This is not what I was supposed to write next. It isn't even the chapter of 'More things change' I was intending to write next. It jumped into my head earlier in the week, ambushing me. Hope you enjoy it regardless.
InSilva has already read it and was, as always, helpful and reassuring and generally wonderful. Can't thank her enough. And apparently aren't going to try.
Oh, also? I swear my chapters are getting longer. Sorry 'bout that.
Timeline! Yay!
1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
3. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve
4. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
5. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
6. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
7. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.
8. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
9. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
10. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
11. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
12. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen
13. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
14. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
15. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
16. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
17. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
18. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.
It was ridiculous, Patricia decided. Completely ridiculous. It had been three days. Just three days! That was no time at all and she knew it. Gina was right. Lucy was right. She was being silly and she was overreacting. There was no need for her to be miserable, just because she hadn't seen Danny for three days. She stared down at the book in front of her and tried to focus. The project was due at the end of the month, after all.
Except it wasn't just that she missed him. Danny was sick, and she hadn't seen him for three days. It had started off with a head cold and a sore throat that had, as Rusty had earnestly assured him, made him sound like Donald Duck. And it hadn't got better. Not all week, and on Friday, Rusty had apparently had more than enough and had dragged him to the doctor who had diagnosed the flu and had prescribed bed rest and lots of it. And the last time Patricia had seen him had been the Thursday night, when he'd fallen asleep the moment she'd left the room to make him a hot drink. She'd smiled and kissed him and covered him with the blanket and pretended she didn't hear when he sleepily thanked someone else. Since then, every time she went round to his house, Danny's mom had refused to let her in. And she'd gone as soon as Rusty told her on Friday, and three times on Saturday, twice on Sunday and immediately after school today. She wasn't fussing. She wasn't getting a chance to; every time she rang the bell, Danny's mom was there, scowling and saying that Danny was sleeping and too sick for visitors. And that was reasonable, of course it was. She'd never put her loneliness over Danny's health. It was just that she couldn't help but wonder if Danny might not be lonely. And she wondered if Danny's mom was letting Rusty in. Somehow, she doubted it. From everything she'd seen, and everything Danny had inadvertently let slip, she really doubted it. She sighed; it wasn't fair. None of it was.
The librarian walked round the corner, scowling and pointedly turning off the lights. Patricia blinked; it couldn't be eight already? She checked. It was. So much for getting all her research done. She closed the book, put it back on the shelf, with an apologetic smile at the librarian, and walked out the library. The door was immediately locked behind her. Ah. It was like that.
She slowed at the top of the steps, squinting into the dusk. There was a figure, half slumped over, sitting on the bottom step. And there was no sign of her dad's car. She hated waiting at night. Nervous, she bit her lip and glanced back at the building over her shoulder. Nearly all the lights were out now. There was no help there. Keeping a wide berth, she walked down the rest of the steps, glancing sideways all the time, watching and scared.
Of all things, it was the red sneakers that she suddenly recognised. She dashed over and dropped to her knees beside him. "Rusty?" She was afraid to shake him. Afraid to move him without knowing what was going on. "Rusty!"
"Patricia?" He sounded confused. He sounded like the child he wasn't. But he looked up at her, blinking, and even in the darkness she could see he'd been attacked. Could see his face was swollen and purple and bloodied.
"Yes," she agreed, her voice shaking a little. "Stay there, I'm going to call an ambulance." She looked round, trying to think where the nearest payphone was.
He struggled, managing to sit up straight."What?" His hand went to his face. "Oh." He smiled at her, open and reassuring. "'S nothing. Was just waiting for Johnny or Brady or someone."
He sounded so definite. Like he thought she was overreacting. But his words were falling over each other and he was trembling so hard. "Are you sure?"
There was a pause and his voice seemed to come from far away. "Course." He smiled again. "I've had worse."
'When?' was on the tip of her tongue, but she choked the question back and tried to concentrate. "There's no-one else in the library, Rusty. I was the last out."
Rusty sighed and seemed to waver a little more into focus. "They said they were going to study after school. Guess they must have finished up early and gone home."
