Hello my lovelies! I haven't been on in awhile (for those of you interested, I'm still working on the final chapters of "A Time to Choose' for my Newsies fanfic)

This is just a little one-shot I came up with for what Motorcycle Boy is thinking driving home from California after meeting his mother.

I don't own the characters, S.E. Hinton does. However, my take on Motorcycle Boy's mother is my own invention.

Hope you all enjoy!

I wonder if she would like to live in a tree house. Feeling like at any moment she could just reach up, and touch the sky.

Raise her hand through the leaves and stroke the clouds. I imagine they feel like cotton candy and taste like melancholy. Clouds, I'm talking about.

That's how some people fly. Get as high as they can, and don't look down, pretend they're soaring. Imagining the birds around them accept their new companion without a shred of doubt.

But motorcycles, you can fly as high as the wind and never leave the ground. Feel the breeze dance through your hair. The roar of the engine urging you to go on and on, never stopping.

That's how I fly.

flashback to a week ago

"It's about time you got here" she said. She making a pie crust. I knew she couldn't cook. She did too. It was all for the experience and joy of trying to make a pie crust.

"Mmhmm"

"I'm thinking of moving in with John. He lives in a tree, that'd be an adventure"

She stares out the window scrunching up her nose. Dad told me once that I have her nose.

Her hair's a mess. It's auburn, with streaks of blond. But not one grey hair. She's never going to grow old. She couldn't even if she tried.

"What kind of tree you going to live in?"

She stares at me.

"A cherry tree. I just hope George Washington doesn't try to chop us down" She smiles, and it's not strained. It was a truly, funny joke.

There was a long pause as she retreated into her mind. Her eyes were staring right at me, but she wasn't looking at me. Five seconds or ten minutes later she resumed her part of the conversation.

"I'm telling you. As my son, you should know this. People are born to fight. They'll fight themselves if there's no one else. It's better to be in a bubble and float your way around"

I don't listen, not really. I'm mostly thinking of the river. That's the one thing I truly miss from home.

"But I can see you're already in your bubble"

Rivers don't stop moving. They can't and they won't.

"Don't fight it. 'That that is, is'"

I've never known a mother to quote Shakespeare.

"It's late. You better go back to where you came" she said.

I would love to just be a river. Not in a river, but be one. Always moving, never stopping, never settling. I would like that very much.

I stood up and brushed the dirt that wasn't there off my pants.

I stared at her and for the first time in my life, I was unsure.

Should I shake her hand? Kiss her goodbye? Hug? How do you say goodbye to a mother who's been absent most of your life? You don't.

"I'll see you around" she smiled and walked into the living room.

We both know we wouldn't see each other again, not in this life, at least.

I smiled, my lips widening over my teeth, the tips reaching near my eyes.

It felt strange, smiling after so long.

"Bye, Ma"

I don't know why I walked outta her boyfriend's house smiling. I wasn't happy. I wasn't excited. I was just smiling for the fun of it.