced up at the sky; it was pitch-black with no stars in sight. To his surprise, the city still felt and sounded alive―a few people were out and about, cars rumbled, and emotions were scattered around the place. Keefe especially felt haste and restlessness from the humans around him.
He checked his backpack to make sure nothing had been stolen while he was asleep―and thank Glitterbutt, nothing had. His meager possessions still included just his notebooks, art supplies, pathfinder, Imparter, and Mrs. Stinkbottom.
Which was probably more than he deserved.
Suddenly, Keefe's stomach growled audibly, and he realized how long it had been since he had last eaten―almost an entire day. This is gonna be a problem, he thought. How was he going to get food? Begging? Stealing? It's not like he had any money. Why didn't I think this through?
Keefe decided that he needed to get up and do something, so he rose up off the bench and started a walk around Washington Park. If he went the long way, he figured he could get about a half-hour of peaceful strolling in―well, 'peaceful' meaning 'freaking out about how he was going to survive in this place'. Yep. Fun.
Along the way, Keefe was able to get a better observation of the park as a whole; he hadn't at first noticed the kids' playground (which was empty), and the various gardens and smaller plazas.
His stomach rumbled again, and he shushed it aloud. Wow. I really am going crazy, talking to my own stomach, Keefe thought.
He walked the rest of the way around the park feeling very agitated.
* * *
Keefe couldn't see the tip of the sun emerging from the horizon―there were too many tall buildings in the way―but he could see the colors streaking from it through the newly clear sky. The main building covering up the sunrise was a beauty, with its spires and huge arched windows and brown-orange brick. Wider than it was tall, the grand structure proudly displayed a great circular window, like it was centered in the middle and then thrusted up four stories.
He had walked all the main sidewalks in the park, then doubled back and taken the more twisted routes again, stretching out the stroll to an hour. There were humans out for their early-morning runs, or to watch the sunrise.
One was passing Keefe now―he could feel the runner's contentment and breathlessness. Feeling unexpectedly brave, he opened his mouth to speak, and the words slid effortlessly to English.
"Um. Excuse me?"
The runner slowed to a stop and took out his earbud. Keefe noticed his chocolate-brown eyes―other than Foster's, Keefe didn't see a lot of non-blue eyes. It startled him for a second.
"What's that...huge cool-looking building right there?" Keefe pointed to the majestic structure on Elm Street.
The human chuckled. "Cool-looking indeed. You must be new to Cincinnati, that's Music Hall―it's for performances like ballets and orchestras,"
Keefe nodded. "Thank you."
Smiling, the runner was off again.
Keefe sat down on the edge of the nearest fountain in shock. He had just talked to a human! And the human was helpful!
He took out his pencils and brown notebook, needing to keep his hands busy, and Keefe began sketching the outline of Music Hall.
* * *
Maybe I can ask another human where to get food? But what will I tell them... I ran away from my family? I was kicked out of the house? Hmmm...I don't know, I'm just really hungry. Am I overthinking this? Be quiet, stomach! Food...
Keefe had been doing a lot of thinking. He resolved that he could ask a human if they had any food, now that he had gotten over his sort-of-fear of talking to them.
He was musing about eating a nice big plate of butterblasts when all of the sudden there was a voice in his head.
KEEFE!
His pencil clattered to the ground.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
It was Foster.
What was he supposed to do?
He never thought about this. Of course she would try to contact him - she had probably been transmitting for a while.
Keefe swallowed.
Foster?
KEEFE! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I'VE BEEN WORRYING ABOUT YOU―HOW COULD YOU RUN AWAY AGAIN―WHERE ARE YOU?―are you okay?
Well, I appreciate the concern, but―
Keefe, be serious.
He could just imagine her forehead crinkle at the moment. I'm, uh, fine, I guess―kinda hungry, but y'know, livin' the life...
Sophie was probably trying to figure out a way to mentally smack him. Where are you? She transmitted.
Keefe sighed. Sorry, Foster, I can't tell you that.
Well, if you're going to be so secretive, Sophie replied, at least listen to me right now.
Here comes the rant, Keefe thought with a gulp.
I HEARD THAT!
He smiled sheepishly, though Foster couldn't see him. Okay, bring it on. Keefe hoped his mental voice carried the false confidence and laughter he meant to put into the words.
Stop making me smile! I'm supposed to be mad at you. Anyway. What if the Neverseen ends up kidnapping you for leverage, to use you as a bargaining chip or something? Nothing good can come out this. If your mom can make you use your new abilities, wouldn't it be better if you could control them? You can't just run away from all your problems!
That last one struck a nerve.
Sophie rushed to apologize. Keefe, I didn't mean that―
You're good. Sweet little Foster, always the voice of reason. But Keefe had to admit he hadn't thought of any of the things she mentioned. Well, he just had to make sure the Neverseen didn't find him.
Keefe realized he should probably continue his drawing. He was looking pretty suspicious, sitting on the edge of a fountain staring and occasionally making weird faces as he listened to Sophie talk.
Come back―being gone is only going to cause problems! She continued. Keefe was starting to feel guilty and homesick, so he deflected the feelings with humor, as he often did.
You just miss The Hair.
I do, Keefe! I miss you! I miss you!
Wow. This was not going well.
I can't come back, Foster.
They went on like that for a few minutes, and she seemed to realize how determined he was to be stubborn about this.
I can't. Come. Back. Ever. Sophie, please understand this!
I don't understand, but I'm gonna leave you alone for now. Keefe, I'll keep trying to get you to come back.
And she cut their mental connection.
A/N: Yay, another chappie from Keefe's pov! These require some research, but it's so fun writing our favorite Hunkyhair in a real city.
Question: What's your favorite place to be? It can be absolutely anywhere, as specific as you please.
It would mean a lot if y'all could hit that little star in the corner (and thx to everyone who has already been voting)! Also, I LOVE reading comments. Spam is totally okay. <-- I'm gonna regret saying that, aren't I.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm probably gonna come back and edit it later, it's not my best work.
Word Count: 1,188
Updated 8/5/21