"Do you want to go there?" Maybe one of his friends could get him to hospital. She didn't know what else to do. But he was here and she was here, and he was hurt, and even if she was a different sort of person, even if that somehow didn't mean anything to her, he was Danny's. And that left her with a responsibility.
"No," he said immediately. "No, I don't."
That was one plan gone. "My dad's going to be here any moment," she suggested. "You could come to mine. My dad wouldn't mind." Her dad would be concerned and understanding and she knew he'd know the right thing to do, she just knew it.
He hesitated. She could see him hesitate. Please, please, please.
"Mom used to be a nurse," she added persuasively. "She could help you."
He shook his head slowly. "Thanks. No. I'll be all right. I'll head home in a bit."
She watched as he got to his feet and she saw how much effort it took and she saw that he was shaking and she knew it wasn't cold, and she stepped forwards, reached out a hand to help him, but he just looked at it and shook his head again.
It was obvious, for a few moments, that all he had the strength to do was stand there, clinging onto the wall for dear life.
"You need a doctor, Rusty," she said gently.
He shook his head but didn't answer. She didn't think he could.
"Please," she begged.
He looked up at her and his eyes were clouded. "Where's Danny?" he asked.
Her breath caught in her throat. She wished he was here. More than anything, she wished he was here. "Danny's sick, remember?"
"Yeah." He took a deep breath and he stood a little taller and a little steadier. "Yeah. Sorry, Pat. Spaced out there for a minute." His voice wasn't shaking anymore and she thought it was real. He smiled. "He misses you."
"I miss him too," she said, almost absently, studying him, looking for answers, looking for who knew what.
"He's terrible at being sick," Rusty went on fondly. "Always thinks he's missing out on something. Don't tell him," he added abruptly.
She blinked. "What?"
"Don't tell him about this," Rusty explained. "He worries."
And she cringed, a little, at the reminder that there was a 'this', that there had always been a 'this' and that they weren't reckless and clever purely for their own amusement. "Don't you think he should?" she pointed out carefully. She'd seen how they were together. Long before Danny ever asked her out. They were wound up in each other in ways that no-one else could ever dream of understanding.
He smiled again, and his arms were wrapped round his chest and she could see him trembling. "Just need to sit down. Get a coffee, or something and I'll be fine. 'S not as bad as it looks. Nothing broken."
She swallowed. "Mabel's is just two blocks over. She'll be closing up now, but I'm sure she'd - "
" - no," he interrupted firmly. "She fusses. Almost as bad as Danny. There's a place round the corner that's open late. I can stay there till it gets dark enough."
Dark enough for what, she wondered. "Okay. I'll buy you a coffee."
He shook his head but didn't seem able to speak for a long moment."You should get home," he managed at last through clenched jaw.
There was a limit to how much nonsense she was prepared to put up with. "You think Danny would like it if I left you alone?" she shot, well aware that it was a low blow.
He smiled and just about managed to focus on her. "You think Danny would like it if you went gallivanting all over town with other boys?"
Other boys . . . it took her a moment. She grinned. "Oh, I think he'd trust you."
"Hope so," he said, wearily. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered packet of cigarettes. After a couple of attempts he managed to get one out of the packet, and she could see how hard his hands were shaking as he struggled with the lighter.
She gently reached forwards and took it out of his hand and pretended she didn't see him tense. "If he wasn't sick, you'd be at his place right now, wouldn't you?" she asked, lighting his cigarette for him.
He nodded and inhaled gratefully. "He's supposed to rest. Not worry."
And that was ridiculous. It really was. "He is going to notice eventually you know. Unless you have super powers."
"I do," he said seriously. "I do have super powers."
"What happened?" she asked quietly.
"Usual." He shrugged and his face stilled in a way that suggested he'd regretted it. He took a long drag and managed to speak again. "Walk down the wrong street, call the wrong person a chicken and see what happens."
"Uh huh." She let it go and turned round sharply at the sound of a car. Her dad's car, and she was overjoyed.
"Thanks, Pat," Rusty said quietly behind her.
She didn't understand what he was thanking her for, but there were more important things on her mind. "Just let me go talk to him, okay? He can give you a lift wherever you want." Actually, it would either be back to theirs or to the hospital. But she didn't think she should tell him that.
