AN: This is it before I go on vacation. So it'll be around two weeks
before any of my stories get up dated. I have two days I might get a
chance to update on so I'll try. Don't worry; no big cliff hangers here.
I'm being nice.
. . . . . .
"You have a B what are you so worked up about?" John asked as Richie dug around the crap scattered across their room looking for his shoes.
"But I want an A," Richie told him.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
"Get my A."
Richie went into Professor Conroy's office and went straight to his secretary.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Is Professor Conroy here?"
"Is he expecting you?"
"Kinda."
She eyed him warily as she reached for the phone. "Name."
"Richard Ryan."
"Professor, there's a Richard Ryan here to see you. Shall I send him in?" She put down the phone. "Go on in."
"Thank you."
"What can I help you with?" Professor Conroy asked pleasantly.
"Is it too late for that lecture thing?" Richie asked.
"Lecture thing?"
"Yeah. On going to juvie. Is it too late to do that?"
"I take it you're not pleased with your grade?"
"No. I studied my butt off for your class and only managed a B. If I can get an A, I want it," Richie told him. "And I told you before, I'll do anything to get it."
"Then I will give you the opportunity." He told him. "What is your schedule like on Saturday?"
. . . . . .
'What have I gotten myself into?' Richie thought to himself as he watched student after student enter the lecture hall. Professor Conroy had made the lecture extra credit for any student in any of his classes and Richie hadn't expected so many to show up on a Saturday morning. Or maybe he had just wished so many wouldn't show up. He hated public speaking and hated big crowds.
The professor stood and went to the podium to introduce him. "Today one of your fellow classmates has agreed to speak to you about his experiences in a juvenile detention center. You are expected to stay the complete hour to get credit and you may sign in with your student number and class time on your way out." He stepped aside and motioned Richie to the podium.
Slowly Richie got up and walked to his position. "I so wish I was in the audience right now," he started. A few students laughed. "Uh, I'm really no good at this. To be honest I'm doing this for the extra credit. If I had a better grade, you guys wouldn't be here." A few more people laughed. "Where to begin." he wondered out loud.
"How old were you?" somebody asked.
"Fifteen when I went in, sixteen when I got out. I like this whole question thing. Who's next?"
"What did you do?"
Richie laughed a little. "I was joy riding. They pulled me over because somehow while hot wiring the car, I shorted out the break lights." They laughed again. "I have a bit of a rep back home with the cops. So they knew I was up to no good with one look and they hauled me in. I got sentenced to a year but got out after nine months."
"What was it like?"
"Like a really strict boarding school," Richie began. "We were divided by grade and age. 8-12, 13-15, 16-18 so each cell block had a different age group."
"What was a day like?"
Richie took a deep breath. "Well at my place at 6:30 you got up. You had to be dressed and have your room clean by seven, which was inspection time. An officer would come to your room and make sure everything was exactly like it was supposed to be. Bed made like this, clothes folded like this, everything in its place. Once you and your roommate passed inspection, it was time for breakfast. If you didn't pass you had to wait for the officer to finish with everyone else and get back to you. You had to eat all your food and put your dishes away by eight so you could be in class by 8:15. You had to get a certain amount of work done before you could go to lunch at noon. And one o'clock you were back in class until three. Then you had some time to chill until five. Then at five you had to do homework or study or read and be silent until dinner. After dinner were chores, then lights out. And it starts all over again six days a week. Sunday was a bit of a relaxing day but there were still schedules. Wake up, meals, church, when we got to go outside, when we had to be in our rooms."
"What were your chores?"
"There was a rotation. For me it was Monday: garbage, Tuesday: dishes, Wednesday: cafeteria clean up, Thursday: grounds, Friday: bathrooms, Saturday: laundry, Sunday: the rec room."
"Which was the worst?"
"Laundry. A couple hundred sweaty boys and a weeks worth of their laundry. It was disgusting."
"Did you get punished?"
"Me personally? Yeah. A few times. Warden Karloson was one of those creative punishment guys. He did stuff like make you stand in the hall holding two buckets of water out to your sides for ten minutes or more depending on what you did. You couldn't put your arms down and you couldn't spill the water. Or sit in a certain spot outside your door after lights out. You couldn't lean against the wall, you couldn't sleep, and you couldn't make any noise. If you got in trouble for talking back or out of turn they would gag you and make you walk around like that all day. That happened to me a couple times. If you didn't do your school work, they'd put a class room desk in the cafeteria and tie you to it all day and you kept getting all these extra assignments you had to do and you couldn't get up at all until you finished everything and you couldn't talk. So all day you just sat there and did work except when you got to eat. But you only got ten minutes per meal and you didn't get to go to the bathroom until you were done. That was the worst part. If you didn't eat all your food you missed the next meal. But you couldn't just give your food to someone else because if they caught you then both of you missed the next meal."
