Chapter Sixteen:

Detours

{Donnie}

I've been to the surface countless times now. Night after night, sometimes even during the day, clinging to the shadow, scouring the streets and the glistening buildings and knowing it was beautiful. Knowing the stars, the moon, the sun, the clouds, the rain, the snow, the hail and the icy winds that bit through even the toughest flesh.

But it was never like this. In broad daylight, the sun shines like nothing I've ever seen and warms like nothing I've ever felt. My skin hums under its touch, warmth buzzing through me, laced with the butterflies fluttering in my stomach as the excitement and wonder continues to build.

We've left the sewers behind us. The dark stone, always damp, sometimes bitterly cold and sometimes miserably hot, where our little feet pattered for years as we explored every crevasse, desperate and restless. The home that was all I ever knew suddenly seems dingy and gray in my memory, outshined by the city washed in sunlight.

The sandals we fashioned out of leather strips and duct tape squirm under each footfall, flapping up to smack my heel and make obnoxious sounds. They're not comfortable, but they suffice until we get something more orthodox. It's better than going out barefoot, at least.

We move for the bus stop. Pass through the crowds, the streams of people—men in their business suits, women in their pencil skirts; the clicking of heels, the scuffle of children as they drag their feet, pointing and whining while their parents haul them along. The noises, the sights, the smells—it's a whirlwind of human activity that I'm not at all used to. Every person that brushes past me sends a wave of anxiety beneath my flesh, and I have to remind myself that I, too, am human. There's no need to flinch, to recoil from eye contact or map out escape routes. We're all humans here, simply bustling along to the rhythm of our own schedules, oblivious to everyone else.

I take a deep breath and swerve out of the way of a mother and her two kids, apologizing out of habit. She says nothing back, but I doubt she heard me. Swallowing down another bout of anxiety, I look to my brother for solid ground just to find he's even more on edge than I am. Well, what else could I expect from Leo?

"Are we almost there?" he whispers quickly. Those blue orbs flit to each face, identifying threats, assessing the danger, looking for weapons and feeling for any unsettling presence.

"It's just another block north," April replies. She glances back at the two of us and smiles, rolling her eyes. "You both can calm down, you know. You're safe out here like this."

Leo grumbles something indistinct in response and continues his wary glances. His anxious demeanor doesn't help calm mine. I take my focus off of him and go back to observing the strange, day lit world around me. Cars honk past, tires groaning, squealing, swerving. Asphalt kicks up, exhaust plumes, buses screech to a halt and puff out smoke like fat old dragons on their last leg. In between the huddles of suits and shades, there are groups of younger people. College kids, high schoolers ditching, circled around metal tables and chairs, cigarettes between fingers, laughing with bad breath of alcohol and stale things. Some with book bags, hurrying past, eyes to the ground. Glasses, hats, coats, lips, blinking, teeth, smiles. So much noise, so many different conversations and lives all converging down the same concrete path. I try to focus on one just to pick up another, and it's all too much. A couple of girls spot our wayward group and giggle, pointing with glossy nails. I feel like I should be offended, but I don't know which one of us they're pointing at, and I can't hear what they're saying. The red floods my cheeks nonetheless, and I avert my gaze to my awkward feet, walking faster to hide between Leo and Casey.

"See? There's the bus stop." April picks up the pace, expression beaming. Her excitement is contagious to say the least, and I can't help but to let the nervous flutter melt away. The benches come into view, surrounded by advertisement boards and tucked beneath the metal overhang to block out the sun or the rain. There's already a gathering of people waiting for the next tired vehicle to huff its way over. The seats on the benches have been taken, overflowing with suits, skirts, coats and canes; sunglasses and wrinkles; too much cologne and not enough deodorant; tired eyes and blinking cell phones. We stand as close as we can without bursting any personal space bubbles, but I'm still not entirely comfortable. Getting on a bus full of people I don't know isn't appealing in any way, shape, or form.

"So," April starts, leaning in. I fight the blush at her close proximity. "Are you guys excited?"

I nod and tie it up with an honest grin, despite the thumping of my heart. Too many people, too many sounds, too many smells—

And yet why is it so intoxicating?

"Yeah," I answer, leaving tire marks over the jumbles of thoughts in my head. "It's just a little hard to get used to…being so exposed. And around so many people."

