Author: Katydidit
Email: NobodysFol2507@yahoo.com
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence...that may change...*shrug*
Genre:Drama/Angst
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans.
Disclaimer: Not mine. *sigh*
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though. Maybe in later chapter?
A/N: *wipes eyes* You reviewers are soo nice! Muchas gracias, gente! Also, I *realize* that some of the song choices are maybe not exactly correct (as they probably hadn't come out when the kids were thirteen), but can you please bear with me? Oh, and something I've learned this morning: when eating high-fiber cereal because it's the only cereal in the house, *do not look at what you're eating except to check for bugs*. This cereal is nasty... lmao. At least it's bug-free.... Oh. And I can *not* remember Mr. Evans' name...I know Max's mom's is Diane, but...does anyone else remember?
Things Aren't Always What They Seem
Chapter Three
The next morning, Michael was awakened, not by his alarm clock, but by Hank roaring in the next room. Stomach sinking, he trudged out to see what was going on.
"What are you talking about! I don't owe no one no goddamn money! You tell whatshisface that if he wants to talk to me, he should talk to me himself, not send some wimpy little twig to do it! Yes I *did* just call you a—I bet you will!" Hank slammed the receiver down and spun around to glare at Michael. "Whattaya want?"
"Nothing."
"Then beat it!" He started forward menacingly, and Michael skittered back to his room. A few minutes later, dressed in relatively clean clothes, he slunk out of the trailer, this time remembering to grab the crackers.
***
"Michael, you're earlier than usual..." Max said, when he opened the door.
"Hank was being a dick..."
"What else is new? Did you already have breakfast?"
Michael unconsciously brushed the cracker crumbs off of his shirt. "Yeah."
"Well, we're just starting breakfast, if you're still hungry?"
"No. I'm fine."
"Then you can watch tv or something..."
Michael thought about this. Sit by himself in the living room while the Evanses gathered around the kitchen table, talking and laughing...being a family? No thanks.
"You know what? I think I'm just going to walk to school."
Max narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"Seriously. I...need the exercise."
"Umm...okay... See you later, then... I guess."
Michael turned and strode back down the walk, heading for the school. Maxwell could be so dense sometimes. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, watching his feet. He was paying so little attention that he ran into someone, knocking them to the ground. This shook him from his thoughts, and he looked at the person on the ground. It was, of course, Liz.
"Oops," he said, holding out his hand to help her up. She hesitated for a second, then took it, brushing herself off. "You okay?"
"I'm fine. Where are you going?"
"The bar."
She studied him for a second, a small smile on her lips. "So he does have a sense of humor."
"Why are you walking to school?"
She shrugged. "Felt like it."
"Fine. Me too."
"Fine." She started walking. "So. We have that test today."
"What test?"
"The one in science."
He shrugged, and she was silent for a while.
"Where's Max? I mean, aren't you two usually together?"
"He's having breakfast with his family. Didn't want to intrude. Where's Kyle?"
"I dunno. Probably at home. He got suspended."
"What a shame. He's such a great guy."
She scoffed. "Yeah, I know."
"Then why are you with him?"
She shrugged.
"Are you afraid of him?"
She looked up quickly. "What kind of question is that?"
"The kind you answer."
She looked away and began walking quickly. Michael quickened his pace to match hers, staying close at her side. "Are you? 'Cause you're acting like you are."
She didn't answer, so he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She winced and jerked away, rubbing her shoulder.
"Sorry."
She shook her head. "It wasn't you..."
"Oh."
"Am I afraid of him? Not...really. He's a big coward. He's just...really big."
"Does he ever pull crap on you?"
"No. I said he was a coward."
"Fine, fine..."
"Why are you worried about it, anyway?"
"Because people like you shouldn't have to be afraid of anything more than you have to."
She nodded silently and began walking. Michael noticed that she was still rubbing her shoulder absently.
"What happened?"
"What?" She looked confused.
"To your arm."
"Oh. Who do you think?"
"Let's see."
She looked away and tugged at the collar of her shirt, exposing her shoulder. It was dark blue, with a purple handprint in the center. He traced it carefully, but she still winced and pulled away. They continued in silence until they reached the school.
"So what's the apple look like?"
She scoffed and pulled the most perfect apple Michael had ever seen from her bag. They stared at it for a minute, and then Liz's features twisted and she heaved it away from her. It landed with a satisfying splat a distance away.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I always am. I have to." Her voice was bitter. "See you later, Michael." She headed into the school.
***
The last class of the day was science-home of the infamous quiz. Liz was first in the room, of course, and, by some odd fluke, Michael was second. He slouched in his seat (which was-big shock-next to Liz). The teacher must have hoped that Liz's studious-ness would rub off on him. In any case, it must have been a funny picture-the 'reject' in torn denim, slouching next to the bookworm. He glanced over at Liz. She was flipping frantically through her notes one last time. He leaned over.
"Liz."
She looked up reluctantly. "What?"
"Why are you worried? You always do good on tests. You've got this one in the bag."
She shrugged and returned to flipping. Once everyone had entered the room, the teacher began passing out the tests, and it began.
***
Finally, every test paper but one had been turned in-and that one was, of course-Liz's. The teacher dismissed the rest of the class, and stood in front of Liz's desk, hands on hips. Michael went as slowly as he possibly could.
"Your test, Elizabeth."
"I'm not-done..."
"Everyone else finished theirs in one class period-even Mister Guerin over there. Your test, Miss Parker."
Liz reluctantly handed her the packet, and stood, gathering her books. She moved quickly, but Michael caught the tears in her eyes.
Outside the classroom, Max and Isabel were at his locker, waiting impatiently.
"Come *on*, Michael. We're going to miss the bus!" Isabel whined.
"I'm walking, Blondie."
"I am too," Max piped up. Isabel looked at them in disbelief. "Then I'll be alone."
"You won't be alone. You have the hens."
"Don't call them that!" Isabel exclaimed, stomping her foot. Michael and Max began making clucking noises. She growled in frustration and stomped away. Max laughed and leaned on the locker next to Michael's.
"Why are you walking, Michael?"
"Feel like it. You?"
"Feel like it."
"Whatever." He put his books away and turned to go. Liz was still at her locker, moving slower than usual. He headed over, as did Max.
"What's wrong, Liz?" Max asked, forgetting to be shy in his concern.
"Nothing. Why?"
"You're crying."
"No, I'm not..."