"Is that legal? Not feeding a kid?"
Richie shrugged. "He did it."
"Did they ever beat anybody?"
"Not that I know of. I know that if you got in a fight with somebody they tied you together for forty-eight hours. You had to do everything together, eat, do your homework, do your chores, go to the bathroom, shower, sleep, everything. That happened to me a couple times, too."
"Did they do anything for your birthdays?"
"You got out of whatever chore you wanted. I skipped laundry. And while everyone else was doing chores you got to watch TV."
"Did it rehabilitate you?"
"It's true what they say. All jail time teaches you is how not to get caught. I pulled a few jobs after I got out."
Richie easily filled the hour and most people were reluctant to go. Richie included; he stuck around after everyone was dismissed and answered more questions for another hour.
. . . . . .
Richie got his A and got the same in all his other classes that semester. That Christmas, Richie stayed in Missouri and joined his father in the annual camping trip. They went fishing and hiking and even trained a little. Richie called Duncan in Paris to wish everyone a merry Christmas, make sure they had gotten the gifts he had sent, and thank them for the ones he had gotten.
The Cougars didn't make it to the Big Twelve that year by one game. they were beat out by OU. Richie swore revenge.
The spring semester he ended up with a B in his philosophy class but couldn't do anything about it so didn't worry about it. He finished his sophomore year with a 3.87 GPA. He went home to Washington of the summer.
. . . . . .
"When are you coming home?" Greg asked as he and Richie did the dishes after their final meal together before Richie left for the summer.
"I'll be back for tryouts. Then practice."
"Are you staying here?"
"I was hoping to."
"Good. What if you just bring all your things down and stay here between tryouts and when fall practice starts?" Greg suggested.
"But I was going to stay with Mac," Richie told him. "I haven't seen him since the Washington game last fall."
"Oh," Greg said softly.
"Dad, don't do that. You know I like it up there with them and I like it down here with you. I really crushed Mac staying here for Christmas. It's kinda a big deal up there. I at least want to be there for the summer."
"Richie," Greg put his dishtowel down and leaned on the counter. "One of these days you're going to have to make a decision. You can't mooch off of MacLeod's money the rest of your life."
"What?"
"You have to go out on your own."
"I was. For almost a year I had my own place back home. He's just paying for school, but I'm paying him back. I'm not mooching."
"And the car? The computer? The phone? The credit card? Are you paying him back for those, too?"
Richie sat down at the table. "What is this really about?"
"I don't like you just taking things from him."
"I don't just take anything. He's just kinda free with his money, that's all."
"When it comes to you."
"Dad."
"Richie, if you want to be friends with him, fine. You're too old for me to do anything about it. But I want you to stop advertising how much money he has and how much he likes to spend it on you."
"I don't advertise it," Richie protested.
"If I asked anyone on the team how you got your car, what would they say?" Greg pointed out.
"Dad, I'm a part time waiter at a university hangout. How else am I supposed to explain a Land Rover suddenly showing up in the parking lot?"
"I don't want you spreading the word around. People don't need to know where you get all your stuff."
"I bet you wouldn't be saying that if it all came from you," Richie answered.
"What did you say?" Greg asked.
"Is that why you hate him so much? Because he got me stuff before you could?"
"Money has nothing to do with it, Richard. And I think it would be wise if you think before you speak like that to me," Greg told him coldly.
"I'm sorry," Richie apologized. "But I still think it's true. Dad, the guy's four hundred years old, you think he doesn't have a couple hundred million in bank accounts around the world? I happen to know how much money he has, and I know for a fact, that to him buying a Land Rover is like taking a kid to McDonalds. You do it because you feel like being nice. I haven't made a dent in his savings. And once I have the money I'm paying back everything I can. I don't care if it takes me four hundred years. He's getting all his money back."
"I still think he's buttering you up," Greg said getting a glass of water. "He wants something."