"I can see how that'd be overwhelming," she empathizes. A playful smile tugs at her soft lips. "Just try not to get lost, okay?"

I chuckle, brain on autopilot while the rest of me reels. Again, I look to Leo for guidance, but he's just as lost. His eyes are boring into the few business men ahead of us, dressed in their boots and black coats, blue ties, dark shades and cropped hair until they all look the same. I can see my brother's fingers twitching, drumming against his thighs in anticipation. Who's that? Who's this? What're they doing? Where are they going? The questions swirling in his brain are so loud and obvious, it's tangible. I nudge him by the shoulder to shake him out of his stupor; he blinks once, twice, and looks at me.

"What?"

"You've got to stop that," I mutter, glancing around. "We're safe out here…more or less. And these people are all just normal humans doing normal things. Going to work, lunch, shopping, school—they're not threats, Leo."

His eyes narrow, blue putting the haze of the sky to shame. "You don't know that. And it's just a habit, alright?" His gaze sweeps the bus stop once more, and he grunts. "Not like it's a bad one."

I roll my eyes. "Well, at least try to stop. You're making me nervous."

"I promised Splinter we'd be careful," he retorts sharply, once again reminding me that he's carrying the burden of our punishment. I still don't know what exactly transpired between the two of them, but I'm not about to ask. I don't want that weighing down today.

"Alright…but try to have some fun, will you?" He hums in response and flinches when the hulking bus steams in from the main street. It rolls to a stop, sinking on stretched tires, hissing out a wave of heat and thick, bitter exhaust. The door squeaks open, a sharp, high-pitched welcome to board. People start piling on, and I watch idly as the thing continues to sag on worn tires like an old horse buckling under the weight of its passenger. One by one, the people climb in, and the four of us follow last. April and Casey plink the bus fare into the secured container by the driver's seat. Leo and I stick close—not like we have a choice—and trail behind until we reach the only semi-clear space left. It kind of—no, it really bothers me that everyone's just holding onto rails and bars rather than sitting down. And buckling up. Not that there's any seatbelts, but there really should be. If this thing tipped over, it'd be an awful mess—

"You okay, Donnie?" April's voice. I shake my head, clear my mind, and nod.

"Of course!" Too eager? Yeah, too eager. "It's just…crowded."

And it smells, and there's no seatbelts and people are just piling onto available seats and shoving each other into corners—

She laughs and offers a shrug. "You'll get used to it. This is actually one of the better days, if you can believe it."

No, I really can't.

"So how far away is the mall?"

Another shrug, a glance at Casey, who's become very invested in looking out the window and avoiding all conversation with us.

"Ten minutes or so." She tries to hide the fall in her expression at Casey's indifference, but I catch it before she can sweep it under a pretty smile. "Think you can survive that?"

I laugh it off like I'm not feeling the definition of claustrophobia crawling beneath my skin.

"I've survived explosions, both Shredder and his army of highly trained ninjas, and a full-scale alien invasion." The side of my mouth tugs up into a grin to tie off the 'keeping cool under pressure' look I'm going for. "I think I can handle a bus ride."

~T~

{April}

Donnie couldn't handle the bus ride. The second that thing pulled to a stop, he practically leaped over the seats and was out the door before any of us even knew what happened. Leo looked like his lid was about to pop, seeing Donnie scamper off like that, but I'm just impressed he got out of the bus so fast.

We wade through the horde of passengers, keeping to the back until we finally reach the doors. Donnie's waiting out by the curb, tapping his feet and stretching idly like he couldn't be happier to get out of the stinky old bus. I mean, I don't blame him—I can imagine it was very uncomfortable for someone who's never experienced anything like bus rides through New York.

"What the heck was that, man?" Casey grumbles as we step out from the vehicle.

Donnie blinks like he has no idea what Casey's referring to. "The bus stopped," he says with a shrug. "So I got off."

"Obviously!" His nostrils flare. "You can't just jump over people's heads like that!"

I put a hand on Casey's arm to calm him. "Casey, it's fine. Just…be a little more patient next time, okay Donnie?"

Leo snorts, crossing his arms in amusement. "Donnie's claustrophobic."

"And your nose is weird!" he snaps. "Oh, look everyone, we're all making observations!"

