21

[Patrick]

Lauren (aka Mom) and Dick were gone for the day, which made it easy to pack my gear. My cello was padlocked in my closet, and I doubt anyone remembered that I still played. My music collection was also under lock and key, and all that remained was my battered collection of books. There was nothing of value, and I could easily find stuff at the library if I had to. I'd called Jess with specific instructions to come get my stuff when the Glimmer Twins were out partying at their crack house. He knew their habits almost as well as me, and he wouldn't let me down.

I retrieved my special box from under the floorboards and packed it away in my duffel bag. The money was tucked away in my pocket, and anyone who wanted it would have to get through me. I'd saved every bit of Aunt Rachel's generous gifts to me through the years, and now I could operate on my own for a long while if it came to that.

Every one of my photos also went in the bag, and I was halfway down the stairs before I realized what this all meant.

I was leaving for good.

This was the house I grew up in, and up through my tenth year, the memories were mostly good. I scanned the living room for maybe the last time and stopped at the sight of a baseball. I'd caught that foul ball and had it personally signed by Trevor Hoffman, perhaps the best player ever for the Padres. That had been the best day of my life, and the last outing I had with Dad, who was killed a few days later by a hit and run driver. I picked up the ball and tossed it up a few times before tucking it in my coat pocket. One last look told me there was nothing left for me here.

I stepped out onto the porch and flagged down Keith, who was parked across the street. He walked slowly across the lawn and grabbed my backpack, while I shouldered my duffel and followed him to the van. "You carrying rocks in here, Verona?"

"Yeah, practicing up for my time in the joint."

I looked back at the house and realized I had one last piece of unfinished business. "You busy tonight?"

"Depends. What you got in mind?"

"You'll see." It was better to keep him in the dark.

"Cool. High school parking lot or beach?"

"Dog Beach. Say around 11?"

"Will do. Let's jet, or we'll miss the first bell."

[Kat]

a broken soul stares from a pair of watering eyes,
uncertain emotions force an uncertain smile...

Uncertain Smile, Lyrics by TheThe

Dad was right about me. Since meeting Patrick, I'd fallen into a pattern of lying and deception.

I'd always been the straight arrow, sure and true. The one people could count on, always known for my brutal honesty and conviction.

But not this time.

The permission slip and Dad's check burned me with shame that lasted right until I tore them up and tossed them in the dumpster.

With a sigh, I drove around to my usual parking space, where Patrick waited with crossed arms and a crooked grin.

I flashed an uncertain smile, still not sure I was doing this for the right reasons.

You want to be with him.

Well, duh...who wouldn't? I mean, Hannibal aside, have you seen the guy? He is Stud personified, with all the extras, and a fine mind going to waste. Yeah, I knew he tried to hide that part by talking rough, but I saw glimmers every now and again that he was off the charts smart. I knew it completely when he shyly revealed that he dabbled in cello, and there was no changing my mind after that.

You want to help him.

Patrick was vulnerable, and one of the walking wounded. It flashed in his eyes when his key chain went missing, and it showed up again when he caught me spying on him. Little by little, he was letting me in, and I wasn't about to turn my back on that. Him inviting me on this junket was a huge leap in trust for him, and I wouldn't let him down.

We hugged and he buried his face in my hair. Were he one of those emo dudes, he would have waxed poetic about how good I smelled. But his fingers twining around my braid told the whole story. It was there in his actions, just as it always was.

I put my arm around his waist and said, "Here's a plan for you. We tell our families we're going on this trip, and follow our own agenda."

Patrick stopped me at the door to the quad. "You're down with this?" he asked, disbelief crowding out the joy on his face.

He needed hope right now. "Yeah, sure."

"Really? So you'd lie to your Dad...for me."

"Like I said..." I needed to make him believe it, so I answered with some major lip action.

He pulled away slightly and touched my face with a huge grin. "This is better than a shutout at Petco Park."

His smile was infectious and we walked arm in arm into school, sailing past Tabitha Cook's punchable face standing next to Mr. Toga himself, Blank Slate.

I muttered, "Cute couple. I give them a week."

"Naw, more like an hour. She'll cut off his balls and eat him for breakfast."

"You speaking from personal experience?" The mock horror on Patrick's face made me giggle, and we bumped fists before heading off to our first class.
*****