"What? My head? Don't you think he'd save himself the trouble of tricking me into liking him and just take it? Dad, I don't care what either one of you say about the other. I don't believe either one of you is out to get me. Can we please change the subject?"
"I want to take you on a trip over Spring Break," Greg told him. "Just me and you."
"Sounds good," Richie grinned. "Where to?"
"You'll see."
"And don't make any plans for winter holiday either. I want to keep the tradition going."
"Okay," Richie thought for a minute. "That leaves me Easter and summer with Mac. I guess that's kinda even."
"Are you really going to drive all the way up there for Easter?" Greg asked. "By the time you got there you'd have just enough time to turn around and come home."
"I'll fly or something," Richie decided. "I'm not going to not see him all year."
"You'll have the summer."
"Dad, stop pushing, okay?"
"I'm sorry, Rich," Greg apologized. "I'm not used to sharing."
. . . . . . *One week later. Seacouver, Washington*
"What are you grinning about?" Duncan asked looking at Richie across the table.
"I'm just glad to be home," Richie shrugged.
"And?" Duncan prompted. "I know you; you don't grin like that just because you're home."
"I might have some news," he admitted.
"Well, what is it?" Duncan asked when Richie didn't continue.
"You won't be paying room and board next year."
"Greg convinced you to let him pay?" Greg had been pushing to distance Richie from his close relationship with Duncan all year. He was insisting on paying for the rest of Richie's schooling.
"He's not paying it either."
"Are you going to live at a bus stop?"
"No," Richie grinned. "At the team house. rent free. I'm the new captain."
"You got it?" Duncan nearly shouted. "I thought you said there weren't junior captains?"
"There hasn't been for, like, almost thirty years. I broke the streak."
"Richie that's great! Why didn't you call when you found out?"
"I wanted to tell you in person."
"Well I knew you were going to be starting. But captain? Congratulations!"
"I get to go from sharing a tiny dorm room to the master suite. No more near closet rooms for me," he joked jerking his thumb towards the staircase in the corner of the loft.
"Hey, I offered to split the loft with you. You said you were fine upstairs."
"And you believed me?" It was a long-standing argument between the two. When they moved into the loft Duncan had plans to divide it into a two- bedroom apartment but Richie insisted on the room upstairs. It was no more than a closet really. It just had enough room for his furniture. But Richie insisted on it saying he was looking for his own place. But when he moved out, he left his furniture and visited often. "But that means I have to go back for tryouts. I get to help with the cut list, run drills, blah blah blah. But I was hoping maybe I could just fly down? It's only for a week and I wanted to come back up until practice started if that's okay."
"If that's okay?" Duncan repeated. "Richie, it's great that you're the captain in your junior year, that's a great honor, and it carries more responsibilities and I know that. We'll have most of the summer together, I can handle a week. Maybe I'll go with you if business is slow."
"Cool."
. . . . . .
A month later Richie flew down for a week to help run tryouts and discuss the upcoming season with Coach Roberts. He came home and stayed for another month until he had to go back for practice. He left with the plans on staying the weekend of the Washington game and not returning until the summer. His father wanted to go camping again.
"Are you sure you're not mad?" Richie asked for the twelfth time as he and Duncan loaded his car.
"Richie," Duncan started then stopped trying to find the right words to say. "I wish you would come home more, but I understand that you have a lot of catching up to do with Greg and you have a lot more responsibility with the team now and you're getting really busy. There's nothing I can do about it. And there will come a time when you leave for good. You're not always going to be around. There's nothing I can do about that either. But we don't live by timelines. We can still get together for a week a year for the next three hundred years."
"Are you trying to guilt trip me into coming up more?"
"Yes," Duncan admitted. "Is it working?"
"Starting to."
"I'll miss you, Rich. You better get going."
"Now you're going to do the whole avoidance thing."
"Call me when you get there and tell me what you think."
"Think about what?"
"The team house."
"I think it' where I get to live rent-free for the next year."
Duncan just looked at Richie, he would miss the boy. "Bye, Richie."
"Bye, Mac." Richie knew he'd be talking with Mac frequently and would see him fairly soon, but he still missed the time where it was just him, Mac and Tessa everyday. He picked up the last bag and placed in the car, gave Duncan a hug and climbed in. He started the CD player and drove off, ready for his junior year of college.
AN: I know what you're all thinking. "What happened to his sophomore year? I'll tell you what happened. nothing. But Junior year.. Well, that's going to be something to look forward to. And to all those asking about Heather and immortality; yes, she will learn about immortals and that Richie is one of them. You just have to be patient.