Leo's hand immediately shoots to his face to conceal his nose. "What? What's wrong with my nose? A nose can't be weird—it's a nose!"

And the day's just starting.

I roll my eyes, groaning. "Donnie—Leo—both of you, just calm down!" I reprimand, pulling Leo's hand away from his face. "Leo, your nose is fine. Donnie's just jumpy."

"So am I," he grumbles, "but you don't see me trying to take people's heads off with my feet."

"That's 'cause you'd be trying to do that with your swords," he retorts. "At least I don't keep looking at everybody like they're drug dealers or Foot soldiers in disguise."

"I'm just being careful! We talked about this already and I just—"

"Okay!" I shout, standing between them. "Both of you, zip it!" Donnie flinches at the tone of my voice, but Leo just looks away with narrowed eyes. "Guys, come on, let's just have some fun, alright?"

A few grumbled responses emit from the two. I glance briefly at Casey, but again, he's staring off down the street with that bored/distracted/cloudy/angry/stormy/angry/angry/angry look on his face—

No. Calm down. Just make sure he doesn't feel left out and get everyone off the side of the street.

I push the hair from my face with resolve and tug the two boys along, with Casey following a few feet behind. I don't want to play Mother today, but I know I'm the only one capable of keeping things together and somewhat sane. So down the street we go, and Leo and Donnie forget about their bickering and lose themselves again in observing the city.

We reach the shopping center, and the teenagers become five-year-olds in a toy store. Through the doors, into the center, surrounded by lights and windows and pretty things.

"Oh! That one first!" Leo shouts, grabbing my hand and pointing towards Underarmor. "I've never worn actual armor before!"

"It's not armor," I say loudly against the crowd. I snag Donnie's sleeve and yank him back in place before he can wander off. "It's just a place that sells clothes."

Leo's expression falls. "But it says underarmor." His face falls further. "Wait, that's not another term for underwear, is it?"

"No, it's—" I stutter off when I realize that today is the first day either of them have worn any underwear ever, and then that turns into a rockslide of strange and not-entirely-appropriate thoughts. They were naked as turtles, like, all the time. They have guy-parts now, but did they before? And if they did, where the heck were they supposed to be because I never saw anything—

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's an athletic store," I continue without skipping a beat. I don't know what kind of expression I had on, or where I was even looking (hopefully his face), but I am not going down that road ever again. "You know, like tank tops and jogger pants and stuff."

He says something back in a disappointed tone, but I don't really hear it because Donnie is pulling on my hand like a big dog on a leash. Which makes me wish I had a leash.

"We can go to the stupid underwear store later," Donnie presses with a tug. "They have a computer store! Look at it! And it's way more advanced than the one on Fifth Street—"

"Are you sure it's not an underwear store?"

"Leo, it's not an—"

More tugging. "Just let me go look in the tech store for a second—"

"But that's not what—"

"They've gotta sell armor somewhere in this place—"

"Guys!" Casey snaps and all three of us flinch. "We came here to buy clothes, not computers or armor or anything else. Got it?" Leo and Donnie nod obediently, and Casey smacks both of their hands away from mine. Good thing, too, because being ripped in half was not on my list of things to do today.

"Now, the best way to deal with this and not drive myself crazy is for us to split up."

Leo and Donnie backpedal. "What?"

"Donnie, you're coming with me," Casey continues, ignoring the two's protest. "Leo, you go with April."

Donnie shoves Leo aside and gets all worked up and puffy. "I'm not spending the entire day with you!"

"Well if we hurry this up, it won't take all day!" Casey snaps.

"But why do I have to go with you?!"

"Donnie, it's fine." I let out a sigh and nod towards Casey. "He's right—it'll be easier if we split up, especially if you both want to look at different things. We'll shop for a couple hours and meet back up for lunch, okay?"

Donnie still looks miffed—but now that I've agreed with Casey's decision, he also looks a little betrayed. It probably sounds like I'd rather go with Leo than with him and it's probably burning him up on the inside but I can't tell him he's wrong, because he's not. At the moment, the last thing I really want is to be with either Casey or Donnie. Leo's the safest bet here, and he'll certainly help me keep my mind off all the confusing fluster-fluff in my brain.

"Well, it's just past ten." I glance down at my phone. "How about we meet at the food court around twelve-thirty?"