Max reached out and gently touched a teartrail. "What's this, then?"
"I hit my eye with the corner of my folder."
"Now you sound like Michael."
"Michael doesn't cry," Liz sniffled, smiling.
Alex came running up to them. "Liz! How'd it go?"
Liz stood up, sliding her backpack onto her shoulder and closing her locker, then turned around and shook her head, looking at her feet. Alex sighed and pulled her to him for a hug.
"I'll be fine, Alex. I have a while before she passes the tests back."
"Still... Want me to walk home with you?"
"You have auditions for your band."
"I can reschedule."
"No. You've been waiting all year for this-you said this was the only time you could get the auditorium."
"You're more important."
Liz laughed and hugged him. "No. I'll be fine."
"Call me later, then."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine."
"Thank you."
"Now go find a triangle player."
"Drummer, Liz."
She laughed. "The triangle's better."
"Stupid girl," he teased, kissing her cheek before dashing off.
"Are you walking home?" Max asked shyly. Liz nodded.
"We'll come with you, then," Michael said quickly, pushing them towards the stairwell.
***
They were mostly quiet on the walk home-Max, being the semi-loser he was, seemed to just be enjoying walking next to Liz. Michael heard the argument even before they were standing in front of the Crashdown. Liz locked eyes with him worriedly, then paused before entering. Mrs. Parker came into view, pushing the door open and smiling at the three of them.
"Hi, boys. How was school?"
"Fine," they mumbled. She nodded and handed a sheet of paper to Liz.
"Baby, the Crashdown is out of a few things, and the next shipment is tomorrow. Can you run out and get them, please?"
Liz nodded, looking past her mother into the dimness of the restaurant. Footsteps approached them, and her mother pulled her close for a hug, and then pushed her backwards. Liz stumbled, but Max kept her from falling.
"Baby, just go. Now." A hint of urgency entered her otherwise calm voice.
Liz nodded. "Love you, Mom."
"I know, Baby. Love you too."
Mrs. Parker returned to the interior of the restaurant, and Liz began walking quickly. Michael again adjusted his pace easily, but it took Max a few steps.
"So you're going to the store?" Max asked. Liz nodded. "I have to go home... Isabel has a dance recital." He sounded disappointed. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"'Bye Max," Liz replied, smiling at him. He nodded and headed home. Liz and Michael continued walking.
"So what do you guys need?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"Then what-?"
"It's a code. It means to get lost for a few hours."
"Does your dad...hit your mom?"
"Not that I know of. Mostly they just argue."
"Don't you ever worry-?"
Liz stopped in her tracks. "Of course I worry, Michael. I worry every goddamn night that one day he'll lose his temper and kill her, so it'd just be us. I worry every stupid minute of every fucking day!"
Michael just stared at her in shock. Liz Parker knew *swear words*? She seemed to realize what she said, and clasped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. He laughed and continued walking. They turned into the same park as the other night, but this time Liz headed for the swings. He stood there for a second, and then sat on the swing next to her. She began pumping, and was soon going twice as high as he was. As he watched, she leaned back so she was practically laying down.
"What are you doing?"
She sat up slowly, dragging her feet in the dirt. "Try it. It feels like you're flying."
He leaned back, watching the ground fly up at him, then the sky. It was kind of like flying...in a way. He sat up and looked over at Liz, who was laying down again, the very end of her hair trailing in the dirt. She looked up at his face and began laughing.
"What?"
"You have dirt-on your-face..." she giggled.
"What's so funny about that?" He asked, swiping at his face. She looked at him and laughed harder.
"What now?"
"You've just-made it worse!" She stood up and wiped her finger across his cheek, right under his eye.
"Is it gone now, or what?" Michael asked, almost sorry that her gentle touch was gone.
"It's gone. You're such a boy."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
"What's wrong with being a boy?"
"Nothing at all." She grinned, and he swiped at her. She jumped up and took a few steps away from him. He watched as she began twirling, face upturned.
"The hell are you doing?"
"Didn't you ever do this when you were little? Spin and spin until you fell?"
"No."
"You missed out, Guerin."
He was silent, watching as she spun, then fell to the ground, laughing. He joined her, looking up at the sky. They were quiet for a while, and when Michael looked over at Liz, tears were running down her face. He sat up immediately.
"What's wrong?"
"N-nothing." She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. "I haven't done that since I was seven."
Michael was silent, mildly uncomfortable at the situation. When had he decided that it was his job to hang out with Perfect Parker? She seemed to pick up on his thoughts-how did she *do* that-and wiped her eyes.
"I'm fine-It's just...things were better then. If you want to go home, you can go."
Great. He *did* want to get out of there, but that would mean just leaving her alone.
"I'll be fine. I'd prefer to be alone, anyway..."
Whew. "If you're sure..."
"I'm sure."
"Okay." He stood up, picking a long strand of grass out of her hair and tossing it in her lap. "See you later."
She nodded, picking the grass apart.
*** Michael kicked at a rock on the way back to the trailer park. Those two sides of him were wrestling again.
God, Guerin. You're such a wuss. You can't even stick around to comfort a crying girl?
Since when is it my job to look out for Perfect Parker? Since never. Therefore I had no reason to stick around. She's a loser, anyway.
You know that's not true, dumbass. And it became your job that night when you looked at her like that.
How the hell did I look at her?
Like you cared.
How would I know what that looks like?
Just quit, okay? Stop playing the part of the pathetic little outcast with no family. There are tons of people who care about you. Max. Isabel. Their parents. Liz...
Whoa whoa whoa. Where'd this come from?
You saw how she looked at you. You guys made some kind of connection that night. You can't turn your back on that.
The hell are you talking about? Connection? We swapped stories and compared bruises.
No answer. Which only left him to think about what he meant. What kind of connection could he have made? Surely not like the ones he and Max and Izzy made when they were little, playing with their powers. What else was there? He shook his head and kicked at another rock. Then it occurred to him that 1) he had just listened to an argument in his head that he hadn't really participated in, and 2) he was now thinking about what was said in that argument. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Stupid Parker...
***
The next day was mostly uneventful, until lunchtime. Michael was again digging through his locker for the makeshift lunch he'd grabbed just before Hank had chased him out of the house. He thought he was the only one in the hallway, until he heard a stack of books fall and a familiar voice swear quietly. He spun around. Sure enough, Liz was standing amongst her textbooks, glaring down at them as though they had done it purposely. But there was something off about her...the way she was holding herself... Michael couldn't put his finger on it, but she looked... different. He went over to her and knelt, grabbing the science textbook.
