Chapter Eight: The Plan
A/N: okaaaaaay . . . now lots of you are going to read this chapter and say "ah, shades of 'the truth' ". Well, you're right in a way (if you've read the truth or something like it you might know what I mean). It's also 2:30 in the morning and I'm just doing as the story commands. I have no will power; I will do the story's bidding! Oh well.
******
Later that night, after Craig and Joey had dropped off Chloe, Craig began to pack. Joey stood in the doorway, watching.
"You don't have to do that tonight, Craig. There's no hurry." He spoke, and Craig managed a semi-carefree smile.
"Eh, it's better to get it out of the way now." He spoke, and Joey looked suspicious but didn't say anything. Finally deciding to leave the boy alone with his thoughts, Joey went back to the kitchen to help Angela color. Once he had gone Craig began to pack at a much faster rate, stuffing almost everything into a large duffle bag. He topped the bag with his camera, a picture of Angela, and a photo booth strip of Chloe and himself, taken years ago at the ocean. Zipping it shut he pulled a note from the nearby desk and laid it on the bed. Looking around the now empty room Craig felt a pang of guilt that was quickly washed away as he started climbing out the window. There was no way he was going back to his father's house.
Joey found the note hours later, and read it aloud absently:
Dear Joey,
Thank you so much for putting up with me these past three weeks. You're a great dad and Angie is lucky to have you. I'm leaving and can't say where for. I simply cannot go back to that house to live with that man who calls himself my father. In the past three weeks I have learned from you how a real father acts, and he simply is not it. Please tell Angie that I love her and will miss her. Tell Chloe that I'm sorry I have to go. I will write again when I find a place to stay.
Yours, Craig
Across town, Craig stood at the bus station waiting for the midnight train to Ottawa. He hadn't remembered the train station being so dark and creepy when he had gone with his mom, Joey, and Angie to B.C. Shaking off the distinct feeling of foreboding, Craig attributed the general shady atmosphere as being a mere product of the night and his overactive imagination.
Sitting down in the empty station, Craig watched as a muscled man made his way through the door and in Craig's direction. Even with all the empty seating in the station, the man made his way quickly to where Craig was seated and plopped down next to him. Craig remained motionless for a moment before standing up and gathering his bag.
Craig moved quickly in the direction of the washroom without looking back. He hadn't gotten far before he heard the distinct sound of quickening footsteps behind him. Panic washed over him as he broke into a run. Finally he reached an alcove and paused. Glancing around quickly he found himself alone again, and waited a moment to catch his breath. When he could finally walk again he started to leave the alcove, but stopped abruptly as he was grabbed roughly by the arm and forced up against the wall. Craig was half expecting his assailant to be his father, and half expecting it to be a worried Joey. What Craig hadn't imagined was that the man from the lobby would have him pinned against the dirty concrete wall. The man smelled disgustingly of strong onion and garlic, and Craig tried desperately to wiggle away. The man smiled, slightly madly.
"Where you going, little one?" The man asked, and Craig frowned.
"Let go, I'm going to miss my train." Craig demanded, and the man's tight grip caused him to drop his bag. The man shook his head.
"That doesn't matter, you don't have anywhere to be. We're friends now. Don't you want to be my friend?" he asked, chuckling at a private joke and beginning to fiddle with Craig's zipper. Craig felt a sudden surge of energy and pushed the man away.
"What's wrong with you, man?" he asked before the man had him pinned again. This time, Craig's face was pressed hard against the concrete and the man's lips were inches away from his ear.
"I just want us to be friends." He whispered, and Craig felt that old familiar chill shoot down his spine. Craig had just begun to scream for help when he heard a panicked female voice call out his name. He felt the weight of the man being lifted off him and suddenly had his arms full of a warm, blonde girl. She was hugging him ferociously and Craig clung to her with sheer surprise. Looking over, he was surprised to find Joey holding his attacker down on the ground.
"Joey? Chlo? What are you doing here?" he asked, watching as Joey hauled the man up by the arm and recognizing the girl in his arms as Chloe. Joey looked up from his task.
"A better question is: What are you doing here?" he spoke.
"We were so worried about you!" Chloe cried, hugging him again. He held her tightly and tried to explain.
"You don't understand, Joey. I can't go back to that house, live with that man. I just can't." Craig told him, and he looked thoughtful.
"I do understand that, Craig. I'm not blind, you know. I can see when things are bothering you, even if you refuse to talk about them. We can work this out, together, but this isn't a solution. You can't run away every time the going gets tough." Joey replied, and Craig nodded.
"But my dad . . . "
"It doesn't matter, Craig. The most important thing is your happiness. There are options still, other options we haven't even considered." Joey finished, still struggling to hold the would-be criminal. "I'm going to go call the cops and have them take this guy in. Promise you won't move?"
"Swear it." Craig responded, and Chloe nodded in agreement. Joey towed the man off to the payphone and Craig turned to the girl still in his arms. "How'd you find me?"
"Well Craig, when someone runs away there aren't exactly a lot of places they can go, especially when they're poor like you." she teased, and he grinned down at her. Her face turned suddenly somber and she tilted her head. "You would have left, without saying goodbye to me?"
Craig was suddenly sheepish as he turned his face up toward the skylight.
"It wasn't like I was exactly thinking clearly at the time, Chlo. I'm really sorry." He told her, and she smirked at him.
"Yeah, I know. I'll get over it."