Casey shrugs, indifferent but angry. "Yeah, sure."

The tone of his voice makes my heart sink. I can sense his frustration—no, I can feel it—coming off him in waves, directed at everyone and everything. Including me.

Stupid—

This was such a bad idea—

Why am I so stupid—

"Here." My thoughts clamp shut as I start to dig through my purse and fish out my wallet, slipping the blue card from its place behind my high school I.D. "Use this, and keep it under $250, okay?"

Casey stares at the credit card for a second before pushing a breath through his nostrils and putting the card in his own wallet.

"See you in a bit, Red."

I groan inwardly and watch as Casey turns on his heels and walks off, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, eyes burning and set straight like he'd rather be anywhere else than here. Donnie trails behind him, glancing back repeatedly at Leo and I in a nervous fashion.

"Come on," I say absently. "There's a department store down this side." We move through the huddles of people and I lose myself in thought.

Is it going to be like this forever? There was enough tension before with just Donnie and Casey, but now that Donnie's a human, it's a million times more intense and uncomfortable. If the boys really do stay human, and if this really does work out, our lives will become even more intertwined, and Casey and Donnie will be harder to pry loose. Competing for my attention, constantly belittling each other when in reality, they'd make pretty good friends. I don't want to be in the middle of something this stupid. I don't want to even think about a relationship, or feelings, or anything other than school and my dad and my future as a human being. How can they not see that?

Halfway there, I realize Leo's dragging like, ten yards behind me. I stop to watch him, and I can't help but to smile. He's spinning around in slow steps as he walks in order to get a look at everything. His eyes are big and his mouth hangs open just enough for him to look like a little kid. I roll my eyes, smiling to myself, as I walk over to him.

"See something you like?" I ask, burying my hands in my coat.

He shakes his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, I've just…never…well, you know." He chuckles and gestures upwards. "This whole place is really cool."

"You think so?" My gaze sweeps over the familiar shops and bustle of people. I've been here so many times, it almost doesn't register anymore. And I've never liked shopping as much as other people my age… I wonder what this all looks like to him. How must it feel to be out here, in a place like this?

"Come on." I grab his arm and pull him along. "We've got a lot of shopping to do."

~T~

{Casey}

"Is everything you pick going to be purple?"

Donnie shoots a glare towards me and reluctantly hangs a shirt back on the rack. I scoff and roll my eyes.

"Well don't mind my commentary." I tap my fingers along one of the metal shelves, taking idle steps around the store. "Fashion isn't exactly my, uh, forte."

Donnie makes a not-so-subtle snort. "Obviously." It takes a lot of strength to not pick up the nearest article and chuck it at his stupid head, so I opt for slumping against the shelves and focusing on the giant pictures advertising clothes. The girls are pretty, all dolled up and smiling—bright lights and vibrant colors and just the overall portrayal of girl.

Still, April's prettier.

"Your contribution of dumb ideas isn't anything new, Jones," he mutters, sifting through the folded T-shirts. "But the notion of us splitting up to shop was just ridiculous."

Another roll of the eyes. "You're just upset that April agreed." Tap, tap, tap. Drum fingers, bounce the leg, then hands in pockets and shift the weight. Switch sides and repeat.

Bored, bored, bored, B-O-R-E-D.

Gah! I should've just stayed home, but no, I just had to get curious!

Donnie keeps his eyes down. "Well…yeah, I am." He chews on his lip and refolds the shirts he's been examining. "I kind of wanted to hang around her today." He pauses, realizes who he's talking to, and goes back to focusing on clothes and pretending I'm not here.

Honestly, he's so head-over-heels about April I think it drives him crazy. I mean, I like her too. A lot, actually. But I'm not going around wound up and coiled like a spring and then spazzing out every time April does something/says something/exists. She walks in the room and BAM! he's bouncing and tripping over himself like a stuttering idiot. I'm pretty sure we'd get along if he could just scrape that side of himself off into the trash with a plastic knife. The last thing I want to deal with is some dumb love triangle, like in those plays they make us read in English. Besides, playing it cool seems to be working in my favor. Less crap for April to deal with, and less stress for me. If she likes me, awesome. If she doesn't, well that'll suck, and I'll probably mope and pout and lock myself in my room to drown out the pain with video games and junk food—but eventually, I'll get over it. Donnie, on the other hand… Well, I think he'd shrivel up and die.