Her dad smiled at her and wound down the window when she knocked. "Dad! Listen, my . . ." She hesitated momentarily, unsure of exactly how to describe the relationship. 'My boyfriend's unofficial little brother' seemed slightly complicated. " . . my friend is hurt and he needs help so can we take him back to mom, or to hospital or something?"
He looked worried. "Of course. Where is he?"
"He's right there," she frowned, and she turned round.
Rusty was nowhere in sight.
Buzz hated Tuesdays mornings. Actually, Buzz just hated mornings generally. Or at least school mornings. The guys upstairs had had a party last night and the very last thing he needed was to find himself surrounded by hordes of screaming kids, fighting to get into school. He already had a hangover. This wasn't helping.
He tried glaring down at a couple of the loudest ones and their terrified expressions made him happy. He loved having a reputation and the balls to back it up. Wasn't like any of the munchkins knew that he'd never lay a finger on them. Say what you like; he wasn't like that. Unfortunately he was so busy being intimidating that he wasn't paying close enough attention to where he was going, and he walked bang into another kid who'd stopped dead just in front of him. And he was about to open his mouth and give the little runt what for, when he recognised him and paused.
Rusty Ryan. Stood in the middle of the sidewalk, his head turned towards the main entrance. Not even noticing that Buzz had just fallen over him. Well, that couldn't be good.
It was always odd to see him on his own. Buzz must have seen him alone a thousand times, but somehow, when he thought about Rusty Ryan, he thought about Danny Ocean. And he'd known Rusty longer – they'd lived all their lives in the same neighbourhood after all, and he could remember his older sister bringing home an unattended blond toddler and feeding him candy while Buzz and Chip taught him to swear - and he knew Ocean better – they had a couple of the same classes and they'd hung out a bit when they were kids and for those bewildering weeks, a few years back, when Ocean and Rusty had had that mysterious falling out – but still, he found himself thinking of them in the same breath. Just seemed like they'd always been together. And Rusty was probably the only kid that age that Buzz would recognise. Certainly the only one he liked, let alone admired.
Curiously he glanced in the direction of the school; to where Rusty was looking. The only unusual thing he could see was Mr Wishart, standing on the steps, frowning in their direction.
"Rusty?" he called, confused, and Rusty looked round sharply and Buzz grimaced. The kid was beat to hell. Again. Wasn't like that was anything new. Didn't mean that Buzz approved.
There was a second, and an unidentifiable look and then Rusty gave him what might have been described as an apologetic smile, and punched him in the jaw.
Buzz stared, only vaguely aware of the people around them stopping, forming into a circle, the steady chanting - Fight, fight, fight, fight. His hand went to his face. It didn't hurt. Not that he'd have expected a punch from a scrawny thirteen year old to hurt. But it really, really hadn't. It had been done purely for the look of the thing. And he looked over Rusty's shoulder to Mr Wishart, heading towards them now, and he looked at Rusty's face, dark purple and swollen, and he shook his head. "No. Rusty, no."
There was that look again, and then Rusty grinned. "What's the matter, Buzz?" His voice was raised. Playing to the crowd. "Scared?" He stepped a little closer and whispered. "Please, Buzz. I need your help."
'I' need your help. Not words that you heard from either of them very often. They'd spoke in plurals as long as Buzz had known them. And that had been a long time. And they almost never needed help. But he couldn't do this. He really couldn't do this. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can't."
Rusty punched him in the chest. Little harder than last time. Still not intended to hurt. "Please," he begged, desperation in his voice.
"Come on, Buzz! Kill him!" He glanced over to Norris Carrol and made a mental note to rip the bastard's head off at the first opportunity. So many people chanting for blood. Couldn't they see there'd been enough already?
Mr Wishart was running now, heading for the gate, and he looked at the pleading expression on Rusty's face and he hated himself. He clenched his fist and swung.
The 'fight' was short. And Buzz hated every punch.
They were sitting outside the office. Apparently the principal was busy and after a couple of scowls and a few disappointed looks they'd been left completely on their own. Told to think about what they'd done, like naughty children. And Buzz was angry and Rusty was just sitting there, swinging his legs and using the cold compress the nurse had given him to smear the trickle of blood from his mouth and eyebrow over his face, as authentically as possible.
