Before December 31st
DANIEL
Through my smudged, dusty window pane, I see Cleo arrive. She wears a maroon beanie and a cream coloured scarf. The car that dropped her off leaves soon after she has gotten out.
I wasn't expecting her to come, not really. Not after my last encounter with her and how I've been ignoring her.
But I'm glad she is here.
I leave my room to pound down the stairs to the first floor, grabbing my jacket on the way out. There's no doubt it's freezing outside.
I used to love summer, but I feel ready to embrace this coming winter, the already icy temperature when I walk outside singing in tune to something cold and hard deep inside of me.
As I walk along the sidewalk to where Cleo's petite figure clad in winter wear stands, looking up at the building of flats with her back turned to face me, I make up my mind to approach quietly. She has always scared easily, and the urge to creep up on her and give her a fright the way I used to when we were little kids is inviolable.
Tiptoeing up to her, I hold my breath.
"Good evening!" I yell, grabbing her shoulders from behind.
She lets out a squeal, twirling around underneath my hands to face me, eyes big. When she sees who it is, she shoves me away. "Daniel, you dimwit!" she snaps, but it's so easy to tell that she doesn't mean it from the twinkle in her eye and the way she's trying not to giggle.
I find myself grinning, but force the childish smile to leave my lips when I do. For a second there I felt things were the way they used to be.
But that's dumb. It will never be the same and I shouldn't be allowing myself to be thinking like that. I let my hands fall away from her and I shove them into my pockets instead.
For what feels like an eternity, we stand looking at each other in the dim glow of a nearby streetlight, our breath clouding the space between us. I try to commit every detail of her face to memory, against my own will. I take in her features for the trillionth time in my life, but more slowly than I have before. Her thick, ebony lashes. Her almost heart shaped lips. Her button nose covered in little freckles. And the dark chestnut brown hair framing her pale face in waves.
Her eyes run over my face too, but not so much like she's observing, more like she's searching. Maybe she thinks there's still a little bit of the old me somewhere.
Too bad she'll be disappointed.
Cleo speaks up first, banishing the silence with her slightly husky voice. "So...why this? I mean, why did you want to see me?"
I think back to the other day when I almost ran over a little girl. "Because I needed someone to talk to."
She waits for me to go on, but I don't. She seems a bit anxious. I feel there's something else, too, an underlying sense of dread or distress. She's attacking her bottom lip with her teeth, something she would only do if something bad was going to happen when we were younger.
I tried so hard to forget Cleo, but apparently I still know her all too well.
"What's wrong?" I ask, breaking the second void of words between us.
"Nothing," she responds, far too quickly, as she absentmindedly tugs on a string of her hair. I don't feel the need to say anything else. I know her honesty will best her soon enough. "You're still able to tell when I..." she lets the rest of the sentence drift off.
I know what she means. Not that it's hard for one to see Cleo's emotions, but I am so familiar with the way she is that I can pick up even the most buried or hidden sentiments of hers.
All of this time, I've been holding on, I've been remembering. And I hate myself for it. It will only cause me more pain.
Even though the alarms in my head are telling me not to care, I'm unable stop my next words from leaving my mouth. "If you won't tell me what's bothering you, then I won't tell you why I wanted to see you." I fold my arms and cock my head, waiting expectantly for an explanation.
She narrows her eyes at me. "You are not going to succeed in blackmailing me, Daniel Hayden Farley. I'm older now, you know. Not that gullible anymore."
I give her a smoulder of a smile. "We'll see about that, Patty Cake."
Her small hands form fists by her sides at the much hated childhood nickname. I turn on my heel and start ambling away, hands in my pockets again.
"Wait," I hear her call out.
I smirk. I knew I'd win.
"Come back."
~ ~ ~
CLEO
He turns and walks back to me, nonchalance in his every step. As he gets closer, I can't help thinking how I love the way his hair is visibly irritating him. It's long enough to tease his eyes when he blinks, and such a light golden brown that it's almost blond. Now and then he jerks his head or runs his hand through his hair in a vain attempt to stop the curls from getting in the way of his vision.
He really needs to cut it. A smile plays out on my lips as a memory comes to me.
"Do you remember that day you wore a beanie to school in the middle of summer?" I ask Daniel.
He looks me up and down thoughtfully, as if deciding whether he wants to answer me or not. And then he does. "Who could forget the butt ugly haircut you gave me?"
The spark in his eye tells me he's missed teasing me. Well, I won't let him know that I've missed being teased.
"I'm so glad you gave up that dream of becoming a hairdresser," he adds, putting emphasis on the word so. "Think of how many people would be wearing beanies."
"Hey! You consented to it," I defend myself, "and you wouldn't stop fidgeting the whole time so it was mostly your fault anyways. But since I'm responsible and I own up to my mistakes, I'll offer my sincerest apologies and a voucher for a free haircut to make up for it."
He smiles a full on smile. Not a smirk, or a taunting grin, but a proper, real smile. "That's much too generous of you, Cleo, considering your incredible skill in the art of hair is much sought after. I regret, I cannot accept."
"Are you positively sure?" I give him a slow, sly smile. "It would be no problem. I could even do it now."
"No," he says hastily, feigning an expression of horror, "thank you."
