***
"No. No. No. For the last time, you're not."
Courtney growled and reached higher for the keys.
"You shouldn't even know about this! Ugh!"
He had been toying with her for several minutes now, and hadn't said a word. It wasn't as though he would be able to convince her, anyway. And besides, Duncan had made up his mind. He was going to go, all the way to Florida, with this psycho chick whom, he noted feverishly, he didn't even like. In fact, he could barely stand her. But even with this truth so apparent in his mind, he was still going far out of his way to spend hours on end with her, in a cramped little car, with a never-ending awkward silence.
Sure, that made a whole lot of sense.
But it was that damn gut feeling again. There was something inside of Duncan that was screeching for him to go. Who knows, maybe he could ditch her halfway through the trip? Maybe this was an opportunity hidden in the rough. And by rough, he meant a crazy girl with a tight sneer.
"Give it back, or so help me I will—"
"Look," Duncan cut in shortly, his patience broken. "I'm coming on this trip, and you're just going to have to deal with it. You can whine, and you can complain, but you've got no one but yourself to blame. You dumped this entire thing on me, so you're going to have to live with the fact that I'm going. I'm stuck with you, so live with it."
As if that were the final word, though Duncan was not so naïve as to think it was, he brushed past her and made his way down the stairs.
"My fault? My fault? Are you kidding me? I told you barely anything! Not to mention, you kept asking and asking to know end! 'C'mon, tell me! What's it gonna hurt?' You figured it out on your own! And now you're supposedly stuck with me? Yeah, right! You're just being a… a…"
Duncan turned his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at the girl as she paused to find a word. The upstairs hallway remained unlit, and he found he liked it better in the dark.
"A what?"
Her eyes flashed at the sound of his voice, and she snapped, rather pathetically "A jerk!"
He chuckled and continued to saunter down the steps, as Courtney fumed behind him. "I can't stand you!"
"Really? I couldn't tell."
"Ugh!"
Duncan smiled as the last piece of hair fluttered to the bathroom floor. He stepped back, and appraised himself.
Not too bad.
Sure, the Mohawk was a bit messy (as was the sink and counter, he noted— but ignored) but it didn't look awful. And with the hair dye, no one would notice the uneven cut. And really, all it needed otherwise was a little bit of styling gel for it to stand up straight and proud, and then the look would be complete.
Not long ago, the idea of an eccentric haircut wasn't something that Duncan had seriously considered. But after seeing his father's reaction to the intense red of a good friend's hair, he had given the idea a second thought.
"Disgusting, truly disgusting." The man had muttered, shaking his head. They were driving home after having picked Duncan up from the local park, having missed his curfew for the second time that week. Though really, who could expect a rebellious fourteen-year-old to make the effort to be home on time?
"You think so, dad?" He smirked, eyes drifting out the window as dark houses rushed by.
Duncan's father snorted. "Yes, I do. I swear, Duncan, if you ever do that to your head, I will personally rip out each and every hair, one by one."
The smile twitched, and his eyes flickered with intention.
"Huh,"
The box instructed him to leave the dye in for fifteen minutes, but Duncan figured that for such a bright colour, longer would be better. Twenty would do the trick. He had also made sure to get the demi-permanent, since it lasted longer. After all, the longer the style lasted, the longer he could enjoy his father's annoyance with him. Duncan figured he could get a good month of colour from it, until he was set to dye it again.
It was up to about the seventeen-minute mark, according to the small watch he had set on the bathroom counter, when Duncan heard a woman's voice from the other side of the bathroom door.
"Duncan, honey? Dinner's on the table… You've been in there for a long time. Uh," She paused for a slight second, before continuing cautiously. "…Do you want me to come back in a while?"
"What? Ah, mom— no! I mean," He rolled his eyes and turned on the tap. "Just wait a second. I'll be right out."
And not a moment later, he emerged, hair now a bright green.
His mother dropped the dish towel in her hand, lips forming a slack O.
They stood in silence for a long minute, until she finally sighed and ran a hand through the damp excuse for hair her son had arranged on his head. She wasn't angry, at least.
"Your father's going to kill you."
And he grinned, knowing full well that this was true. "Yeah, I realize."
"Well," she started, picking up the towel from where it had been resting on her feet and glancing at her son's palms. "Let's at least wipe your hands. They're covered in dye. Didn't you use gloves?"