Rusty had walked into the punch. He'd walked into the punch. Buzz had seen him do it. Had seen him watch and calculate and throw himself in front of Buzz's fist so that instead of the glancing blow that Buzz had meant it to be, it had split his lip all over again. Couple of seconds later he'd done the exact same thing again; re-opening the graze over his eyebrow.
With a start, he found himself choking back a laugh. Sure. Rusty had walked into his fist. It had been an accident. Hell, maybe he'd even had it coming. That was a good one. Simple fact was, he'd just beat up a skinny, battered, thirteen year old kid. Wasn't nothing was going to make that better.
"You okay?" Rusty asked, suddenly.
He gritted his teeth. "Fine. You?"
Rusty shrugged and smiled, painfully. "Been better."
"I'll bet," he muttered.
"Been a while since I was here," Rusty commented, idly.
"In daylight anyway. Right?" He knew damned well what they got up to. Hell, coupla months back, he and some guys had broken into the school themselves, just to mess about. They'd had a couple of bottles, couple of spray cans. Nothing really planned. And then the cops had shown up, and there'd been lights and sirens and he'd been panicking, already thinking about what he was going to tell his mom, and then, suddenly, Danny and Rusty - dressed all in black, silent and confident - had stepped out of the administration office and had quietly led them out and away from the cops. Then they'd been given a quick lesson on basic breaking and entering. Not using flashlights near windows. Not leaving doors obviously open. Always having another escape route planned. From anyone else it might have seemed patronising. From those two there had just been amusement and – what was that stupid phrase Chip always used? Oh yeah. Joie de vivre. That was them.
Rusty grinned and said nothing. Buzz watched him rubbing at his knuckles, trying to make them look a little more scraped.
"Stop that," he said, harshly.
There was a pause. "It'll look better if I look like I've hit you."
Buzz gritted his teeth. "You could have done that by actually hitting me." Not that he thought for a second that the kid could have done any damage. But it might have made him feel a little better.
Rusty sighed and leaned forwards. "Look. They see me looking like this and not looking like I attacked you, they're going to paint a picture we don't want them to paint."
"Right." They would make him out to be the sort of guy who got his kicks out of beating on little children who couldn't hit back.
"I'm going to make sure you don't get in trouble," Rusty assured him. "We got a lot of witnesses that I started it."
"And they're going to take one look at you and think that I finished it," Buzz pointed out.
He was fixed with an appraising look. "It was my fault. You won't get into trouble."
"Right," he nodded. And the terrible thing was, he had no doubt that Rusty would be able to sit there, looking like he'd been hit by a truck, and convince the adults that it was all his own fault. And he had no doubt that Rusty would go on to convince the rest of the kids in school that the fight had been a fight, not an attack. Wasn't anyone that was going to think worse of Buzz for this except himself. (And Ocean.) He sighed and glanced sideways. "You know they're going to suspend you for this, right?"
"Hoping to talk them down to a few detentions," Rusty said with a broad, innocent smile. As if butter wouldn't melt.
He wouldn't be surprised if the manipulative little bastard didn't manage it, either. But that didn't actually change the point. "They're going to want to talk to your dad."
Rusty nodded slowly, and the smile vanished and Buzz watched as he took a deep breath and he pretended not to notice when he winced and his arm wrapped tightly around his ribs. Had to leave the kid his pride.
His lips were dry. With a sudden thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his hip flask. He took a quick drink and, trying to act casual, he pushed it towards Rusty. "You want some?"
Rusty looked at him thoughtfully. "Thanks." He took a drink and took a long and shuddering breath and a couple of the lines of pain in his face seemed to vanish. "Thanks." He looked down at the flask. "It's nice."
"Was my grandpa's," Buzz told him. It was silver and about four times as old as he was. He always thought that was pretty amazing.
Silently, Rusty handed it back to him.
Buzz shook his head. "Nah. You look like you need it more than I do. Drink as much as you want, and give me the flask back at the end of the day." At the back of his mind, he realised that he was giving his most precious possession to a kid he knew to be light-fingered. But not trusting Rusty Ryan just didn't come naturally.
"Thanks," Rusty said again. He took another drink and the flask vanished into his jacket. Buzz could only hope it would help a little.