My lips tug down tight, and the boredom rears up again. "Are you going to try anything on ever or are we going to be here for the next fifty years?"

A crease forms between his brows. "I've never done this before," he defends angrily. "I-I don't really know what to look for." His expression hardens as he glares at all the shelves and racks and hangers. I can read his face—too much, too much, too much.

"You can at least try to help me!" he growls after a moment of stimulation overload. I push off the piece of furniture and stalk over to his side.

"I'm a medium." I snatch one of the graphic T-shirts he was looking at—the purple Volcom one spattered with black and gray—and hand it to him. "You should go for large. You're taller and—"

You have broader shoulders and thicker arms and more muscle and—

Shut up!

"—you can grow into it, you know? Lasts longer."

Nice save, Jones.

"Huh." He glances over the shirt, and I toss a medium in there, too. "Just try both and let me know. And we should get some jeans…jackets or coats and some, ah, real shoes." I smirk at the leather/duct tape hybrid he's currently sporting.

His lip curls into a slight snarl, but he just changes the subject. "Jeans, right. Those are over there…"

I help him with sizes, basically picking things close to mine and then snatching around the range to find the perfect fit. We move around the store, slowly but steadily, until we've gathered a good pile of shirts, jeans, a hoodie, some sweaters, and a nice coat.

With our mountain of clothing, I shove him into the dressing room and wait outside. My fingers glide across the keypad on my phone while I play the same apps over and over. He better not take forever. April always takes forever when she finds some clothes she likes. She tries stuff on and then takes it off, tries a different color, takes it off and goes back to what she had before, asks the opinion of everyone in a fifty foot radius, and then ends up not buying anything.

Girls.

The minutes tick by. Clicking away on my phone, I smirk at the disgruntled sounds of Donnie trying to get into all the new clothes. He's really bad at putting pants on.

"Do I need to get someone to come in there and help you?" I joke. He growls.

"No, I'm doing just fine in my own—ow!" A loud thump sounds from the room—he just smacked his head on the metal rod used for hanging stuff. I did that once or twice. Not fun.

"Just hurry up, dude. We've got maybe an hour before we meet back up with April and Leo for lunch, and we've still got to find you shoes and normal stuff, like socks and boxers or whatever." My focus drops back to my phone while I pull up my messaging system. "And I'm not helping you pick those out."

~T~

{April}

"What time is it?" My lips purse while I shift and search through the racks and racks of clothing. The screech of hangers clawing their way across the metal rods is really getting on my nerves, and Leo flinches every time he hears it.

"It's a quarter past eleven," he answers, staring at the screen of his T-phone. He glances up for a second, watching me hunt for something cute. "What're you looking for?"

"Blue." My fingers brush a texture I find acceptable, and I pull out a nice, casual polo. Of course, it's blue.

"'Cause of my mask?" he wonders aloud.

"Because it looks good on you," I stress. "Goes with your eyes and skin tone and all that fun stuff."

He hums in a sort of confused agreement. "This whole shopping thing is a lot more complicated than I thought."

I hold up another polo to the first one. No, the cut is weird. Blue one's better. "What'd you think it'd be like?"

He shrugs, his gaze drifting idly around the shelves. "I don't know. We go in, grab stuff that fits, and then go. Right?"

A snort escapes me. "If you want to look homeless, sure."

Another hum. His makeshift sandals scrunch and stick and slap the bottom on his foot as he walks around, pretending to be interested in random things so he doesn't look out of place.

"You can go look around the store, you know." The acceptable shirts fold over my left arm while the right continues to pick and pull from the mix. "You don't have to stay here if you're bored."

"You sure?" Those cerulean orbs dart back and forth, nervous. I answer his anxious demeanor with a calm shrug.

"Yeah, you've got your phone. Just stay in the same store and I'll text you when I've got all the things I want you to try on." Click, shing. I hang another dud back up and finally accept that I've searched this rack through and through. "If you see anything you like, let me know."

He nods, his fists balled up by his chest, unsure, but excited. "Alright!" He's about to take off when his T-phone buzzes. Fishing it out of his pocket, he clicks the screen, illuminating the device in his hand.