The woman then began to scrub away at the mess on Duncan's skin with the patterned towel in her clenched fist. It hurt a bit, as though she were scraping off the skin on his hand, and not the dye. But, knowing he would want his mother's alliance in a few minutes, Duncan chose not to point this out, and endured. After a long moment of scouring, her eyes grazed past the bathroom door, and the woman groaned. "Please tell me you wereplanning on cleaning that up." Carol's tone hardened slightly, her blue eyes —a bright trait Duncan had inherited— narrowing. If nothing else, she was particular about how her house was to be kept.
"Yes, mother."
She leant forward and placed a kiss on his forehead, to Duncan's dismay, and flicked off the bathroom light. "Well, let's get this confrontation over with."
Right. That.
Following behind his mother, Duncan slid down the hall and into the dining room, where his father sat, fork in hand. The man's eyes rose from the newspaper at his side and snapped immediately to his son's hair.
"What the hell did you do?"
Unable, and not attempting to, retrain himself, Duncan flashed his old man a cheeky grin. "Well, dad, I slid down a hill on my head. I'm sure the grass stains will come out eventually."
Arthur started to say something, when his wife cut in. "Well, I like it. It suits him, and Duncan's allowed to what he wants. It's his hair." Giving a curt look towards her husband and son, as if to warn them not to make trouble, she turned and slipped into her chair.
Duncan, wanting a reaction of some sort, waited. His father didn't disappoint.
"You look like a punk."
Satisfied, he shuffled over to his spot and dropped into the seat. His smile had twisted into something better considered as a sneer, and Duncan chose to flaunt it. Sarcasm made its way towards his lips.
"Thanks, dad."
The words tainted his tongue, and drifted away without a response.
He tossed the duffel in the car's back seat and slammed the door. Courtney was gripping him by the arm, rather tightly, he noted, while she hissed, "What do you think you're doing? There is no way I'm allowing you to come with me— you'll mess up everything that I've worked so hard for. Do you realize I've had this trip planned since I was eleven? And I will have you know that I've used every spare moment I had to earn the money that I need. Since I waseleven!"
Her words held reasoning that would have convinced anyone else, but Duncan wasn't like everyone else. When he set his mind on doing something, it would be done one way or another. Granted, his ambitions were never very scholarly nor towards the benefit of mankind, but nonetheless he was determined. It was ironic, in a way, since the very characteristic that caused Courtney the most amount of despair was also been one of the only traits they shared.
"My answer is no. No, no, and no. You cannot come."
Smirk.
"Good thing it wasn't a question. Now, here's how it's going to work—" and he drew in a breath, when Courtney, quick as could be, cut in.
"No, let me tell you how it is going to work: you are going to leave, and be completely silent about everything that has occurred, do you understand? None of this is your business, none of your concern, and not your problem. So leave. Me. Alone!"
Duncan rolled his eyes and turned to the girl, who was fuming to such a degree it was nearly abnormal. He crossed his arms and leant against the side of the car, tone calm and under control. "I don't think you're really in a position to be bossing me around. Don't forget, I've got your keys." And, to emphasize her vulnerability, he twitched his wrist repeatedly, so Courtney could hear the jangling of metal against metal. "But if you wanted to make a bargain, I might be up for that."
She scowled at the mere idea of bartering for something he had no right to, but out of what must have been pure curiosity, she humoured him with a response. "A bargain? Like what?"
Clicking his tongue lightly, Duncan pursed his lips and tried to come up with a half-decent solution. He knew all too well she wouldn't go down without a fight. "How about this: You let me go with you, and I'll give you your keys back."
"That doesn't sound like much of a bargain." Courtney growled, her eyes growing darker.
"Let me finish." Duncan snapped, irritated. Could she not even consider the idea for a moment? "I'll go with you, and we'll split the cost of food. How's that?"
Scoff. "Oh, yeah, right. I pay for the hotel rooms, the gas, and the other half of the food cost. That's fair."
Hotel rooms?
Oh, hell. He hadn't even thought about that.
"Okay, okay, here: I pay for food and every other fill-up on gas. Is that fair?"
The scowl didn't lift.
"Come on," Duncan groaned. "It's not like I've saved up for this or anything."
Courtney's eyes flashed, and it was obvious he had said the wrong thing. Again.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry. Is making my life a living hell not in your budget? You don't have to pay for anything— you're not invited!"
At this point, Duncan was near angry. How could this girl not grasp the concept? He was going with her, and she had no say. End of story.
