Chapter.2
The rain had stopped, at last. A damp chill was in the air, carrying the heavy scent of pine and wet woods smells one can never describe but recognizes easily.
The first thing Lucas thought when his head began to clear, was, "What a dream!" because he imagined he was sleeping under a steadily dripping tree in the middle of the rain forest.
But the pain pulsing steadily along his temple denied that.
He raised his left wrist, trying to read the time, but his hands were shaking with cold, so he braced it on his knees and made out 9:30 p.m.
The moon was lacing it's way through the branches; it fell over his shoulders and revealed a dirt stained, water sodden jacket, torn jeans and begrimed blue pullover. Lucas absently noticed that his shoe was untied.
The ground was sprinkled with pine needles and small debris, but it was mostly thick, gooey clay. No wonder he had fallen.
Finally he raised tentative fingers to the source of his discomfort, childishly afraid of what he might find.
A good sized gash; luckily the bleeding had slowed, due in part, no doubt, to the cold. The pain was caused by swelling, however. He almost laughed, recalling long hours spent reading The Hardy Boys Mysteries; how Frank or Joe were knocked over the head in practically every book, with lumps of varying sizes.
Lucas carefully wiped some blood off his forehead and tried to think warm. Shivering made his head ache worse.
Karen must be worried sick. Uncle Keith was probably close to calling out a search party.
"It would be-" he got to his knees, then wrapped an arm around the sheltering pine and stood-"just my luck that somebody-aah-passed me when I was asleep. Unconscious."
No sooner spoken, and his wish was granted. Down the road wafted faint strains of an unforgettable musical style.
"Peyton?"
Lucas struggled to the top of the slope and stared into the wind, wondering if his ears had tricked him. Two tiny yellow dots winked into view. He stepped onto the side of the road, pulling his jacket close. And waited.
The black car started to pass him, sped up, then jerked into reverse. Peyton hung out the window, her light hair tossing softly about her face. Lucas thought of the angel that perched atop the Christmas tree in town every winter, then caught himself as Peyton repeated, "What the heck are you doing up here?"
Lucas wet dry lips and shook his head. "Broke down. Ways back."
Peyton frowned. "You couldn't be any muddier if you'd slept out here."
He almost smiled. "Yes."
"Well, I'm on my way in. Here." She twisted lightly in her seat and pulled a wildly colored throw from some where. "You can sit on this."
"Thanks." Lucas slid his slender frame onto the blanket and tucked his hands into it's folds. Peyton swung out onto the road and eyed him curiously.
"How long have you been out here?"
"Couple of hours." He closed his eyes. "Fell down a hill, it was so dang slippery." He laughed, a low, quiet sound that Peyton felt hid a lot.
"You okay?"
Lucas leaned forward. "You care?"
"Hey, I make it a habit never to kick stray dogs. But that's about my limit."
His face had softened as he watched the familiar pattern fall into place. Whenever Peyton gave a hint of opening up, something froze and she reverted to her normal, flippant self.
"Thanks for picking me up."
She shrugged. "I guess I owed you one. Hate debts."
"You and me both."
She smiled. Lucas felt a silly little leap of happiness, quickly squelched by the uneven road.
Peyton glanced across at him. Lucas's hair was dark blond, dripping, shadows contrasting sharply over his unusually pale face. He put a hand to his forehead, lent forward for a breath.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Fine." His voice was so low she had to lean slightly to catch it. Low; one thing she'd never quite thought about before. Lucas's entire manner could be so low key one hardly noticed him; but his gentleness seemed genuine, never-ending. A fact a lot of girls don't quite appreciate until they've run up against it.
"What are you doing out this way?"
Lucas's question broke her surprised reverie. "I just wanted to get out."
"Out?"
"Out. Out of town. Out of there."
"Sometimes I want to, too. But then I realize I'm not out, because what I'm really running away from is inside of me."
"Where did you dig that up?"
He shrugged. "I think everyone is running away from something."
Peyton stared at him, but his eyes never left the darkened landscape. She reached out and slid a CD in.
Lucas relaxed in his seat, starting to warm, feeling strangely drowsy. Peyton punched his shoulder."Almost there."
He smiled, but already he was drifting away...[]
"Lucas." A tendril of light hair played against his cheek; he smiled faintly and sat up. Peyton was so close their noses practically touched.