. . . . . .
"You have a B what are you so worked up about?" John asked as Richie dug around the crap scattered across their room looking for his shoes.
"But I want an A," Richie told him.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
"Get my A."
Richie went into Professor Conroy's office and went straight to his secretary.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Is Professor Conroy here?"
"Is he expecting you?"
"Kinda."
She eyed him warily as she reached for the phone. "Name."
"Richard Ryan."
"Professor, there's a Richard Ryan here to see you. Shall I send him in?" She put down the phone. "Go on in."
"Thank you."
"What can I help you with?" Professor Conroy asked pleasantly.
"Is it too late for that lecture thing?" Richie asked.
"Lecture thing?"
"Yeah. On going to juvie. Is it too late to do that?"
"I take it you're not pleased with your grade?"
"No. I studied my butt off for your class and only managed a B. If I can get an A, I want it," Richie told him. "And I told you before, I'll do anything to get it."
"Then I will give you the opportunity." He told him. "What is your schedule like on Saturday?"
. . . . . .
'What have I gotten myself into?' Richie thought to himself as he watched student after student enter the lecture hall. Professor Conroy had made the lecture extra credit for any student in any of his classes and Richie hadn't expected so many to show up on a Saturday morning. Or maybe he had just wished so many wouldn't show up. He hated public speaking and hated big crowds.
The professor stood and went to the podium to introduce him. "Today one of your fellow classmates has agreed to speak to you about his experiences in a juvenile detention center. You are expected to stay the complete hour to get credit and you may sign in with your student number and class time on your way out." He stepped aside and motioned Richie to the podium.
Slowly Richie got up and walked to his position. "I so wish I was in the audience right now," he started. A few students laughed. "Uh, I'm really no good at this. To be honest I'm doing this for the extra credit. If I had a better grade, you guys wouldn't be here." A few more people laughed. "Where to begin." he wondered out loud.
"How old were you?" somebody asked.
"Fifteen when I went in, sixteen when I got out. I like this whole question thing. Who's next?"
"What did you do?"
Richie laughed a little. "I was joy riding. They pulled me over because somehow while hot wiring the car, I shorted out the break lights." They laughed again. "I have a bit of a rep back home with the cops. So they knew I was up to no good with one look and they hauled me in. I got sentenced to a year but got out after nine months."
"What was it like?"
"Like a really strict boarding school," Richie began. "We were divided by grade and age. 8-12, 13-15, 16-18 so each cell block had a different age group."
"What was a day like?"
Richie took a deep breath. "Well at my place at 6:30 you got up. You had to be dressed and have your room clean by seven, which was inspection time. An officer would come to your room and make sure everything was exactly like it was supposed to be. Bed made like this, clothes folded like this, everything in its place. Once you and your roommate passed inspection, it was time for breakfast. If you didn't pass you had to wait for the officer to finish with everyone else and get back to you. You had to eat all your food and put your dishes away by eight so you could be in class by 8:15. You had to get a certain amount of work done before you could go to lunch at noon. And one o'clock you were back in class until three. Then you had some time to chill until five. Then at five you had to do homework or study or read and be silent until dinner. After dinner were chores, then lights out. And it starts all over again six days a week. Sunday was a bit of a relaxing day but there were still schedules. Wake up, meals, church, when we got to go outside, when we had to be in our rooms."
"What were your chores?"
"There was a rotation. For me it was Monday: garbage, Tuesday: dishes, Wednesday: cafeteria clean up, Thursday: grounds, Friday: bathrooms, Saturday: laundry, Sunday: the rec room."
"Which was the worst?"
"Laundry. A couple hundred sweaty boys and a weeks worth of their laundry. It was disgusting."
"Did you get punished?"
"Me personally? Yeah. A few times. Warden Karloson was one of those creative punishment guys. He did stuff like make you stand in the hall holding two buckets of water out to your sides for ten minutes or more depending on what you did. You couldn't put your arms down and you couldn't spill the water. Or sit in a certain spot outside your door after lights out. You couldn't lean against the wall, you couldn't sleep, and you couldn't make any noise. If you got in trouble for talking back or out of turn they would gag you and make you walk around like that all day. That happened to me a couple times. If you didn't do your school work, they'd put a class room desk in the cafeteria and tie you to it all day and you kept getting all these extra assignments you had to do and you couldn't get up at all until you finished everything and you couldn't talk. So all day you just sat there and did work except when you got to eat. But you only got ten minutes per meal and you didn't get to go to the bathroom until you were done. That was the worst part. If you didn't eat all your food you missed the next meal. But you couldn't just give your food to someone else because if they caught you then both of you missed the next meal."