But he smiled, and gave a slight shrug. Because protest as she might, the outcome was inevitable. The cold metal digging into his palm was a reminder that he, despite Courtney's beliefs, was the ultimate decider. And his mind was already made up. "Well, then, I guess I'll just take these," he slid the key ring on a finger and held it up for her to admire "and leave."
Courtney glanced from Duncan to her keys and back again. He could tell that she was unbelievably torn, and wasn't very good at dealing with it. Futility didn't sit well with her, it seemed.
They stood there for a moment, as the girl was probably racing to find a solution in her mind. But nothing came, and she clenched her jaw pointedly.
"Fine." Courtney hissed, making to grab the keys. But Duncan jerked his arm away, and nodded towards the car.
"Get in first, and then you get your keys back." He wasn't about to take any chances with this girl. She was a ticking time bomb.
Huffing angrily, Courtney turned sharply and made her way to the door, yanking it open and slipping into the driver's seat. Duncan, a feeling of smug triumph swelling in his chest, hopped in beside her. She gave him a harsh look, before clicking in her seatbelt and holding out her hand impatiently. With reluctance he garnered just to annoy her, Duncan slowly leaned over and dropped the keys in her palm, adding a wink. Her cheeks reddened, out of red hot anger, and she started the car. The girl sucked in a breath and held it for a moment, until finally she sighed and pressed a bit too hard on the gas pedal. They sped away from the house, away from the neighbourhood, and out of the city.
And they were gone.
What the hell had he been thinking?
Such a phrase was rarely one to cross Duncan's mind. But the odd moment that it did, it was often due to a kind of spontaneity that he evidently regretted. This was no different.
This girl, this girl, was unbelievable. She was so stupidly unaware of how dutifully she had followed those limits that had been set for her, so willing— it was sickening, really. And yet, there was something about her he never could have placed before. A girl like that, a girl like her, coming from a family like that? Courtney hadn't said anything about it, not a word, but the look that had spread over her features without even a moment's hesitation said it all. But how bad could it be? On what level? Truthfully, the idea hadn't sparked sympathy in Duncan. It seemed heartless, and in a way, it was— but then, who was he to be concerned? He didn't even know to what extent her situation had reached. For all he knew, she could simply be overreacting about something stupid and unnecessary. Though, he had to admit, if only to himself, that Courtney didn't seem the type to be very rash. There must have been something to truly push her over the edge.
But, his scepticism aside, there wasn't much of a reason for him to worry. Duncan wasn't a naturally compassionate person in the first place, never mind the fact that he couldn't have cared less for that particular girl.
So… why did he feel so obligated to come?
No, no. Not obligated. Just… well, it was only that the situation had presented itself, and he had taken advantage of it. In complete honesty, Duncan doubted he would make it even halfway to Florida. There were just so many other things he could be doing that summer… he wasn't about to waste too much of it on one girl. Especially not Courtney.
"How long is this trip, anyway?" He asked, interest mild. They had been driving for almost three hours now, and few words had been exchanged between them. The sun, warm and pink, had just barely begun to poke into sky ahead of them.
Courtney pursed her lips and didn't say anything as she thought for a moment, her fingers tapping the steering wheel softly. When her voice did come, it was slow and calculated. "Well, it's about fifty hours straight to Florida, give or take. But then there will be traffic to add onto that, of course, and assuming I'd like to be driving about nine to ten hours a day… not to mention I'd have to add on time for the odd stop now and then… I'd say approximately six days."
"Why don't you just drive through the night? You'd save a lot of time."
Her nose crinkled at the idea. "And what, just sleep on the side of the road when I'm tired? No thank you. I've planned this whole trip, and I intend on doing it the right way." She yawned slightly at the mention of sleep, and nodded her head in the direction of the road before them. "Look, we're going to be approaching the border soon, so I think we'd better get our stories straight first. Do you have a passport?"
Glancing behind him, to where the duffel bag sat, squished between the back of his seat, Duncan nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's in there. Why do we need to come up with stories?"
The girl, annoyed by his lack of understanding, gave a little scoff. "Well, they're obviously going to ask us what we're crossing the international border for. They have to, to make sure no one's bringing anything illegal into the country. That's the law. So, I figure we can come up with something along the lines of…"
"We're leaving for college, maybe? That would explain the boxes."
She shook her head. "No, I thought about that. Passports state your date of birth, so it wouldn't be too hard to notice that we're a year short of college. Besides, I'm not going to college, I'm going to university."
"Does that matter?" Duncan said with an amused snort.