"Here..." He said. Not looking him in the eye, she took it, sliding it into the bottom of the locker. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replied quietly, closing her locker and standing up. "Have a good lunch."
"Liz, wait." He grabbed her upper arm, and she jerked away. "Tell me. What's wrong?"
"I did tell you. I'm fine."
Of course, Alex chose this moment to run up to Liz and throw his arms around her.
"You didn't call me last night, Miss Parker. I was scared to death all night-what's wrong?" Liz's face was contorted in a grimace of pain. Alex immediately let her go, running his hands through her hair. "I'm sorry..."
"It's fine. You just...hug really tightly..." she gave a weak smile and put her arm around him.
"Come on. Maria's probably replaced my Fritos with a wheatgrass smoothie or something."
Liz made a face and they left. Michael sighed and grabbed the tattered brown bag in his locker and slammed the door, heading down to find Max.
***
After the last class had ended and the crowd in the hallway had thinned, there were still three students tinkering around by their lockers.
"Michael, I thought teenage girls were supposed to worry about exercising all the time-not guys," Max said, leaning, once more, on the locker next to Michael's.
"Bite me, Maxwell. So I don't want to ride the bus. Sue me."
"Calm down there, Tiger. I was kidding." He at the locker right across the hall from Michael's. "So why do you think Liz is always walking?"
"Teenage girls and all that," Michael said, slamming his locker. He noticed how Liz's shoulder blades seemed to tense at the noise, so he headed over. "Why're you stalling, Parker?" Liz jumped once more and looked at him.
"I am not stalling."
"You've just refolded that homework assignment five times."
Liz glanced down at the paper in her hands and shoved it in her pocket. "Your point? Hi, Max." She smiled warmly at Max, setting his ears aflame. She laughed quietly, reaching up to push her hair behind her ear. Her sleeve pulled up, revealing a trail of cuts. Michael grabbed her arm, gently yanking the sleeve further up and forgetting about Max. Almost the whole length of her arm was covered in angry red scratches.
"Must have been a hell of an apple," Michael challenged. Liz jerked her arm away angrily, slamming her locker shut and heading down the hall. "What's wrong, Parker?"
She spun around and glared at him. "Michael, stop! You don't care! I can see it in your eyes! Give it the hell up, allright? I get it. Now leave me alone." She turned and stormed out. He, of course followed her outside, with Max trailing them.
"What the hell do you mean, I don't care?"
"It's fine. Just leave me alone."
He chased her halfway down the street before he realized the absurdity of the whole thing and reached out with his mind and tripped her. He then easily caught up with her and held out his hand. She ignored it and stood up on her own. "What do you want?"
"What'd you do with the apple?"
"Why do you care?"
"Did you throw it out?"
"Michael, there was no fucking apple, okay?"
"What?" Max looked a bit taken aback by the fact that Liz had sworn, but Michael was more shocked by her words.
"There wasn't one."
"Why?"
"She's gone, Michael. My mom."
"Where'd she go?"
"I got home yesterday, and she'd taken off... she left a note-she's gone to Tulsa."
*That's* what was different about Liz's posture-she looked defeated, betrayed. Michael was silent.
"Are you happy?"
"Wh-of course not."
"Whatever." Liz sighed. "I'm going now."
"Liz, your mom is gone?"
Welcome to the conversation, Maxie Boy, Michael thought. Liz looked up, shocked. She must have forgotten all about him.
"Um...yeah." She smiled.
"Why? And what's wrong with your arm?"
"I scratched myself last night in my sleep. I do that a lot." She smiled winningly at Max. She was so much better at lying than Michael was... Max glanced at her hand-and Michael realized that her nails were chewed down just as she did. She smiled and balled her hand into a fist, hiding her fingers.
"You don't have nails."
Liz shrugged, obviously unsure how to answer that one. Max studied her face.
"Liz, do you think you can help me with the math homework? I could go over your house."
Liz looked cornered. "Uh-I'm...not supposed to have friends over on school nights."
"What if it was for homework, and then I left? Would your dad let you then?"
She winced. "No. He wouldn't."
Max looked semi-triumphant, and Michael stepped in. "Maxwell, what if she went over to your house?"
Liz nodded slightly. "I could do that..."
"Okay. Then you could stay for dinner and my dad and I could drive you home on our way to drop Michael off."
She was cornered again. "No. I can walk home. Your house isn't far from the Crashdown."
"We'll figure that out later... Just, come on." He started towards his house, and Liz slowly followed.
***
"Momma, Dad? I'm home!" Max yelled as they walked in the door. Mrs. Evans came in from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishcloth.
"Hey, Max. How was school?"
"The usual," Max replied, making a face. His mother laughed, then looked at Michael and Liz.
"Michael, honey, can you take off your shoes, please? How was school?"
Michael kicked off his boots and mumbled something.
"How lovely. Liz, how were your classes?"
Liz turned red. "Fine, thank you."
"Are you two staying for dinner?"
"Yes, Momma. They are. Is that okay?"
"That's perfect!" A buzzer rang in the kitchen. "Oh! Gotta go. Nice to have you here, Liz." She smiled at her and dashed out, and Max dumped his backpack on the floor, plopping down at the coffee table and unfolding the sheet of homework they had to do. Liz sat on the other side of the table and did the same. Michael flung himself onto the couch and turned the television on, which was the only noise except the occasional tutelage from one bookworm to the other on how to solve this problem more quickly, or how to find the answer to that one. After a while, Mrs. Evans came into the living room.
"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt you, but come eat." She smiled. For some reason, Liz paled.
"Omigosh!" She exclaimed quietly.
"What's wrong, honey?" Mrs. Evans asked, ushering the boys into the kitchen.
"I didn't call my dad. Mrs. Evans, could I please use your phone? It'd just be a minute."
"Of course. It's right there. We'll wait for you, okay?"
"Yes. Thank you very much."
Mrs. Evans went into the kitchen and sat at the table, lightly smacking her husband's hand when he reached for the spaghetti noodles.
"What?"
"We're waiting for out guest."
Mr. Evans looked confused. "Who... Michael's here already."
"Liz Parker is over."
Mr. Evans grinned at Max. "Way to go, Max," he teased, elbowing him in the side.
"That girl is so polite," Max's mother gushed. "You three could stand to take lessons from her."
Max made a face at her, and Michael snorted.