"Is that legal? Not feeding a kid?"
Richie shrugged. "He did it."
"Did they ever beat anybody?"
"Not that I know of. I know that if you got in a fight with somebody they tied you together for forty-eight hours. You had to do everything together, eat, do your homework, do your chores, go to the bathroom, shower, sleep, everything. That happened to me a couple times, too."
"Did they do anything for your birthdays?"
"You got out of whatever chore you wanted. I skipped laundry. And while everyone else was doing chores you got to watch TV."
"Did it rehabilitate you?"
"It's true what they say. All jail time teaches you is how not to get caught. I pulled a few jobs after I got out."
Richie easily filled the hour and most people were reluctant to go. Richie included; he stuck around after everyone was dismissed and answered more questions for another hour.
. . . . . .
Richie got his A and got the same in all his other classes that semester. That Christmas, Richie stayed in Missouri and joined his father in the annual camping trip. They went fishing and hiking and even trained a little. Richie called Duncan in Paris to wish everyone a merry Christmas, make sure they had gotten the gifts he had sent, and thank them for the ones he had gotten.
The Cougars didn't make it to the Big Twelve that year by one game. they were beat out by OU. Richie swore revenge.
The spring semester he ended up with a B in his philosophy class but couldn't do anything about it so didn't worry about it. He finished his sophomore year with a 3.87 GPA. He went home to Washington of the summer.
. . . . . .
"When are you coming home?" Greg asked as he and Richie did the dishes after their final meal together before Richie left for the summer.
"I'll be back for tryouts. Then practice."
"Are you staying here?"
"I was hoping to."
"Good. What if you just bring all your things down and stay here between tryouts and when fall practice starts?" Greg suggested.
"But I was going to stay with Mac," Richie told him. "I haven't seen him since the Washington game last fall."
"Oh," Greg said softly.
"Dad, don't do that. You know I like it up there with them and I like it down here with you. I really crushed Mac staying here for Christmas. It's kinda a big deal up there. I at least want to be there for the summer."
"Richie," Greg put his dishtowel down and leaned on the counter. "One of these days you're going to have to make a decision. You can't mooch off of MacLeod's money the rest of your life."
"What?"
"You have to go out on your own."
"I was. For almost a year I had my own place back home. He's just paying for school, but I'm paying him back. I'm not mooching."
"And the car? The computer? The phone? The credit card? Are you paying him back for those, too?"
Richie sat down at the table. "What is this really about?"
"I don't like you just taking things from him."
"I don't just take anything. He's just kinda free with his money, that's all."
"When it comes to you."
"Dad."
"Richie, if you want to be friends with him, fine. You're too old for me to do anything about it. But I want you to stop advertising how much money he has and how much he likes to spend it on you."
"I don't advertise it," Richie protested.
"If I asked anyone on the team how you got your car, what would they say?" Greg pointed out.
"Dad, I'm a part time waiter at a university hangout. How else am I supposed to explain a Land Rover suddenly showing up in the parking lot?"
"I don't want you spreading the word around. People don't need to know where you get all your stuff."
"I bet you wouldn't be saying that if it all came from you," Richie answered.
"What did you say?" Greg asked.
"Is that why you hate him so much? Because he got me stuff before you could?"
"Money has nothing to do with it, Richard. And I think it would be wise if you think before you speak like that to me," Greg told him coldly.
"I'm sorry," Richie apologized. "But I still think it's true. Dad, the guy's four hundred years old, you think he doesn't have a couple hundred million in bank accounts around the world? I happen to know how much money he has, and I know for a fact, that to him buying a Land Rover is like taking a kid to McDonalds. You do it because you feel like being nice. I haven't made a dent in his savings. And once I have the money I'm paying back everything I can. I don't care if it takes me four hundred years. He's getting all his money back."
"I still think he's buttering you up," Greg said getting a glass of water. "He wants something."
"What? My head? Don't you think he'd save himself the trouble of tricking me into liking him and just take it? Dad, I don't care what either one of you say about the other. I don't believe either one of you is out to get me. Can we please change the subject?"