With a sigh, Courtney dismissed his comment and mused on. "We need something simple, and something that's not an entire lie, in case they figure out that we're being dishonest. And, of course, it can't be suspicious or anything."
"Don't you think you're thinking about this a bit too much? Why not just tell the truth?" Duncan suggested casually. She shot him a raised eyebrow, and he continued. "Not all of the truth. Just say you're moving to live with your aunt in Florida."
"Well, since I don't have any better options, I guess that's fine. But," she paused, thinking some more, "what about you? What's your explanation supposed to be?"
How was it that nearly everything she said managed to come out disdainfully?
This in mind, Duncan slouched in his seat and shot a dirty smirk in Courtney's direction.
"I just came along for the ride."
Her eyes narrowed spitefully. "It was your idea to tell the truth, Duncan, so tell me. What are you doing here? Why did you want to come so badly? Aren't you going to get in trouble with your parents, anyway?"
His smiled slipped at the word parents, and Duncan bit the inside of his cheeks distastefully before turning to watch the road as it streaked by them, challenging, "aren't you?"
She shot him a dark glare, as if to warn him not to even so much as approach the idea.
"Probably," he answered after a moment with an indifferent shrug. "But do a give a shit?"
Courtney gave a look that reeked of disapproval. Duncan shot her the same one.
"Even still, you've got to take some responsibility." She chastised. "Don't you think they'd be worried?"
The truth was, there was a slight, lingering guilt. Because, though he wouldn't be quick to admit it, Duncan wasn't eager to worry his mother. She had been through it all. Every mistake he had made, each time he messed up, she had been there. When his father's face was bright red with fury, she had been the one to calm him down. She had always managed to keep whatever frail relationship the two men had from falling to pieces. Yeah, sure, there had been times when she had looked at him with such a sense of disappointment, it hurt; but there was also a twinge of understanding. And though it couldn't be enough to undo everything he had done, or to turn him on a better path, the knowledge that at least one person believed he wasn't entirely corrupt was enough to keep his feet on the ground.
"My parents are out of town." Duncan stated finally, after a silence that had extended longer than he had intended. "For a conference or something. They won't be back for a week anyway."
"You should still call them."
Giving a small grunt, Duncan shifted to lean his elbow against the edge of the window. The glass was cool against his skin, and it prickled.
"Yeah. Whatever."
"Drivers license and registration, please."
Courtney leaned across and clicked open the glove compartment before Duncan. She pulled out several papers and a plastic card, turning back to hand the information to the uniformed officer through the window. Giving a sweet smile to the man, whose eyes didn't bother to return the friendliness, Courtney folded her hands on her lap and waited.
A moment passed, and then the officer stretched his arm out of the booth's window and handed Courtney back the license and registration, who accepted happily. Duncan knew better than to take the eagerness as her honest reaction, though. She was paranoid, and couldn't get the prospect of being 'found out' to leave her thoughts for a moment. It was stupid, really, and he decided to use this. "Passports."
"Ah, one second." Duncan flashed the officer a smirk and turned to reach into the back seat. He unzipped his bag and began to dig through it. After a minute of searching, he shifted back into the seat and waved the little book in front of Courtney. "Got it."
The brunette rolled her eyes, and turned with a hint of embarrassment to the man in the booth. "Well, Duncan, give the officer your passport." She instructed without looking at him, through a forced smile and as she handed the man her own.
But Duncan didn't follow her order right away. Instead, he let his eyes drift past Courtney and meet those of the impatient officer's.
Who the hell does he think he is wearing that uniform? Why does it make him any better than anyone else? How does it give him the right to tell me what I can and can't do?
He gritted his teeth, and produced a spiteful smile.
"So, exactly how long does it take to become a police officer, anyway? Like, a couple weeks?"
The sound of a sharp intake of breath reached his ears, but he ignored it. The man's lips twisted slightly.
"It takes years of training and studying, boy."
The smile slid wider. "All that just to sit in a booth?"
"Duncan."
Ignoring Courtney's tone, he reached over and shrugged, handing the officer his passport. The man snatched it from his grip and opened the small book. He handed it back after a moment, and asked, "Purpose of visit?"
Duncan parted his lips to give a smartass answer, but Courtney was quick to beat him to the punch. "I'm moving for the summer to live with my aunt in Florida."
"And your boyfriend?"
"He," Courtney cut in swiftly, not pausing to question the man's assumption. "Is helping me move. Right, honey?"
