A/N: Sorry about my lack of updates. I'm not too fond of school right now. Or college plans. Ugh. But, whatever. At least I still have my writing. However, I personally don't like how this chapter is written. Maybe it's just me. I might re-write it later. Comments? Reviews? Anything?
I continued walking, not sure of where I was headed, and not caring. Anywhere but here was fine, anywhere but Wasaga. Kicking an empty beer can out of the way, I had an idea. I immediately turned around and headed in the direction of the beach. It was, after all, just a few blocks from the trailer park, where I unfortunately lived.
As I walked, several people stared at me, giving me curios stares as if to say, "What the hell is this piece of trailer trash doing here?" I glared at them and turned away, catching a glimpse of the yellow sand in the distance. I sped up, pushing a couple carrying lawn chairs and an umbrella out of my way. They shouted after me, as I sprinted over towards the rental shack, sand flying in every direction. An elderly couple gave me a dirty look, as they brushed the sand off their blanket. Since when did this become their beach? They were too old and unsightly for it anyway. Just as I was about to reply, someone called my name.
"Cameron?" I turned around. It was Tyler Bishop, the reason for my shipment to Toronto. Except that it was my fault for coming back here. This time it had been more serious than a stupid fight. I had killed someone. No. No.. I didn't kill him. I didn't. It was an accident, right? I didn't pull the trigger. It was just an-
"Yo! Cameron!" Tyler called again, wrecking my train of thought. I turned to face him, staring at me in confusion. We had hung out more, become friends, or something like that, during the short time I'd spent here. Ever since he saved my ass from drowning, it seems like things have been different. "What's up?" He tried again, looking concerned.
"Tyler." I greeted him with a nod. "I need a favor."
"Sure, whatever." He shrugged, looking nonplussed.
" I need to borrow your car." This got his attention.
"What?" He practically yelled, causing the two old people to glare at us again.
"I said I-"
" I know. I HEARD that part." He snapped. "Why do you need it?"
I rolled my eyes. "Afraid Mr. Trailer Trash is gonna mess up your car?"
He smirked. "No because then I would have to kick his ass." "I just want to know why you want my car."
I looked away. "My friend's in trouble."
"Who? One of those kids who came up here a few months ago?"
Months. Exactly how many months had I left Ellie alone like that? She could have started cutting again, and I would be to blame. "Because if it's that jackass with the 'gangsta' clothes and the backwards hat, you can forget it." He continued. I smirked, remembering Jay's mockery of Tyler, which had resulted in another black eye. Not from me, this time, but from Tyler. Hey, I didn't say he didn't deserve it.
"No. It's..." My voice trailed off. Tyler narrowed his eyes in thought.
"That girl. The redhead. She was your girlfriend?" I nodded impatiently.
"Can I just-"
But Tyler wasn't paying attention.
"Yeah, she was hot." I stared at him. "I meant that in a totally literal way. She came with you to the beach wearing long sleeves and layers. Not even a bikini. What's with that?" He finished quickly.
"It's complicated." I stated lamely. He nodded.
" So she's the one in trouble?"
"YES. Now can you shut up and let me take your damn car?" He held up his hands in defeat, tossing me the keys.
"Fine, fine. But if she doesn't take you back, I want her number." I flicked him off, and saw him cheerfully return the gesture, as I located his car and began walking over to it.
"Cameron?" I turned around. "Good luck. And don't fuck up my car."