"Where's Izzy?"
"She's at a friend's."
"Which one?" Michael asked. Mr. Evans made a face.
"Don't they all look the same to you?"
"Hey!" Diane said, glaring at him. He laughed and held his hands out in surrender.
"Sorry, honey, but its true..." He laughed, and looked up as Liz quietly entered the kitchen, chewing her lip.
"Everything okay, honey?" Max's mom asked her, gesturing towards the seat next to her husband.
"Yes, ma'm."
"That's good. Okay, everyone, say grace." Everyone took the hand of the person next to them, Liz's small hand swallowed up by Mr. Evans'. They said the customary prayer (Michael never really listened), and began eating. Liz only took a very small portion, and only picked at that, looking distracted and worried.
"Something wrong, Liz?" Max's mother asked, looking concerned.
"I don't blame you," Mr. Evans said, leaning over. "I'm afraid of this stuff too," He laughed and ducked a flying napkin. Liz looked up.
"Oh no, Ma'm. This is...great. You're a good cook. I'm just not very hungry..."
"Are you sure? Because if you are, you'd better eat it now, or, knowing these guys, it'll disappear off your plate before you get the chance."
"No, I'm very sure." Liz smiled at her. "But may I help you with the dishes?"
Diane looked shocked, then turned to her husband and son. "Do you hear that?" She turned back to Liz. "I'm going to adopt you, okay, honey?"
Liz flushed and returned her eyes to her plate.
When the dinner was over and the table was cleared, Liz and Mrs. Evans were standing at the sink, up to their elbows in soapy water. Max had brought his half-finished homework in to the kitchen table, and was mostly watching Liz, who was scrubbing at the dishes, looking very serious. Diane looked over her shoulder and winked and Michael, then splashed a little water at Liz, who flinched, then looked up and smiled softly.
"You look so serious," Mrs. Evans said, laughing. Liz shrugged and returned to the dishes. "Don't you boys want to go in there and watch the game with Mr. Evans?"
They shook their heads. Max would obviously rather watch Liz, and the way Mr. Evans got all worked up about a bad play reminded Michael of the way Hank got sometimes-loud Not violent. Mr. Evans would never hurt a fly.
"Okay..." She said, handing Liz a dishtowel. "Here, how about I wash and you dry? It'll go faster." Liz nodded. She was in the middle of drying a plate, when obviously Mr. Evans' team didn't score.
"Useless bum! What are you doing on this team? You *had* that one, and you let them knock it out!"
Liz jumped and the plate slid out of her hands. She immediately dropped to her knees to pick up the shards. "I'm so so so so sorry! I didn't-it was an accident! I-"
Mrs. Evans reached behind the refrigerator to get the broom. "It's fine, honey. Oh, don't pick that up with your hands-you'll cut yourself. I've got a broom-let me sweep."
Liz glanced up, face pale and eyes dark with fear, then nodded and stood, holding the large pieces of glass. Mr. Evans came in from the living room and put his hands on Liz's shoulders. She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, but neither of the parents noticed.
"What happened?"
"Just a casualty," Mrs. Evans said with a smile as she emptied the dustpan into the trash. "I keep telling you that you shouldn't get so worked up about those stupid games. You startled Liz."
He looked down at the girl under his hands. "Is this true?" he asked, in his mock-stern voice. Liz nodded slowly. "I don't believe you. I think my wife dropped the plate and is trying to frame you." Liz now shook her head vigorously.
"No, sir. It was me. I dropped it," she replied fearfully.
"Oh, okay." He laughed and returned to the living room. Mrs. Evans took the shards from Liz and threw them away, then looked at Liz, whose eyes were full of tears.
"Baby, it's fine," she laughed, gathering her into her arms for a hug. "It was just a plate. Do you know how many Max and Izzy-not to mention Michael- have dropped? I don't even have a matching set anymore. Don't worry about it!"
"You aren't going to tell my father?"
"Why would I do that?"
Liz shrugged and returned to the sink, picking up a fork to dry it. Diane looked over at Max and Michael for a second, then lightly squeezed Liz's shoulder before finishing the dishes. Liz barely winced.
***
Later that night, the phone rang, and Mr. Evans answered it.
"Is there an Elizabeth in the house?" he teased, handing Liz the phone. She listened for a little while, then answered quietly, so no one in the room could hear, then hung up.
"My dad says thank you very much for letting me come over today."
"You tell him he's very welcome. And so are you-whenever you want to come over."
Liz flushed and picked at her jeans. "Thank you. I should probably go now, though..."
"Are you sure?"
"My dad will need help with closing up the restaurant..."
"Okay. I'll drive you."
"That's okay. I can walk."
"Nonsense. It's dark out. You're not walking home alone in this."
"I'll be fine. I've done it before."
"So why tempt fate? I'm driving you." Mr. Evans crossed his arms. Liz looked frightened, until he crossed his eyes at her, and then she smiled a little. "Michael, you ready, son?"
Michael pretended to grumble about how he'd just gotten comfortable, but grinned and put his shoes on, poking Liz gently in the side.
***
After they'd dropped Liz off and Mr. Evans had waved to her father, they headed towards the trailer park.
"She's a nice girl," Mr. Evans said. "A bit highly-strung, though."
"Thanks to her dad," Michael mumbled.
"What?"
"I mean, her parents taught her all those manners."
"Right." He looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Like Hank taught you yours."
"What?"
"Nothing. Is she always that scared?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, when she dropped that plate, she looked like she thought we were going to beat her up or something."
Michael kept his eyes averted. "Probably from working in the Crashdown, you know? Not supposed to drop things there."
"Yeah, but people don't usually hit you when you do."
"Well, son, we're here. Looks like your fosterfather is at work again."
'Work', my ass, Michael thought wryly. He's at the bar. The check probably came today. "Yeah. Gotta put food on the table, you know?"
"I do. See you later, Michael."
"Bye, Mr. Evans."
He noticed that Mr. Evans didn't leave until he'd opened the door and made his way in. And what was he talking about-Hank teaching him manners like Liz's? Unless he knew. Oh, shit. If he knew, and he told someone, they'd take Michael away-probably to another home in another state. What would he do then, without Max or Iz? It'd be good if Mr. Evans told someone about Liz's father, though. She didn't deserve to get treated like that... Something deep in Michael told him that neither did he, but he knew he could take it. And anyway, his 'dad' wasn't even his real father. Liz's was, which made it all the worse.
