Ohmygod.

Could it be?

An UPDATE!

Hope you like it….

Sienna

Chapter Eight: Freddy Thinks Less Than Highly of His Parents

I try to read Katie's face while she reads the paper. I didn't really mean to bring it to her, only I didn't want anyone getting on the bus to see.

Her eyes scan the pink sheet—her least favorite color, even I know that—with a bad black-and-white version of her school picture on it. MISSING, it says in big letters. KATHERINE ELIZABETH BROWN. Age: 12, (almost 13), height: 5'2", weight: 110, hair: brown, eyes: brown. Heh, her last name is her hair and eye color…no Freddy, be serious….

A little laugh escapes Katie, though it sounds weak and forced. She looks at me.

"Well, at least we know they're looking for us," she says.

"You," I correct. "They're looking for you. Do you see my name anywhere on there?"

She reads it again. "No…I guess not…."

I sit back and cross my arms. "Figures."

"I'm sure your parents are looking for you too, Freddy," she says reassuringly. "They probably just didn't put posters up…I mean, really, posters are so old…."

"No," I said. "Don't bother, Brown. They're not and I know they're not. They're enjoying this time alone while I'm out here possibly getting myself killed."

"Freddy…" She puts a hand on my shoulder. I jump a little, because she's touching me and her face seems so close and…I don't know. I just look at her.

"They do care about you," she says, staring straight into my eyes. "They have to. It's like the law or something."

I try to laugh, but it comes out more like a scoff. Katie backs away. Dammit. "I'm sorry. I know they do," I lie. "They just don't act like it."

"Neither do mine sometimes," she says. "It's okay."

She takes the paper and folds it carefully, smoothing out each crease before tucking it into her backpack. Then she stands up, stretching.

"Not trying to be insensitive or anything," she says, "but I think my bladder is about to burst."

I laugh for real this time. "Okay…."

She points her finger at me. "If I'm not back by the time the bus comes, send a search party." She pauses, and then we both laugh (somewhat nervously), because there already is a search party for her, isn't there?

I watch Katie disappear into the woods, then go my own way—not as far, though—and take care of business. Walking back, it sounds like I'm some massive bear lumbering through the woods with all the noise I make, not a kind of skinny 12-year-old kid. Someone could hear that. Hell, someone in Australia could hear that. I try to step more lightly, but it doesn't really work.

I'm first back to our packs. Poor Katie…it must suck being a girl, at least when you have to pee in the woods.

Although, I admit, I'm pretty glad she's not a guy….

She'd be a really girly guy, even if she's not a girly girl….

We could call her Kyle…or Kenneth…Kenny!

"You look thoughtful, Fredward," Katie says, suddenly appearing next to me. How does she walk so quietly?

"Does that scare you, Kenny?"

She blinks.

"Who's Kenny?"

"You. I decided it. It's your name?"

"Oh." Pause. "And all these years I thought it was 'Katie'…."

"Well, you were wrong," I say, opening the backpack and digging into the more-than-half-empty Doritos bag.

Katie helps herself. "Apparently…you know, I had a really weird dream last night. Or this afternoon, whatever." Crunch, crunch. "You were in it."

"Really?"

"Yep."

I waited a second, but she didn't say anything, and of course now I wanted to know. "What happened?"

Crunch, crunch. "I'll tell you later. Is that the bus?"

"Oh," I say, as the gray and blue bus rounds the corner. There's one other guy at the bus stop, who's completely absorbed into a conversation on his cell phone. Good, he probably didn't hear us talking way too loud. Katie pokes my ribs and points to the man; we eavesdrop curiously.

"I just don't understand him, Cheryl. This directing business isn't going to get him anywhere—no, don't defend it. You know I'm right—well, you saw that film he made last year. Our son isn't exactly the next Steven Spielberg…. He needs to study something sensible in college. I think political science could—what are you yelling at me for!"

"I guess Mr. Mooneyhams are mass produced," I say. You could replace Zack's dad with this briefcase-toting, besuited man and no one would know the difference.

The bus opens its doors. The man flashes a pass as he gets on board, Katie doles out a few dollar bills and we take our pick of the mostly-empty seats.

I have to sit in the back. I'm sorry, it's just how I roll.

Katie sighs as we flop into our seats. "It must suck to really have your parents not support you."

"Yep. Does."

"Mine don't think music's the greatest thing ever, but I think they kind of understand why I love it so much…as long as I keep the rest of my life together, they don't complain, you know?"

"Yeah, you're lucky. You got reasonable ones." The bus pulls away from the curb, rattling and wheezing like someone sickly.

"Hah. I guess they're not so bad…"

I pick at imaginary dirt on my cuff. "Let's not talk about parents now."

She bites her lip and looks at me with those big brown eyes. "Okay," she says unsurely. "I'm—I'm sorry if—"

"No, no," I say, shaking my head. "You didn't say anything wrong. I just don't want them to ruin my adventure."

"Oh, right."

I smile at her and pat her hand. She turns her palm up and we squeeze hands. The bus rocks as it charges through piles of slush, dirt spattering the gray window. Her pink nose and cheeks look so bright against that backdrop, and I'm glad to have her hand in mine—a simple reminder that we're in this together.