She snapped her gaze to Duncan and, while the officer could not see, contorted her face into that of pure anger and annoyance. The look in her eyes screamed murder, and this amused Duncan. He smiled, and, with the same sort of sweetness she had infused into her own words, he replied. "Of course, sugarplum."
Courtney looked back to the man and fixed the smile back into her features. Her hand found its way to rest on his forearm, in a gesture that looked nearly affectionate. But Duncan knew better, as her nails then began to sink into his skin, and he nearly winced.
"And illegal substances, any alcohol?"
"No."
"Any uncooked meat or dairy?"
"No, none at all."
"Any weapons, knives or guns?"
"Oh, no."
The man nodded.
"Alright, move along. Just learn to respect authority, son. It might keep you out of trouble."
"Oh, don't worry," Courtney jumped in, her bright expression waning with the pressure of her anger. "I'll make sure of that. Thank you, officer."
She pressed on the gas lightly and they pulled through. But immediately after they were out of earshot, Courtney screeched.
"I can't believe you!" She glowered, face turning red. "I knew you were going to do something like that! Ugh, can't you do anything right?"
Duncan shifted slowly and reclined in his seat. He yawned, and stretched an arm. "Ech, I could. But what fun is that?"
"It's not about f—"
But he wasn't interested in hearing the rest of her rant, so he let his eyes close and stopped her. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. Bla bla bla, I need to correct myself before I completely ruin my future. I've had the lecture plenty of times, I don't need to hear it again. Now if you don't mind, sweetheart, I'm going to have a nap."
She continued on for a while, but her voice eventually faded away, and Duncan slipped into sleep.
"Uh, Duncan? Wake up."
No… five more minutes…
"Wake up, you moron. How in the world can you sleep for this long, anyway? Wake up."
Duncan made a face and turned his head away from Courtney's order.
"Look, I know you're awake. So just get up already. Spare me the trouble."
Finally, after annoying her for several more minutes, Duncan opened an eye. He rubbed the side of his face with the back of his hand and yawned lightly. It was nearing dark again, and they were parked near a pump at a rest stop. His gaze shifted to Courtney, who was speaking to him through his open window.
"Wha…?"
"You fell asleep around seven. I'm filling up on gas, so you go get snacks or something."
Thinking about it, Duncan faintly recalled stopping to eat at a fast food place along the way. He must have fallen asleep shortly afterwards.
"I'm not hungry, what do you want?" He mumbled, sitting up and loosening his stiff joints. How he would manage a car ride like this every day for the next week— he couldn't begin to imagine.
The girl bit her lower lip softly as she considered. "Uh, well, a bottle of water. That's all. Now go." She pulled opened the door, and motioned for him to slip out. Duncan scowled at her, still annoyed at having been woken.
He took a moment to stretch, before sighing and stumbling over to the convenience store. After grazing past the short aisles and grabbing a bottle of water from the back fridge, he made his way to the front counter and reluctantly reached for his wallet. "Pump number four," he indicated, remembering their deal of how to split the costs.
"No, not that pump."
Duncan's brow creased, and he nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's that one."
But the man's moustache bunched and he shook his head. "No, no. The girl paid a minute ago. She just left."
"No, that—"
He was about to object, when the idea hit him like a brick.
"Shit."
Duncan left the bottle of water on the counter and sprinted out of the store. Sure enough, his duffel bag was sitting there on the black pavement, plainly as could be, in place of Courtney's car.
He twisted his neck from left to right, trying to follow where she was. But there was no sign of the girl, and the heat in Duncan's body rose up his neck and flooded into his face. He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into tight fists.
She was gone.
Ooh! How about that. This story is turning out more and more unpredictable. And it's getting longer, too. I don't think I'll be able to update before the holiday break (I need to figure out the plot for the entire next chapter :S) so I'll say it now: happy holidays, people! Whatever you're celebrating, I hope you enjoy it! Even if you're sitting alone in your room with only a cupcake for company (…) I hope you guys have fun. I don't know… I'm just in the holiday spirit right now.
This chapter ties up a few loose ends, but then again, it unties a few as well. And no, Duncan has NOT fallen head-over-heels for her. When that will happen (I mean, IF it happens. Maybe this just isn't as much of a romance fic…), I'M not even sure yet. I know how it'll happen, just not at what point. I really only have up to this part planned out. The rest is, well, kind of scattered all over my mind.
So, because I don't believe I have said it yet, thank you. Thanks for reviewing, faving, and simply reading. It's really awesome!
Oh, and can you guess what Duncan's mother was referring to…? ;)