Email: NobodysFol2507@yahoo.com
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence...that may change...*shrug*
Genre:Drama/Angst
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans.
Disclaimer: Not mine. *sigh*
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though. Maybe in later chapter?
A/N: *wipes eyes* You reviewers are soo nice! Muchas gracias, gente! Also, I *realize* that some of the song choices are maybe not exactly correct (as they probably hadn't come out when the kids were thirteen), but can you please bear with me? Oh, and something I've learned this morning: when eating high-fiber cereal because it's the only cereal in the house, *do not look at what you're eating except to check for bugs*. This cereal is nasty... lmao. At least it's bug-free.... Oh. And I can *not* remember Mr. Evans' name...I know Max's mom's is Diane, but...does anyone else remember?
Things Aren't Always What They Seem
Chapter Three
The next morning, Michael was awakened, not by his alarm clock, but by Hank roaring in the next room. Stomach sinking, he trudged out to see what was going on.
"What are you talking about! I don't owe no one no goddamn money! You tell whatshisface that if he wants to talk to me, he should talk to me himself, not send some wimpy little twig to do it! Yes I *did* just call you a—I bet you will!" Hank slammed the receiver down and spun around to glare at Michael. "Whattaya want?"
"Nothing."
"Then beat it!" He started forward menacingly, and Michael skittered back to his room. A few minutes later, dressed in relatively clean clothes, he slunk out of the trailer, this time remembering to grab the crackers.
***
"Michael, you're earlier than usual..." Max said, when he opened the door.
"Hank was being a dick..."
"What else is new? Did you already have breakfast?"
Michael unconsciously brushed the cracker crumbs off of his shirt. "Yeah."
"Well, we're just starting breakfast, if you're still hungry?"
"No. I'm fine."
"Then you can watch tv or something..."
Michael thought about this. Sit by himself in the living room while the Evanses gathered around the kitchen table, talking and laughing...being a family? No thanks.
"You know what? I think I'm just going to walk to school."
Max narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"Seriously. I...need the exercise."
"Umm...okay... See you later, then... I guess."
Michael turned and strode back down the walk, heading for the school. Maxwell could be so dense sometimes. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, watching his feet. He was paying so little attention that he ran into someone, knocking them to the ground. This shook him from his thoughts, and he looked at the person on the ground. It was, of course, Liz.
"Oops," he said, holding out his hand to help her up. She hesitated for a second, then took it, brushing herself off. "You okay?"
"I'm fine. Where are you going?"
"The bar."
She studied him for a second, a small smile on her lips. "So he does have a sense of humor."
"Why are you walking to school?"
She shrugged. "Felt like it."
"Fine. Me too."
"Fine." She started walking. "So. We have that test today."
"What test?"
"The one in science."
He shrugged, and she was silent for a while.
"Where's Max? I mean, aren't you two usually together?"
"He's having breakfast with his family. Didn't want to intrude. Where's Kyle?"
"I dunno. Probably at home. He got suspended."
"What a shame. He's such a great guy."
She scoffed. "Yeah, I know."
"Then why are you with him?"
She shrugged.
"Are you afraid of him?"
She looked up quickly. "What kind of question is that?"
"The kind you answer."
She looked away and began walking quickly. Michael quickened his pace to match hers, staying close at her side. "Are you? 'Cause you're acting like you are."
She didn't answer, so he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She winced and jerked away, rubbing her shoulder.
"Sorry."
She shook her head. "It wasn't you..."
"Oh."
"Am I afraid of him? Not...really. He's a big coward. He's just...really big."
"Does he ever pull crap on you?"
"No. I said he was a coward."
"Fine, fine..."
"Why are you worried about it, anyway?"
"Because people like you shouldn't have to be afraid of anything more than you have to."
She nodded silently and began walking. Michael noticed that she was still rubbing her shoulder absently.
"What happened?"
"What?" She looked confused.
"To your arm."
"Oh. Who do you think?"
"Let's see."
She looked away and tugged at the collar of her shirt, exposing her shoulder. It was dark blue, with a purple handprint in the center. He traced it carefully, but she still winced and pulled away. They continued in silence until they reached the school.
"So what's the apple look like?"
She scoffed and pulled the most perfect apple Michael had ever seen from her bag. They stared at it for a minute, and then Liz's features twisted and she heaved it away from her. It landed with a satisfying splat a distance away.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I always am. I have to." Her voice was bitter. "See you later, Michael." She headed into the school.
***
The last class of the day was science-home of the infamous quiz. Liz was first in the room, of course, and, by some odd fluke, Michael was second. He slouched in his seat (which was-big shock-next to Liz). The teacher must have hoped that Liz's studious-ness would rub off on him. In any case, it must have been a funny picture-the 'reject' in torn denim, slouching next to the bookworm. He glanced over at Liz. She was flipping frantically through her notes one last time. He leaned over.
"Liz."
She looked up reluctantly. "What?"
"Why are you worried? You always do good on tests. You've got this one in the bag."
She shrugged and returned to flipping. Once everyone had entered the room, the teacher began passing out the tests, and it began.
***
Finally, every test paper but one had been turned in-and that one was, of course-Liz's. The teacher dismissed the rest of the class, and stood in front of Liz's desk, hands on hips. Michael went as slowly as he possibly could.
"Your test, Elizabeth."
"I'm not-done..."
"Everyone else finished theirs in one class period-even Mister Guerin over there. Your test, Miss Parker."
Liz reluctantly handed her the packet, and stood, gathering her books. She moved quickly, but Michael caught the tears in her eyes.
Outside the classroom, Max and Isabel were at his locker, waiting impatiently.
"Come *on*, Michael. We're going to miss the bus!" Isabel whined.
"I'm walking, Blondie."
"I am too," Max piped up. Isabel looked at them in disbelief. "Then I'll be alone."
"You won't be alone. You have the hens."
"Don't call them that!" Isabel exclaimed, stomping her foot. Michael and Max began making clucking noises. She growled in frustration and stomped away. Max laughed and leaned on the locker next to Michael's.
"Why are you walking, Michael?"
"Feel like it. You?"
"Feel like it."
"Whatever." He put his books away and turned to go. Liz was still at her locker, moving slower than usual. He headed over, as did Max.
"What's wrong, Liz?" Max asked, forgetting to be shy in his concern.
"Nothing. Why?"
"You're crying."
"No, I'm not..."
Max reached out and gently touched a teartrail. "What's this, then?"