"What's up?" I ask idly.

"It's Casey," he says, opening the text. "He says to get some yellow…" He stops, frowning in a childish manner and tilting his head. "I can't read that word."

"Let me see." I slant the phone to read the message, and my ears start burning.

"What?" he asks. "What's it say?"

"It's lingerie," I grumble.

He blinks with big eyes. "…Is that like a pasta or what?"

Oh you poor, innocent thing. "No, Leo, it's not pasta. It's like…bras and stuff."

"Oh." The frown comes back, deepening slightly. "Um…why does Casey know what kind of bras you wear?"

"He's just teasing me." I sift through the racks of shirts in an effort to escape the embarrassment blooming through my stomach. "Last semester I wore a new shirt to school, and I didn't realize it was kind of see-through in certain lighting. Well, until I got dress-coded, at least. He thinks it's funny to bring it up all the time."

"Oh." He stares blankly at the shirt rack for a few moments, making the silence a bit unnerving. My brain scrambles for any other thought than the horrific embarrassment when Leo finally speaks up.

"Guys don't need to wear bras, right? Because I already hate underwear."

An unexpected laugh escapes me and I accidentally drop one of the shirts I was holding.

"No, Leo, guys don't have to wear bras. Unless, you know, you gain a few hundred pounds or something."

Again, the silence. I find a shirt I like and hold it up to Leo's torso to see he's trying to keep from laughing.

"What?" I ask, grinning.

"That guy on the bus needs a bra."

~T~

{Donnie}

"How much money's left?" I grunt, shifting the heavy bags for the tenth time. I don't know why they put heavy things like clothes in plastic that stretches and cuts all the circulation off from my poor, reddening fingers. Besides, reusable bags are more efficient.

"About seventy bucks," Casey mutters. He shoves his hands in his pockets, not offering to help. "Enough for shoes."

"Shoes cost that much?" I switch arms and flex my aching hand out. We bought a lot—or what seems like a lot to me—for much less than I originally expected. Casey says guy clothes are cheaper, especially since I gravitated towards the more casual shirts.

"They can." He shrugs with a small grin. "But I know the guy at the skate shop, so I could probably use his discount and get you two pairs. Just, you know, try not to wear them in the sewers or you're gonna stink."

"Got it." But that makes me wonder, do I already stink? I mean, I showered, but are my clothes going to have permanent sewer stink on them? And how am I going to do laundry? Ah, being a human is so much work—

"It's right down there," Casey interrupts, nodding his head towards the skate shop. I follow him in and wince at the loud, heavy metal playing through the speakers in the ceiling. Part of me wants to duck and run…but the other part is beginning to oogle at the skateboards hung up on the walls.

"You coming in or what?" I shake my head and walk quickly after Casey towards the back where the shoes are. My eyes skim the shelves and I find myself content with the choices. These are definitely cooler than what we saw in the department store.

"Here." He slides some metal, foot-shaped measuring thing out from under the bench. "Just measure your foot size and take your pick." His eyes snap back down to his phone while he moves off towards the counter, most likely to go chat with the greasy haired, wiry guy behind register that must be his friend. I roll my eyes and yank my stupid duct tape sandals off, trying to ignore the obvious snickering emanating from Casey's direction. I can hear the whispered/not really whispered conversation between him and his friend. Something about me, I'm sure. The tips of my ears burn red, but I pour my focus into finding some decent shoes.

Just when I think I can maybe get along with you, Jones, you remind me why I can't.

My thoughts continue their downward spiral, especially as Casey and his friend's snickering becomes harder to shut out. The minutes tick by, awkward, slow, fumbling. Shoes on, shoes off, like/dislike, switch, repeat. I get up and take careful steps, testing the way my toes feel against the leather. Testing size, width, styles and ignoring, ignoring, ignoring. My fingers struggle with the laces, and my brain struggles with thoughts of spontaneous violence directed towards a certain gap-toothed hockey player—

"What's with the face, Donnie?" My eyes dart up briefly before returning to the shoes I'm stuffing in the box. Did I already pick out two pairs? Oh, right—the black and the gray. They were the least awkward to wear.

He taps my forehead obnoxiously, breaking the train of thought. "Will you quit spacing out?"

The box lid won't close. Ignore, ignore, ignore. How the heck did they fit these in here with all this useless paper fluff?