A/N: okaaaaaay . . . now lots of you are going to read this chapter and say "ah, shades of 'the truth' ". Well, you're right in a way (if you've read the truth or something like it you might know what I mean). It's also 2:30 in the morning and I'm just doing as the story commands. I have no will power; I will do the story's bidding! Oh well.
******
Later that night, after Craig and Joey had dropped off Chloe, Craig began to pack. Joey stood in the doorway, watching.
"You don't have to do that tonight, Craig. There's no hurry." He spoke, and Craig managed a semi-carefree smile.
"Eh, it's better to get it out of the way now." He spoke, and Joey looked suspicious but didn't say anything. Finally deciding to leave the boy alone with his thoughts, Joey went back to the kitchen to help Angela color. Once he had gone Craig began to pack at a much faster rate, stuffing almost everything into a large duffle bag. He topped the bag with his camera, a picture of Angela, and a photo booth strip of Chloe and himself, taken years ago at the ocean. Zipping it shut he pulled a note from the nearby desk and laid it on the bed. Looking around the now empty room Craig felt a pang of guilt that was quickly washed away as he started climbing out the window. There was no way he was going back to his father's house.
Joey found the note hours later, and read it aloud absently:
Dear Joey,
Thank you so much for putting up with me these past three weeks. You're a great dad and Angie is lucky to have you. I'm leaving and can't say where for. I simply cannot go back to that house to live with that man who calls himself my father. In the past three weeks I have learned from you how a real father acts, and he simply is not it. Please tell Angie that I love her and will miss her. Tell Chloe that I'm sorry I have to go. I will write again when I find a place to stay.
Yours, Craig
Across town, Craig stood at the bus station waiting for the midnight train to Ottawa. He hadn't remembered the train station being so dark and creepy when he had gone with his mom, Joey, and Angie to B.C. Shaking off the distinct feeling of foreboding, Craig attributed the general shady atmosphere as being a mere product of the night and his overactive imagination.
Sitting down in the empty station, Craig watched as a muscled man made his way through the door and in Craig's direction. Even with all the empty seating in the station, the man made his way quickly to where Craig was seated and plopped down next to him. Craig remained motionless for a moment before standing up and gathering his bag.
Craig moved quickly in the direction of the washroom without looking back. He hadn't gotten far before he heard the distinct sound of quickening footsteps behind him. Panic washed over him as he broke into a run. Finally he reached an alcove and paused. Glancing around quickly he found himself alone again, and waited a moment to catch his breath. When he could finally walk again he started to leave the alcove, but stopped abruptly as he was grabbed roughly by the arm and forced up against the wall. Craig was half expecting his assailant to be his father, and half expecting it to be a worried Joey. What Craig hadn't imagined was that the man from the lobby would have him pinned against the dirty concrete wall. The man smelled disgustingly of strong onion and garlic, and Craig tried desperately to wiggle away. The man smiled, slightly madly.
"Where you going, little one?" The man asked, and Craig frowned.
"Let go, I'm going to miss my train." Craig demanded, and the man's tight grip caused him to drop his bag. The man shook his head.
"That doesn't matter, you don't have anywhere to be. We're friends now. Don't you want to be my friend?" he asked, chuckling at a private joke and beginning to fiddle with Craig's zipper. Craig felt a sudden surge of energy and pushed the man away.
"What's wrong with you, man?" he asked before the man had him pinned again. This time, Craig's face was pressed hard against the concrete and the man's lips were inches away from his ear.
"I just want us to be friends." He whispered, and Craig felt that old familiar chill shoot down his spine. Craig had just begun to scream for help when he heard a panicked female voice call out his name. He felt the weight of the man being lifted off him and suddenly had his arms full of a warm, blonde girl. She was hugging him ferociously and Craig clung to her with sheer surprise. Looking over, he was surprised to find Joey holding his attacker down on the ground.
"Joey? Chlo? What are you doing here?" he asked, watching as Joey hauled the man up by the arm and recognizing the girl in his arms as Chloe. Joey looked up from his task.
"A better question is: What are you doing here?" he spoke.
"We were so worried about you!" Chloe cried, hugging him again. He held her tightly and tried to explain.
"You don't understand, Joey. I can't go back to that house, live with that man. I just can't." Craig told him, and he looked thoughtful.
"I do understand that, Craig. I'm not blind, you know. I can see when things are bothering you, even if you refuse to talk about them. We can work this out, together, but this isn't a solution. You can't run away every time the going gets tough." Joey replied, and Craig nodded.
"But my dad . . . "
"It doesn't matter, Craig. The most important thing is your happiness. There are options still, other options we haven't even considered." Joey finished, still struggling to hold the would-be criminal. "I'm going to go call the cops and have them take this guy in. Promise you won't move?"
"Swear it." Craig responded, and Chloe nodded in agreement. Joey towed the man off to the payphone and Craig turned to the girl still in his arms. "How'd you find me?"
"Well Craig, when someone runs away there aren't exactly a lot of places they can go, especially when they're poor like you." she teased, and he grinned down at her. Her face turned suddenly somber and she tilted her head. "You would have left, without saying goodbye to me?"
Craig was suddenly sheepish as he turned his face up toward the skylight.
"It wasn't like I was exactly thinking clearly at the time, Chlo. I'm really sorry." He told her, and she smirked at him.
"Yeah, I know. I'll get over it."