I try not to laugh out loud. Somehow that would be a little too much like old times, and I'm not sure if either of us are ready for that yet. But I'm hoping against hope that we're getting closer to it.
I still have the photo we took of him the day of the haircut. It really was hideous, so I don't blame him if he isn't eager to be anywhere near me when I have a pair of scissors at hand. I stifle another chortle that threatens to escape me.
"Okay then." I pout and keep my eyes downcast as I drag my right foot in circles on the pavement, pretending to be offended and trying to prolong the light hearted mood.
No such luck. In two strides he's inches away from me. He uses his index finger to tip my chin up. I meet his questioning gaze, his face serious now. "What's up, Cleo?"
I know what he's talking about. I thought I had made him forget the question he asked earlier. Not so fast, apparently. I won't get away from him, so I guess I'll just have to answer him.
"It's about Emma," I say, keeping it vague.
His eyes soften. I wasn't supposed to, but when we were thirteen, I told him the whole story. He knows all about it.
Daniel opens his mouth to say something, but he never gets there, because another voice pierces the still night air with a yell. "You there!"
A man dressed in black from his boots to the cap on his head charges out from the shadows towards us and before I know it, he's grabbed Daniel and pulled him away from me. The badge on the man's shoulder and the instruments hanging from his belt give away his identity as a Stowe patrolman.
I wonder what Daniel has done now?
"What's going on?" I voice my thoughts, as Daniel scowls severely at the man and struggles to get away. But he's a big guy, and he's already cuffing Daniel's wrists.
"I'll have you know who you're keeping company with, young lady. A scoundrel bent on ruining the peaceful neighbourhoods of Stowe." The officer finishes securing Daniel's hands. "Stop fighting me, or else I might be convinced to use my taser. Your 'artwork' around town has not been appreciated, and finally I have tracked you down."
Oh great. The graffiti. I should have known. He was obviously going to leave his mark on other places in town other than my house.
"Officer..." I start.
"Scott Kirkpatrick," he supplies, in a gruff tone that warns he won't be taking no nonsense.
"Officer Kirkpatrick," I continue, "Please consider letting my friend go just for tonight. I will make sure he throws away his paints and never gives you cause to come looking for him again...ever." I cut my eyes at Daniel and he rolls his own in response.
"I'm sorry I can't do that, missy," Kirkpatrick almost growls, not sounding sorry at all. "He has done enough to convince my superiors and myself that a trip to the police station is what he needs."
I suck in a breath. No, although Daniel may deserve this, it's not what he needs. I already know things can't be good between him and his dad for him to have moved back to Stowe, and his mom might not be too impressed with him either after this. If I can just get him out of it somehow and then keep him away from more trouble after that, instead of letting him go with the police officer now, it will allow my mind to rest easier. Something tells me neither of those will be easy to do.
I try to think fast because Kirkpatrick is already attempting to tow Daniel, who is making it hard, away with him.
"Stop!" I shout.
The irritated patrolman stops and huffs at me. "Give me one good reason why, girlie."
Girlie? Yuck. But I have a bigger problem. Why should he stop?
"B-b-because." My words tremble. "It wasn't him," the white lie slips from my lips. I'm cringing inwardly and my insides are turning. I haven't lied in so long, and I'm already asking for forgiveness from God for what I'm about to say next. "I did it."
The police officer looks me square in the eye. "You did it?"
I nod, gulping silently. The dishonest statement I uttered is already twisting my conscience, but I need to do this for Daniel.
"Then explain to me, girlie," Kirkpatrick squints at me menacingly and gives Daniel a shake to keep him still. "why I was able to track this ruffian here down because of a witness' sketch. They were very adamant that it was a tall young man, not a girl."
The way he spits girl out of his mouth makes me mad.
Daniel has stayed silent throughout all of this, but now he gives me a what in the world are you doing kind of look. I need to come up with a good answer, and quick, or else there's no way I'll be believed. "I, um, he, he needed the money, so I paid him to do it."
Oh, well done, Cleo. You paid him to do it? Is that it? No, you are a really bad liar, is what.
Scott Kirkpatrick looks confused now. "You paid him to do it?" he frowns. "Well, I suppose that makes you an accomplice, although I've no idea what the point of paying someone to vandalize for you is. I guess both of you will being coming with me tonight, then."
He lunges forward and grabs my arm, his fingers digging deep into my flesh. I choke on any more words I was going to say to try and fix this. Daniel still hasn't talked, but I see his jaw muscle clench as I give a small yelp when the policeman's hand squeezes me even tighter. Then, in one swift movement, Daniel elbows the policeman in the stomach and kicks his shin. The man doubles over for a second, manages to keep his grip on Daniel, but lets me go in the process.
Run. Daniel mouths at me.
I turn on my heel to do just that, but I don't get very far because a big black boot slides in front of my right foot and trips me. I put my hands in front of me to try and block my fall some. My action assists in getting away with only scrape on my cheek as I hit the ground with my palms and then roll to the side, but my left wrist already aches with a sharp pain.
Kirkpatrick, with his right hand still clutching Daniel's handcuffed hands, yanks me up by my sore wrist. I let out a shriek of pain and his hold on me gentles a little, but it still hurts like crazy.
This is not going the way it was supposed to.