Another tap—no, a flick. Hurts more, enough to drag me from my forced trance and back into the bubbling black of anger and frustration and annoyance.

"Can you stop?" My voice is a growl. I blink hard to calm down—deep breath, don't kill him—and stack the boxes beside me on the bench.

"You're totally blowing me off," he mutters. "What's up with you?"

"You know what's up with me!" I hiss. "I don't exactly appreciate being publicly taunted."

His brows arch. "Dude, what're you talking about? You're picking out some shoes, that's it. No one's even in here."

"I'm not stupid, Jones." I stand up, once again happy to be taller than him. I'd like to think it makes me more intimidating. "You don't think I can hear you and your greasy backstreet thug of a friend giggling back there? Did you just bring me with you so you can poke fun at me all day?"

"I heard that," the guy behind the counter chimes. "Look, can you two take this someplace that isn't my shop?"

"Not now, Travis!" Casey's sharp tone swats at the air before he turns his attention back to me with narrowed eyes. "Okay, first off, we weren't even talking about you." He jabs his finger at my chest. "And second off, I'm not gonna deal with you and your stupid attitude, alright? Now did you figure out which shoes you want so we can go home?"

"Yeah," I snap. "Whichever one will hurt the most when I shove it up your—"

"Excuse me." The deep voice of a passing security guard sends river shivers down my spine. I practically jump back from Casey and our heated discussion to see the guard, tall, burly, and not at all friendly, standing there with his hands on his hips and those dark, beady eyes boring into my soul. "Do we have a problem, boys?"

"U-Uh, no, sir," I stutter, stepping back. "We were just—"

"Look, buy something or get out," he growls. Bear. That's what this guy is.

Casey salutes in a fashion that seems too dramatic to be genuine. "Yes, sir." The officer glares at him like he's trying to decide whether or not he should knock Casey over the head. I, however, am all for it at this point.

"Of course, Officer," I say as politely as possible. The boxes stack up in my arms and I offer a sincere please-don't-arrest-me smile. "We were just getting ready to, uh, check out."

The guard looks me over once, twice, and then grunts, fixing his cap and moving on. A sigh of relief is drawn from my lungs—a heavy bucket from a deep, deep well.

"Nice going, Casey." The words slip past clenched teeth, but Casey just shrugs.

"Maybe you should keep your thoughts of misusing shoes to yourself." My ears heat up again, and a scowl is etched deep into my features. Casey rolls his eyes and snatches the boxes from my arms.

"Go cool off, Don. Wait outside or something. I'll text April that we're on our way to the food court."

My arms cross over my chest and I mutter something rude in response, stalking out of the store.

Deep breaths, Donatello. Deep breaths.

Today's still a good day. I'm still human, still hanging out in the outside world, still with April and Leo, still perfect everything. It's Casey who throws me into a funk. His obnoxious personality and the fact April agreed to split up are what's upsetting me. I mean, I still don't understand why she'd rather be with Leo than me—besides, Leo and Casey get along fine. What the heck is with everyone today?

"Come on." Casey's irritated tone grates on my ears. He hands me the bag with the shoes, and the one with the clothes that I must've left by the bench in there. I take both and the pulling starts on my fingers again.

"The food court's on the other side. April says she's on her way." He takes off walking ahead of me—either that, or some part of my brain has hijacked my motor controls and is keeping me from matching his pace out of spite. Either way, it's going to take a lot of strength for me not to kill him on the way there.

~T~

{April}

I finished picking out all the nice clothes and looked almost everywhere for Leo. I ended up finding him by the set of shelves that has all of the graphic T-shirts—the nerdy/dorky kind with corny one-liners and artwork for old shows that no one our age really watches anymore. He was cracking up about something one of the shirts had on it like it was the funniest thing ever. It had a picture of a stick figure holding a baby chicken, and in big letters it said: How To Pick Up Chicks.

Oh, Leo.

I mean, it makes sense. His sense of humor is corny to the point where I have to physically keep myself from cringing every time he tries to crack a joke. Of course he'd be in this section, laughing his head off while the workers stare.

It took forever to drag him away from there. We're at the counter now, and as the older girl behind the register calls us up, I glance down into the bag and realize all the clothes I picked out aren't there. Instead, I find a plethora of corny T-shirts and like, seven Space Heroes shirts. I don't even know where he found those.