"I hit my eye with the corner of my folder."
"Now you sound like Michael."
"Michael doesn't cry," Liz sniffled, smiling.
Alex came running up to them. "Liz! How'd it go?"
Liz stood up, sliding her backpack onto her shoulder and closing her locker, then turned around and shook her head, looking at her feet. Alex sighed and pulled her to him for a hug.
"I'll be fine, Alex. I have a while before she passes the tests back."
"Still... Want me to walk home with you?"
"You have auditions for your band."
"I can reschedule."
"No. You've been waiting all year for this-you said this was the only time you could get the auditorium."
"You're more important."
Liz laughed and hugged him. "No. I'll be fine."
"Call me later, then."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine."
"Thank you."
"Now go find a triangle player."
"Drummer, Liz."
She laughed. "The triangle's better."
"Stupid girl," he teased, kissing her cheek before dashing off.
"Are you walking home?" Max asked shyly. Liz nodded.
"We'll come with you, then," Michael said quickly, pushing them towards the stairwell.
***
They were mostly quiet on the walk home-Max, being the semi-loser he was, seemed to just be enjoying walking next to Liz. Michael heard the argument even before they were standing in front of the Crashdown. Liz locked eyes with him worriedly, then paused before entering. Mrs. Parker came into view, pushing the door open and smiling at the three of them.
"Hi, boys. How was school?"
"Fine," they mumbled. She nodded and handed a sheet of paper to Liz.
"Baby, the Crashdown is out of a few things, and the next shipment is tomorrow. Can you run out and get them, please?"
Liz nodded, looking past her mother into the dimness of the restaurant. Footsteps approached them, and her mother pulled her close for a hug, and then pushed her backwards. Liz stumbled, but Max kept her from falling.
"Baby, just go. Now." A hint of urgency entered her otherwise calm voice.
Liz nodded. "Love you, Mom."
"I know, Baby. Love you too."
Mrs. Parker returned to the interior of the restaurant, and Liz began walking quickly. Michael again adjusted his pace easily, but it took Max a few steps.
"So you're going to the store?" Max asked. Liz nodded. "I have to go home... Isabel has a dance recital." He sounded disappointed. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"'Bye Max," Liz replied, smiling at him. He nodded and headed home. Liz and Michael continued walking.
"So what do you guys need?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"Then what-?"
"It's a code. It means to get lost for a few hours."
"Does your dad...hit your mom?"
"Not that I know of. Mostly they just argue."
"Don't you ever worry-?"
Liz stopped in her tracks. "Of course I worry, Michael. I worry every goddamn night that one day he'll lose his temper and kill her, so it'd just be us. I worry every stupid minute of every fucking day!"
Michael just stared at her in shock. Liz Parker knew *swear words*? She seemed to realize what she said, and clasped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. He laughed and continued walking. They turned into the same park as the other night, but this time Liz headed for the swings. He stood there for a second, and then sat on the swing next to her. She began pumping, and was soon going twice as high as he was. As he watched, she leaned back so she was practically laying down.
"What are you doing?"
She sat up slowly, dragging her feet in the dirt. "Try it. It feels like you're flying."
He leaned back, watching the ground fly up at him, then the sky. It was kind of like flying...in a way. He sat up and looked over at Liz, who was laying down again, the very end of her hair trailing in the dirt. She looked up at his face and began laughing.
"What?"
"You have dirt-on your-face..." she giggled.
"What's so funny about that?" He asked, swiping at his face. She looked at him and laughed harder.
"What now?"
"You've just-made it worse!" She stood up and wiped her finger across his cheek, right under his eye.
"Is it gone now, or what?" Michael asked, almost sorry that her gentle touch was gone.
"It's gone. You're such a boy."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
"What's wrong with being a boy?"
"Nothing at all." She grinned, and he swiped at her. She jumped up and took a few steps away from him. He watched as she began twirling, face upturned.
"The hell are you doing?"
"Didn't you ever do this when you were little? Spin and spin until you fell?"
"No."
"You missed out, Guerin."
He was silent, watching as she spun, then fell to the ground, laughing. He joined her, looking up at the sky. They were quiet for a while, and when Michael looked over at Liz, tears were running down her face. He sat up immediately.
"What's wrong?"
"N-nothing." She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. "I haven't done that since I was seven."
Michael was silent, mildly uncomfortable at the situation. When had he decided that it was his job to hang out with Perfect Parker? She seemed to pick up on his thoughts-how did she *do* that-and wiped her eyes.
"I'm fine-It's just...things were better then. If you want to go home, you can go."
Great. He *did* want to get out of there, but that would mean just leaving her alone.
"I'll be fine. I'd prefer to be alone, anyway..."
Whew. "If you're sure..."
"I'm sure."
"Okay." He stood up, picking a long strand of grass out of her hair and tossing it in her lap. "See you later."
She nodded, picking the grass apart.
*** Michael kicked at a rock on the way back to the trailer park. Those two sides of him were wrestling again.
God, Guerin. You're such a wuss. You can't even stick around to comfort a crying girl?
Since when is it my job to look out for Perfect Parker? Since never. Therefore I had no reason to stick around. She's a loser, anyway.
You know that's not true, dumbass. And it became your job that night when you looked at her like that.
How the hell did I look at her?
Like you cared.
How would I know what that looks like?
Just quit, okay? Stop playing the part of the pathetic little outcast with no family. There are tons of people who care about you. Max. Isabel. Their parents. Liz...
Whoa whoa whoa. Where'd this come from?
You saw how she looked at you. You guys made some kind of connection that night. You can't turn your back on that.
The hell are you talking about? Connection? We swapped stories and compared bruises.
No answer. Which only left him to think about what he meant. What kind of connection could he have made? Surely not like the ones he and Max and Izzy made when they were little, playing with their powers. What else was there? He shook his head and kicked at another rock. Then it occurred to him that 1) he had just listened to an argument in his head that he hadn't really participated in, and 2) he was now thinking about what was said in that argument. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Stupid Parker...
***
The next day was mostly uneventful, until lunchtime. Michael was again digging through his locker for the makeshift lunch he'd grabbed just before Hank had chased him out of the house. He thought he was the only one in the hallway, until he heard a stack of books fall and a familiar voice swear quietly. He spun around. Sure enough, Liz was standing amongst her textbooks, glaring down at them as though they had done it purposely. But there was something off about her...the way she was holding herself... Michael couldn't put his finger on it, but she looked... different. He went over to her and knelt, grabbing the science textbook.