"Ocean still out sick?" he asked, acting casual, and then a horrible thought struck him. "He is sick, right? He didn't fall down the stairs too?"
There was a quick look and he wondered if Rusty was considering lying. Making up some other reason for him to have a thousand bruises and a need to hide them. At this point that would be insulting. But Rusty sighed. "He's sick. I'm the clumsy one."
Buzz nodded and bit his lip. "You ever need a place to stay for the night . . . if you can't go to Ocean's for whatever reason." He shrugged. "No questions asked, you understand?" His mom had thrown his own father out nearly seven years ago now. But he could still remember what it was like. The yelling. The fear. He'd walked into a lot of doors, back then.
Rusty hesitated. "You're not going to . . . " he trailed off, nervously.
And Buzz had agreed to help him. He wasn't going to hit the kid and then turn round and point out that some other asshole had done it first. That would only make things worse. "I beat you up. No-one else."
Rusty smiled at him, bright and relieved. "Thanks. I owe you one."
"Don't." Buzz could feel something twist inside him and he snarled at the look of puzzlement Rusty shot him. "You ever say that again – you ever think that again – I'll take it out on Ocean. He'll be eating through a straw for a month. You understand me?"
There was a long moment. Rusty stared at him, and he watched as the first, instinctive spark of anger and protectiveness faded to understanding and almost-apology.
Patricia had not had a good day. There'd been far too much on her mind, and everyone had just dismissed it as more of her missing Danny. Which she was. It just wasn't the only thing on her mind.
She and her dad had searched the streets surrounding the library for nearly half an hour last night before she admitted that Rusty had gone. And she hadn't known where he lived. Seemed as though there'd been nothing she could do, and she'd hated that feeling, and she'd wanted to run to Danny, to seek comfort, to ask for help, just to tell him. It had taken Dad a long time to convince her that she was overreacting. And she knew that he was beginning to feel that she was a little too serious about Danny.
Maybe she was. But she'd never met anyone like him. Never known anyone so thoughtful, so magical. And even though it made her feel like a silly little girl, she could imagine spending the rest of her life with him. Sometimes she dreamt about the future. Dreamt about her and Danny staying together. Going to the same college. Somewhere close enough that Rusty could come over on weekends. Until he got old enough to come too, and then, maybe, they'd all live in the same house. Danny would like that. They'd be happy. There'd be no danger, nothing to be afraid of. No reason for them to think of anything other than growing up and being the very best they could.
Sometimes she thought about telling Danny about her dream. She didn't even understand why she hadn't; she knew he wouldn't laugh. Maybe it would even make him smile. But she didn't know what Danny dreamed of.
She sighed and walked out of the empty classroom. Mr Fuller had let her stay late to work on a presentation. Well, he hadn't exactly let her. More like he hadn't said that she couldn't. And she was just thinking how strange it was to be standing in the school, knowing it was practically empty, when she heard something. Coming from downstairs. Yelling and what sounded like a scuffle. Eyes wide, she ran towards the noise.
Mr Ontaro was dragging someone down the corridor. Was dragging Rusty down the corridor. "You think I don't know it was you? What, do you think I'm an idiot? There's no-one else here and someone was in the office."
He had his hand clasped firmly round Rusty's arm. And Patricia could see Rusty's face and it frightened her. She called out before she stepped into the corridor. Before they knew she'd seen them. "Rusty, did you find . . . " She stopped, immediately in front of them, and she could only hope that she was managing to look suitably shocked and confused. "What's going on?"
Mr Ontaro glared at her, uncomfortably. "Miss Holmes, this doesn't concern you." He'd stopped though, and hastily let go of Rusty's arm. And he seemed to be thinking about what he was doing. Which was good.
"What did you do?" she asked Rusty, her eyes wide. "You were only away for a minute."
A pause, and she could feel Mr Ontaro staring at her, but she didn't dare look, because she knew he would see through her in a second. But she hardly ever lied. And she'd never been caught. And she had a reputation as a good girl, and please, please, let it count for something.
There was a flicker of appreciation in Rusty's eyes. "I don't know!" he whispered loudly. "I was just heading for the drinking fountain when I heard someone run past, and then someone else grabbed me and I thought maybe Buzz was mad about this morning, but it was Mr Ontaro."