"Leo!" I plop the bag on the counter, ignoring the clerk who's raising her penciled-in brows at us, and whirl around to jab an accusing finger at him. "Where's all the clothes I picked out? When did you even—ugh!"

He laughs sheepishly, takes a step back, and offers that little-kid smile, but it's not gonna work this time. My lips tug down in that frown that Casey's always teasing me about. He calls it "the Mom Face."

"Bring that stuff back!" Oh no, now I'm doing the Mom Voice, too. "Seriously, Leo!"

"Please!" he begs, clasping his hands together with an effective pout. "Come on, April, they're cool!"

"That's debatable." My hands hook onto my hips. "You didn't even try any of this on! How do you know they fit?"

"I did try them on!" he defends. "When you went to look at that dress, I stuffed them all in the bag and ran to the dressing room—and yes, they all fit."

"So all the clothes I picked out for you are where, in the dressing room?"

"Yes."

An exaggerated—but completely understandable—groan bursts from me. "How on Earth did you do all of that in the five seconds I took to look at that dress?"

His expression turns dead-pan. "Because I really wanted them."

My arms flail overhead. "Ugh!"

"Hey, are you guys gonna buy anything or what?" I turn on my heels to see the clerk staring at me. Her smudged eyeliner makes the circles under her eyes even darker while she taps her black polished nails against the counter.

"Sorry." I offer an apologetic smile. "He's, uh, new to this."

She dips her head in a sort of bored nod. "Yeah, that's why I leave the boyfriend home for shopping. They kinda suck at it."

My expression falls a little. "Oh, no, he's not my—"

"Whatever. Can I start ringing this stuff up or what?"

"Um…" As I turn back around, I see that Leo has literally dropped to his knees and is now giving me the full-on puppy dog face. I grimace and collectively slump towards the counter with a heavy sigh. "Yeah…just ring it all up."

Leo's fist punches the air. "Yes!" He pops up onto his feet and hugs me so tight, I almost die. "Thank you, April!"

"Uh-huh."

A/N: I am a difficult person to shop with. I'm so indecisive that I drive everyone crazy and take forever...so I made April like that, too, lol. I also thought it'd be a nice touch to have Leo obsess over the stupid one-liner T-shirts, just like my younger brother does.

So do you love it? Hate it? Just feeling meh? Honestly, these last few chapters have been really difficult for me to write. I think it's because this situation is just so...different. It's harder for me to get everyone's reactions aligned with their character in a way that stays true to the show. I hope I did this one justice, especially since you've all had to wait so long. And because of that, I've decided to leave a little preview of the next update...

"It'd be easier for both of us if you just talked to me," he mutters from behind as he gets into position. "Beating the crap out of each other is getting kind of old."

Something inside my chest clenches, and a white-hot tear of pain surges through me. Before I know what I'm doing, I whirl around and charge him, and all the physical fatigue simply vanishes beneath the drumming throes of betrayal and hurt.

He blocks my first blow, and the clang of metal rings in my ears.

"If I just talked to you?" I shout, seething. I yank my weapons downward, hard enough to break his block, and then I twist over and knock him into the wall with a brutal kick. His back hits the wooden panels and he grunts, stunned by the force of it. But I can't hold back, not even if I wanted to, not even if I tried, because it's too much—all of this is too much—

He barely ducks in time to evade the fist I smash into the wall where his head just was. Dropping to the floor, he makes a sloppy roll to escape, but I'm faster, stronger, and so very, very angry. His ankle ends up in my fist, our proportions so vastly different than before, and with a grunt, I throw him clear across this side of the room. He yelps and manages to soften his landing by tumbling on his back, but he's still too jarred to move quick enough.

"I've tried to talk to you!" I swipe my blades through the air. "That's what we agreed on, right?" Again and again, my sai slice through nothingness, just barely evading his skin, scraping walls as he scrambles away from my raging form.

"Raph," he starts, the fear thick in his voice. "You need to calm down—"

"Don't tell me what to do!" I scream. The prongs of my blades catch one of his katanas mid-arc, and I rip the weapon out of his grasp with a sharp jerk. The sword clatters to the floor, useless without the hand of its owner...