"Here..." He said. Not looking him in the eye, she took it, sliding it into the bottom of the locker. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replied quietly, closing her locker and standing up. "Have a good lunch."
"Liz, wait." He grabbed her upper arm, and she jerked away. "Tell me. What's wrong?"
"I did tell you. I'm fine."
Of course, Alex chose this moment to run up to Liz and throw his arms around her.
"You didn't call me last night, Miss Parker. I was scared to death all night-what's wrong?" Liz's face was contorted in a grimace of pain. Alex immediately let her go, running his hands through her hair. "I'm sorry..."
"It's fine. You just...hug really tightly..." she gave a weak smile and put her arm around him.
"Come on. Maria's probably replaced my Fritos with a wheatgrass smoothie or something."
Liz made a face and they left. Michael sighed and grabbed the tattered brown bag in his locker and slammed the door, heading down to find Max.
***
After the last class had ended and the crowd in the hallway had thinned, there were still three students tinkering around by their lockers.
"Michael, I thought teenage girls were supposed to worry about exercising all the time-not guys," Max said, leaning, once more, on the locker next to Michael's.
"Bite me, Maxwell. So I don't want to ride the bus. Sue me."
"Calm down there, Tiger. I was kidding." He at the locker right across the hall from Michael's. "So why do you think Liz is always walking?"
"Teenage girls and all that," Michael said, slamming his locker. He noticed how Liz's shoulder blades seemed to tense at the noise, so he headed over. "Why're you stalling, Parker?" Liz jumped once more and looked at him.
"I am not stalling."
"You've just refolded that homework assignment five times."
Liz glanced down at the paper in her hands and shoved it in her pocket. "Your point? Hi, Max." She smiled warmly at Max, setting his ears aflame. She laughed quietly, reaching up to push her hair behind her ear. Her sleeve pulled up, revealing a trail of cuts. Michael grabbed her arm, gently yanking the sleeve further up and forgetting about Max. Almost the whole length of her arm was covered in angry red scratches.
"Must have been a hell of an apple," Michael challenged. Liz jerked her arm away angrily, slamming her locker shut and heading down the hall. "What's wrong, Parker?"
She spun around and glared at him. "Michael, stop! You don't care! I can see it in your eyes! Give it the hell up, allright? I get it. Now leave me alone." She turned and stormed out. He, of course followed her outside, with Max trailing them.
"What the hell do you mean, I don't care?"
"It's fine. Just leave me alone."
He chased her halfway down the street before he realized the absurdity of the whole thing and reached out with his mind and tripped her. He then easily caught up with her and held out his hand. She ignored it and stood up on her own. "What do you want?"
"What'd you do with the apple?"
"Why do you care?"
"Did you throw it out?"
"Michael, there was no fucking apple, okay?"
"What?" Max looked a bit taken aback by the fact that Liz had sworn, but Michael was more shocked by her words.
"There wasn't one."
"Why?"
"She's gone, Michael. My mom."
"Where'd she go?"
"I got home yesterday, and she'd taken off... she left a note-she's gone to Tulsa."
*That's* what was different about Liz's posture-she looked defeated, betrayed. Michael was silent.
"Are you happy?"
"Wh-of course not."
"Whatever." Liz sighed. "I'm going now."
"Liz, your mom is gone?"
Welcome to the conversation, Maxie Boy, Michael thought. Liz looked up, shocked. She must have forgotten all about him.
"Um...yeah." She smiled.
"Why? And what's wrong with your arm?"
"I scratched myself last night in my sleep. I do that a lot." She smiled winningly at Max. She was so much better at lying than Michael was... Max glanced at her hand-and Michael realized that her nails were chewed down just as she did. She smiled and balled her hand into a fist, hiding her fingers.
"You don't have nails."
Liz shrugged, obviously unsure how to answer that one. Max studied her face.
"Liz, do you think you can help me with the math homework? I could go over your house."
Liz looked cornered. "Uh-I'm...not supposed to have friends over on school nights."
"What if it was for homework, and then I left? Would your dad let you then?"
She winced. "No. He wouldn't."
Max looked semi-triumphant, and Michael stepped in. "Maxwell, what if she went over to your house?"
Liz nodded slightly. "I could do that..."
"Okay. Then you could stay for dinner and my dad and I could drive you home on our way to drop Michael off."
She was cornered again. "No. I can walk home. Your house isn't far from the Crashdown."
"We'll figure that out later... Just, come on." He started towards his house, and Liz slowly followed.
***
"Momma, Dad? I'm home!" Max yelled as they walked in the door. Mrs. Evans came in from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishcloth.
"Hey, Max. How was school?"
"The usual," Max replied, making a face. His mother laughed, then looked at Michael and Liz.
"Michael, honey, can you take off your shoes, please? How was school?"
Michael kicked off his boots and mumbled something.
"How lovely. Liz, how were your classes?"
Liz turned red. "Fine, thank you."
"Are you two staying for dinner?"
"Yes, Momma. They are. Is that okay?"
"That's perfect!" A buzzer rang in the kitchen. "Oh! Gotta go. Nice to have you here, Liz." She smiled at her and dashed out, and Max dumped his backpack on the floor, plopping down at the coffee table and unfolding the sheet of homework they had to do. Liz sat on the other side of the table and did the same. Michael flung himself onto the couch and turned the television on, which was the only noise except the occasional tutelage from one bookworm to the other on how to solve this problem more quickly, or how to find the answer to that one. After a while, Mrs. Evans came into the living room.
"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt you, but come eat." She smiled. For some reason, Liz paled.
"Omigosh!" She exclaimed quietly.
"What's wrong, honey?" Mrs. Evans asked, ushering the boys into the kitchen.
"I didn't call my dad. Mrs. Evans, could I please use your phone? It'd just be a minute."
"Of course. It's right there. We'll wait for you, okay?"
"Yes. Thank you very much."
Mrs. Evans went into the kitchen and sat at the table, lightly smacking her husband's hand when he reached for the spaghetti noodles.
"What?"
"We're waiting for out guest."
Mr. Evans looked confused. "Who... Michael's here already."
"Liz Parker is over."
Mr. Evans grinned at Max. "Way to go, Max," he teased, elbowing him in the side.
"That girl is so polite," Max's mother gushed. "You three could stand to take lessons from her."
Max made a face at her, and Michael snorted.
