Running Away:
"Please Charlie? Please?"
"Fletch," Charlotte sighs, taking off her glasses and rubbing her temple, "I have a huge test tomorrow that I have to study for. Play with Natalie if you want to play with someone that badly."
"She's mean. I don't want to play with her."
"Well then it looks like you're out of luck."
"But I'm bored." He whines, hanging off of the back of her chair and swinging his body around.
"You can't be bored, you're six." Charlotte chuckles slightly, "Besides you have like eight million toys. Go play with some of those." She erases the math equation that she just rewrote for the fifth time because she can't focus enough to get it right.
"I don't wanna."
"Fletcher!" She shouts, "I'm not going to tell you again. Go find something to do so I can study or I'm going to tell Mom and Dad that you weren't listening to me."
"You're mean too."
"I'm okay with that. Now go." She points toward the hallway that leads to the playroom.
He stomps off, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. Once he's out of the room, it's quiet, Natalie is up in her room doing homework, and Charlotte is able to focus on her work.
Half an hour later she looks up at a sudden sound of something hitting the floor and rolling. Fletcher is pulling a backpack that is full of stuff toward the back door.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm running away!" He shouts, using his whole body to push open the sliding door. He steps onto the porch and pushes his tiny round face against the glass.
"Don't forget to leave a forwarding address." She watches his pouting face look back at her before stomping down the wooden steps into the backyard.
He walks back up and speaks through the screen.
"Tell Momma and Daddy I left because you're mean."
"Will do. Anything else they should know?"
"I'll eat dinner in the treehouse tonight."
Charlotte tries her hardest to suppress the laugh that's bubbling up inside of her. He stalks off into the backyard and she moves to the window to watch him climb up into the treehouse to realize his backpack is still on the ground. He climbs back down and tries to throw it up but isn't strong enough. He opens the bag and pulls out two things, a Flash action figure and his mini telescope. He climbs up again, his tiny legs straining with the effort. He plops down facing the driveway, waiting to see his parents' car pull up.
Charlotte runs upstairs and grabs a jacket for him. It's starting to get a little chilly in Star City. She wraps her own sweater around her shoulders and puts his jacket in the bucket that works as a pulley device up into the treehouse. He looks down at her and crosses his arms.
"I get that you're mad. You don't need to do that." She puts her hand on her hip and tilts her head upward at him.
"I just wanted someone to play with me."
"I know buddy," Charlotte climbs up the ladder and sits next to her brother, "it sucks that you're so much younger than me and Nat, I get that. I also know how much it sucks to have so much work that I don't have the time to hang out with you. But you know what?"
He doesn't say anything, just lifts an eyebrow.
"I never would've had the guts to run away like you did." She says knowing this will gain her some brownie points. "You're getting older too Fletch. You're so grown up all of a sudden and that kind of makes me sad. I'm gonna be out of the house in two years and we won't get to see each other nearly as much as we do now."
"We won't?"
She gives a saddened expression and shakes her head.
"Not if I get into MIT."
"That's where Momma went!" Fletcher says, proud that he knows this.
"So I guess we both need to get better at making the time we have now special. What do you think?"
"I think, yes."
"So how about tonight, we run away together? I'll eat dinner up here with you."
"Okay!" He gives his brightest smile and nods his head, he reminds her of a puppy.
"What are you two doing up there?" Oliver's voice echoes from below them, interrupting their conversation.
Their parents are standing on the ground staring up at them with amusement. Neither of them have seen Charlotte up in the treehouse in years.
"We're running away," Fletcher yells down happily, "right Charlie?"
"Right Fletch."
"Alright, send a Christmas card." Felicity says, walking toward the house.
"Oh Garcon?" Charlotte says to her father while snapping her fingers. Oliver looks up again, crossing his arms; she now knows where Fletcher gets it. "We'll be dining in the tree tonight."
Oliver scoffs and shakes his head, following his wife toward the house.
"Alright weirdos."