"We're back inside the walls." She flipped through a worn leather CD case, barely muttered,"of our cages."[]
The rain had stopped, at last. A damp chill was in the air, carrying the heavy scent of pine and wet woods smells one can never describe but recognizes easily.
The first thing Lucas thought when his head began to clear, was, "What a dream!" because he imagined he was sleeping under a steadily dripping tree in the middle of the rain forest.
But the pain pulsing steadily along his temple denied that.
He raised his left wrist, trying to read the time, but his hands were shaking with cold, so he braced it on his knees and made out 9:30 p.m.
The moon was lacing it's way through the branches; it fell over his shoulders and revealed a dirt stained, water sodden jacket, torn jeans and begrimed blue pullover. Lucas absently noticed that his shoe was untied.
The ground was sprinkled with pine needles and small debris, but it was mostly thick, gooey clay. No wonder he had fallen.
Finally he raised tentative fingers to the source of his discomfort, childishly afraid of what he might find.
A good sized gash; luckily the bleeding had slowed, due in part, no doubt, to the cold. The pain was caused by swelling, however. He almost laughed, recalling long hours spent reading The Hardy Boys Mysteries; how Frank or Joe were knocked over the head in practically every book, with lumps of varying sizes.
Lucas carefully wiped some blood off his forehead and tried to think warm. Shivering made his head ache worse.
Karen must be worried sick. Uncle Keith was probably close to calling out a search party.
"It would be-" he got to his knees, then wrapped an arm around the sheltering pine and stood-"just my luck that somebody-aah-passed me when I was asleep. Unconscious."
No sooner spoken, and his wish was granted. Down the road wafted faint strains of an unforgettable musical style.
"Peyton?"
Lucas struggled to the top of the slope and stared into the wind, wondering if his ears had tricked him. Two tiny yellow dots winked into view. He stepped onto the side of the road, pulling his jacket close. And waited.
The black car started to pass him, sped up, then jerked into reverse. Peyton hung out the window, her light hair tossing softly about her face. Lucas thought of the angel that perched atop the Christmas tree in town every winter, then caught himself as Peyton repeated, "What the heck are you doing up here?"
Lucas wet dry lips and shook his head. "Broke down. Ways back."
Peyton frowned. "You couldn't be any muddier if you'd slept out here."
He almost smiled. "Yes."
"Well, I'm on my way in. Here." She twisted lightly in her seat and pulled a wildly colored throw from some where. "You can sit on this."
"Thanks." Lucas slid his slender frame onto the blanket and tucked his hands into it's folds. Peyton swung out onto the road and eyed him curiously.
"How long have you been out here?"
"Couple of hours." He closed his eyes. "Fell down a hill, it was so dang slippery." He laughed, a low, quiet sound that Peyton felt hid a lot.
"You okay?"
Lucas leaned forward. "You care?"
"Hey, I make it a habit never to kick stray dogs. But that's about my limit."
His face had softened as he watched the familiar pattern fall into place. Whenever Peyton gave a hint of opening up, something froze and she reverted to her normal, flippant self.
"Thanks for picking me up."
She shrugged. "I guess I owed you one. Hate debts."
"You and me both."
She smiled. Lucas felt a silly little leap of happiness, quickly squelched by the uneven road.
Peyton glanced across at him. Lucas's hair was dark blond, dripping, shadows contrasting sharply over his unusually pale face. He put a hand to his forehead, lent forward for a breath.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Fine." His voice was so low she had to lean slightly to catch it. Low; one thing she'd never quite thought about before. Lucas's entire manner could be so low key one hardly noticed him; but his gentleness seemed genuine, never-ending. A fact a lot of girls don't quite appreciate until they've run up against it.
"What are you doing out this way?"
Lucas's question broke her surprised reverie. "I just wanted to get out."
"Out?"
"Out. Out of town. Out of there."
"Sometimes I want to, too. But then I realize I'm not out, because what I'm really running away from is inside of me."
"Where did you dig that up?"
He shrugged. "I think everyone is running away from something."
Peyton stared at him, but his eyes never left the darkened landscape. She reached out and slid a CD in.
Lucas relaxed in his seat, starting to warm, feeling strangely drowsy. Peyton punched his shoulder."Almost there."
He smiled, but already he was drifting away...[]
"Lucas." A tendril of light hair played against his cheek; he smiled faintly and sat up. Peyton was so close their noses practically touched.
"We're back inside the walls." She flipped through a worn leather CD case, barely muttered,"of our cages."[]