"I want to take you on a trip over Spring Break," Greg told him. "Just me and you."
"Sounds good," Richie grinned. "Where to?"
"You'll see."
"And don't make any plans for winter holiday either. I want to keep the tradition going."
"Okay," Richie thought for a minute. "That leaves me Easter and summer with Mac. I guess that's kinda even."
"Are you really going to drive all the way up there for Easter?" Greg asked. "By the time you got there you'd have just enough time to turn around and come home."
"I'll fly or something," Richie decided. "I'm not going to not see him all year."
"You'll have the summer."
"Dad, stop pushing, okay?"
"I'm sorry, Rich," Greg apologized. "I'm not used to sharing."
. . . . . . *One week later. Seacouver, Washington*
"What are you grinning about?" Duncan asked looking at Richie across the table.
"I'm just glad to be home," Richie shrugged.
"And?" Duncan prompted. "I know you; you don't grin like that just because you're home."
"I might have some news," he admitted.
"Well, what is it?" Duncan asked when Richie didn't continue.
"You won't be paying room and board next year."
"Greg convinced you to let him pay?" Greg had been pushing to distance Richie from his close relationship with Duncan all year. He was insisting on paying for the rest of Richie's schooling.
"He's not paying it either."
"Are you going to live at a bus stop?"
"No," Richie grinned. "At the team house. rent free. I'm the new captain."
"You got it?" Duncan nearly shouted. "I thought you said there weren't junior captains?"
"There hasn't been for, like, almost thirty years. I broke the streak."
"Richie that's great! Why didn't you call when you found out?"
"I wanted to tell you in person."
"Well I knew you were going to be starting. But captain? Congratulations!"
"I get to go from sharing a tiny dorm room to the master suite. No more near closet rooms for me," he joked jerking his thumb towards the staircase in the corner of the loft.
"Hey, I offered to split the loft with you. You said you were fine upstairs."
"And you believed me?" It was a long-standing argument between the two. When they moved into the loft Duncan had plans to divide it into a two- bedroom apartment but Richie insisted on the room upstairs. It was no more than a closet really. It just had enough room for his furniture. But Richie insisted on it saying he was looking for his own place. But when he moved out, he left his furniture and visited often. "But that means I have to go back for tryouts. I get to help with the cut list, run drills, blah blah blah. But I was hoping maybe I could just fly down? It's only for a week and I wanted to come back up until practice started if that's okay."
"If that's okay?" Duncan repeated. "Richie, it's great that you're the captain in your junior year, that's a great honor, and it carries more responsibilities and I know that. We'll have most of the summer together, I can handle a week. Maybe I'll go with you if business is slow."
"Cool."
. . . . . .
A month later Richie flew down for a week to help run tryouts and discuss the upcoming season with Coach Roberts. He came home and stayed for another month until he had to go back for practice. He left with the plans on staying the weekend of the Washington game and not returning until the summer. His father wanted to go camping again.
"Are you sure you're not mad?" Richie asked for the twelfth time as he and Duncan loaded his car.
"Richie," Duncan started then stopped trying to find the right words to say. "I wish you would come home more, but I understand that you have a lot of catching up to do with Greg and you have a lot more responsibility with the team now and you're getting really busy. There's nothing I can do about it. And there will come a time when you leave for good. You're not always going to be around. There's nothing I can do about that either. But we don't live by timelines. We can still get together for a week a year for the next three hundred years."
"Are you trying to guilt trip me into coming up more?"
"Yes," Duncan admitted. "Is it working?"
"Starting to."
"I'll miss you, Rich. You better get going."
"Now you're going to do the whole avoidance thing."
"Call me when you get there and tell me what you think."
"Think about what?"
"The team house."
"I think it' where I get to live rent-free for the next year."
Duncan just looked at Richie, he would miss the boy. "Bye, Richie."
"Bye, Mac." Richie knew he'd be talking with Mac frequently and would see him fairly soon, but he still missed the time where it was just him, Mac and Tessa everyday. He picked up the last bag and placed in the car, gave Duncan a hug and climbed in. He started the CD player and drove off, ready for his junior year of college.
AN: I know what you're all thinking. "What happened to his sophomore year? I'll tell you what happened. nothing. But Junior year.. Well, that's going to be something to look forward to. And to all those asking about Heather and immortality; yes, she will learn about immortals and that Richie is one of them. You just have to be patient.