A/N: This update's a bit short so I'll try to get the next one up more quickly than usual to make up for it :)
It's four am and I'm searching Aiden's house for the key to mine, trying to be as quiet as possible. If things go as planned, today will be a big day. Spencer and I could be on our way out of Los Angeles tonight. Just the thought sends a shot of adrenaline to every inch of my body.
The Dennisons are hiding my key under the welcome mat by the front door, I soon discover. Of course.
I leave it there with a roll of my eyes and return to my room to try and go back to sleep. I'll definitely need my energy for tomorrow. The next twenty-four hours are going to be an adventure of epic proportions. And it's only just the beginning. "I'm coming, Dad," I murmur to the ceiling, and then bask in the peaceful silence that follows.
Aiden tries to start a conversation the next morning on the way to school.
"Did you get what you needed yesterday?"
Inwardly, I smile. "Yes, I did."
He nods awkwardly. There's a pause. "You came home late last night."
"It was a long walk," I answer shortly.
"Are you…" He swallows, then, and glances to me. "…Are you happier, then?"
I suppose in his own uncomfortable way he's trying to show he still cares, even after my outburst. I do feel a little bad about it in hindsight, but mostly I'm upset with myself for revealing so much of my thoughts to him. It would be unsurprising if he starts watching me more closely now, especially since I know he was already concerned that I'd try to flee Los Angeles. "I'm better," I tell him. He nods again and doesn't ask me anything else.
I get through two classes at school before I catch Spencer and Sloan in the same vicinity. She's by her locker and he's just down the hallway, talking to a Patrol grunt with his back to me. Spencer and I meet each other's gazes from across the hall and I give her a small nod. Go time.
I turn and wave to get the grunt's attention, and he looks confused for a moment before I calmly shift my wave to a silent "fuck you", my middle finger stuck prominently in the air. His confusion quickly turns to anger, and Sloan notices, abruptly spinning around to look for suspicious activity. I hastily turn away and pretend to be reading a flier pinned to a board against the wall behind me. A moment later, I glance back and he's turned away, trying to hold a conversation with the grunt again despite the other man's obvious chagrined look.
Hiding a grin, I wave again, easily regaining the grunt's attention. I point at him, then at Sloan, and then mimic giving a blow job. He turns beet-red and tries to push past Sloan to get at me, but Sloan holds him back, clearly baffled, and then turns around to see me standing there, several yards down the hallway. His eyes narrow and he shoves the grunt back, where he stumbles and nearly falls against several surprised students. Sloan marches right toward me and then latches his hand onto my bicep with an oh-so-familiar tightened grip. I'm treasuring the feeling right now, but I try my best to look pained.
"Why am I not surprised," he deadpans, looking down at me with disdain. "Ashley Davies. Tell me, how did turning down my offer work out for your mother, hmm?"
I clench my teeth together to prevent myself from saying something I'll regret. I want to get in trouble, not seriously hurt or killed. I need to be annoying, not defiant. "Better than bad hygiene's working out for you," I retort. Several students overhear me and have to hide their grins. Sloan's grip gets more painful and he immediately yanks me down the hallway to his office. Perfect.
Once inside, he practically throws me into the chair across from his desk, and then looms over me intimidatingly. I've long since noticed the pattern. He likes to make his victims feel as small as possible and make himself look as big as possible. "I'm actually glad you decided to act like a little brat today," he tells me. "It's been a while since I've reminded you who your superiors are."
"Whoa there," I reply, looking to him with surprise. "Am I in trouble here or is this the beginning of a bad porno?"
He turns as red as the grunt did and attempts to sputter out a response. A moment later, a loud scream comes from somewhere out in the hallway, and Sloan swivels around curiously. A second scream comes, and he turns and glares at me. "Stay here," he demands, and then hurries out of the room.
The second he's gone, I immediately leap to my feet and begin to survey the file cabinets scattered around the room, filled to the brim with files and student records. They're labeled, each with a different letter or segment of the alphabet, and I frantically look for a "C". My eyes finally fall on it just as I hear Spencer's voice from out in the hallway. "I just saw a spider. It was right there; I swear!"
I hurry over to the file cabinet and pull it open as quietly as possible. It still makes some noise and I hesitate, but there's too much commotion going on outside; Sloan can't hear me in here. I don't have to open it too much, as it turns out; "Car" isn't too far in and I flip past Cabrera, Caesar, Cagan, Cage, Calahan, Camble, Cantrell…
"C'mon, I murmur, my anxiety only slightly eased by the sounds of a second girls' voice from outside as she declares frantically that she's allergic to spiders. Capek, Carey, Carinio… Carlin!
Clay's file is there too but I move past it and pull up the next file: Spencer's. I open it and flip through it frantically, skipping past report cards and behavioral reports, and then eventually come to a strange paper that I glimpse pictures of her mother and father at the top of. Making a split-second decision, I snatch that paper out, fold it up, and pocket it. When I glance back at the file, the next page is her birth certificate. I grin immediately and grab it as well, shove it into my pocket, and then hastily put the file back and close the cabinet just as the commotion outside appears to be dying down. I hurry back to my seat and am almost completely sitting down when Sloan returns. Luckily, he's too busy rubbing at his forehead in frustration to notice, and when he sits back down at his desk, he reaches for the phone sitting on top of it. Halfway to bringing the phone to his ear, he finally looks at me. I stare back.
"Get out," he deadpans, sounding tired, and I happily follow his orders, not believing my luck. Spencer's in the hallway when I get back, waiting for me, and I nod just once to her as I pass by. The corners of her lips tug upwards imperceptibly.
We're getting out of here tonight.