"Where's Izzy?"
"She's at a friend's."
"Which one?" Michael asked. Mr. Evans made a face.
"Don't they all look the same to you?"
"Hey!" Diane said, glaring at him. He laughed and held his hands out in surrender.
"Sorry, honey, but its true..." He laughed, and looked up as Liz quietly entered the kitchen, chewing her lip.
"Everything okay, honey?" Max's mom asked her, gesturing towards the seat next to her husband.
"Yes, ma'm."
"That's good. Okay, everyone, say grace." Everyone took the hand of the person next to them, Liz's small hand swallowed up by Mr. Evans'. They said the customary prayer (Michael never really listened), and began eating. Liz only took a very small portion, and only picked at that, looking distracted and worried.
"Something wrong, Liz?" Max's mother asked, looking concerned.
"I don't blame you," Mr. Evans said, leaning over. "I'm afraid of this stuff too," He laughed and ducked a flying napkin. Liz looked up.
"Oh no, Ma'm. This is...great. You're a good cook. I'm just not very hungry..."
"Are you sure? Because if you are, you'd better eat it now, or, knowing these guys, it'll disappear off your plate before you get the chance."
"No, I'm very sure." Liz smiled at her. "But may I help you with the dishes?"
Diane looked shocked, then turned to her husband and son. "Do you hear that?" She turned back to Liz. "I'm going to adopt you, okay, honey?"
Liz flushed and returned her eyes to her plate.
When the dinner was over and the table was cleared, Liz and Mrs. Evans were standing at the sink, up to their elbows in soapy water. Max had brought his half-finished homework in to the kitchen table, and was mostly watching Liz, who was scrubbing at the dishes, looking very serious. Diane looked over her shoulder and winked and Michael, then splashed a little water at Liz, who flinched, then looked up and smiled softly.
"You look so serious," Mrs. Evans said, laughing. Liz shrugged and returned to the dishes. "Don't you boys want to go in there and watch the game with Mr. Evans?"
They shook their heads. Max would obviously rather watch Liz, and the way Mr. Evans got all worked up about a bad play reminded Michael of the way Hank got sometimes-loud Not violent. Mr. Evans would never hurt a fly.
"Okay..." She said, handing Liz a dishtowel. "Here, how about I wash and you dry? It'll go faster." Liz nodded. She was in the middle of drying a plate, when obviously Mr. Evans' team didn't score.
"Useless bum! What are you doing on this team? You *had* that one, and you let them knock it out!"
Liz jumped and the plate slid out of her hands. She immediately dropped to her knees to pick up the shards. "I'm so so so so sorry! I didn't-it was an accident! I-"
Mrs. Evans reached behind the refrigerator to get the broom. "It's fine, honey. Oh, don't pick that up with your hands-you'll cut yourself. I've got a broom-let me sweep."
Liz glanced up, face pale and eyes dark with fear, then nodded and stood, holding the large pieces of glass. Mr. Evans came in from the living room and put his hands on Liz's shoulders. She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, but neither of the parents noticed.
"What happened?"
"Just a casualty," Mrs. Evans said with a smile as she emptied the dustpan into the trash. "I keep telling you that you shouldn't get so worked up about those stupid games. You startled Liz."
He looked down at the girl under his hands. "Is this true?" he asked, in his mock-stern voice. Liz nodded slowly. "I don't believe you. I think my wife dropped the plate and is trying to frame you." Liz now shook her head vigorously.
"No, sir. It was me. I dropped it," she replied fearfully.
"Oh, okay." He laughed and returned to the living room. Mrs. Evans took the shards from Liz and threw them away, then looked at Liz, whose eyes were full of tears.
"Baby, it's fine," she laughed, gathering her into her arms for a hug. "It was just a plate. Do you know how many Max and Izzy-not to mention Michael- have dropped? I don't even have a matching set anymore. Don't worry about it!"
"You aren't going to tell my father?"
"Why would I do that?"
Liz shrugged and returned to the sink, picking up a fork to dry it. Diane looked over at Max and Michael for a second, then lightly squeezed Liz's shoulder before finishing the dishes. Liz barely winced.
***
Later that night, the phone rang, and Mr. Evans answered it.
"Is there an Elizabeth in the house?" he teased, handing Liz the phone. She listened for a little while, then answered quietly, so no one in the room could hear, then hung up.
"My dad says thank you very much for letting me come over today."
"You tell him he's very welcome. And so are you-whenever you want to come over."
Liz flushed and picked at her jeans. "Thank you. I should probably go now, though..."
"Are you sure?"
"My dad will need help with closing up the restaurant..."
"Okay. I'll drive you."
"That's okay. I can walk."
"Nonsense. It's dark out. You're not walking home alone in this."
"I'll be fine. I've done it before."
"So why tempt fate? I'm driving you." Mr. Evans crossed his arms. Liz looked frightened, until he crossed his eyes at her, and then she smiled a little. "Michael, you ready, son?"
Michael pretended to grumble about how he'd just gotten comfortable, but grinned and put his shoes on, poking Liz gently in the side.
***
After they'd dropped Liz off and Mr. Evans had waved to her father, they headed towards the trailer park.
"She's a nice girl," Mr. Evans said. "A bit highly-strung, though."
"Thanks to her dad," Michael mumbled.
"What?"
"I mean, her parents taught her all those manners."
"Right." He looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Like Hank taught you yours."
"What?"
"Nothing. Is she always that scared?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, when she dropped that plate, she looked like she thought we were going to beat her up or something."
Michael kept his eyes averted. "Probably from working in the Crashdown, you know? Not supposed to drop things there."
"Yeah, but people don't usually hit you when you do."
"Well, son, we're here. Looks like your fosterfather is at work again."
'Work', my ass, Michael thought wryly. He's at the bar. The check probably came today. "Yeah. Gotta put food on the table, you know?"
"I do. See you later, Michael."
"Bye, Mr. Evans."
He noticed that Mr. Evans didn't leave until he'd opened the door and made his way in. And what was he talking about-Hank teaching him manners like Liz's? Unless he knew. Oh, shit. If he knew, and he told someone, they'd take Michael away-probably to another home in another state. What would he do then, without Max or Iz? It'd be good if Mr. Evans told someone about Liz's father, though. She didn't deserve to get treated like that... Something deep in Michael told him that neither did he, but he knew he could take it. And anyway, his 'dad' wasn't even his real father. Liz's was, which made it all the worse.