"Well, why didn't you speak up, you stupid child!" Mr Ontaro sounded angry, but Patricia could see the embarrassment he was trying to hide.
Rusty stepped back hastily and looked down at the floor. "Sorry, sir" he said, quiet and ashamed, and Patricia knew he was a good liar.
"Miss Holmes, you say that Mr Ryan was with you?"
She nodded determinedly. "Yes, Mr Ontaro, he was. He was helping me with a list of his classmates who might be open to the possibility of a campaign for nuclear disarmament. Incidentally, did you know that - "
" - yes, that's quite enough, Miss Holmes. You know that the school board disapproves of attempts to politicise your fellow students." He frowned at her and she bit her lip, terrified she would giggle. Fortunately, he seemed to assume she was contrite. "Mr Ryan, you said that you heard someone run past you?"
Rusty didn't look up. "Yes sir. I did sir. But I didn't see who it was."
Mr Ontaro scowled. "Look at people when they're talking to you boy," he said severely, and he stepped forwards, his hand extended as if to wrench Rusty's head up.
Patricia swallowed hard as Rusty flinched back and threw his arm up to protect his face. Mr Ontaro backed off immediately. And she could see the discomfort on the teacher's face, and she didn't understand when he immediately started stuttering out his excuses.
"I need to . . .that is, I should . . ." He paused. "Which way did he run?"
Rusty pointed down the corridor silently
Mr Ontaro left.
There was a long silence and then Rusty smiled at her. "Want to get out of here?"
She nodded. "Sure."
They walked down the stairs, as far away from Mr Ontaro as they could get. Patricia looked sideways at him, wondering.
He sighed. "What?"
"I was wondering why he left like that?" If she'd seen . . . if she'd frightened someone like that, she'd have wanted . . . she didn't know. But she wouldn't have ran.
Rusty didn't look at her. "He's angling for another job. Private school. Better money. Last thing he wants to deal with right now is anything complicated. And now, now he thinks I'm complicated."
She bit at her lip. "Are you?"
"No." He grinned. "I'm pretty straightforward."
"So that was . . . I mean, you weren't . . ." She didn't know how to ask.
"I lie a lot, Pat," he told her gently and even if that wasn't exactly an answer, she had to accept that.
"Do you need to go back to the office?" she asked, wondering if he'd finished whatever he'd been doing.
He shook his head. "Nah. It's done. Was fixing some detentions."
And that was something else that had been bothering her. "You got detention for being beaten up by Buzz this morning?"
He hesitated. "Something like that."
"That's completely unfair!" she exploded. "He's four years older than you! He should be suspended at least. The police should be involved. I mean, I always thought he was one of the good guys!"
Rusty had stopped walking. He stared at her, and for the first time she could remember it was less than friendly. "Buzz is one of the good guys. I started that fight, Pat. It was my fault. And I was getting him out of detention, not me."
"Why?" It was all she could ask.
"Can't tell you." His gaze was level and direct and of course he couldn't. "But it really wasn't him. And you can tell that to anyone who asks."
She nodded and wondered what Danny would say.
They started walking again. "Thanks for the alibi. You didn't have to do that."
"Oh." She blinked. "Do you know, I didn't even think? I mean, I knew you'd have done whatever he said you'd done. Suppose I just didn't want you in trouble anyway."
He looked at her for a long moment and smiled. "I'm going to see Danny. Want to come with?"
"His mom let's you in?" She felt a strange stab of jealousy. "She won't let me in."
"I don't ask permission," he explained, with a hint of dark amusement. "Oh, I need to pick up a few things for him first."
"Rusty . . . " She trailed off, wondering how she could explain that she didn't mind what they got up to, and probably she'd always be willing to jump in to get either of them out of trouble, but somehow, there were some things that she wasn't prepared to stand and watch.
Rusty shot a puzzled frown at her and then suddenly seemed to get it. He laughed. "Don't worry," he assured her. "I was planning on paying."
It had taken a while to persuade Rusty to stop in the café. Despite the fact that he was looking tired, and was obviously in pain, in the end she'd claimed that she needed to sit down. And she got that he wanted to get to Danny's as soon as possible – had got that from the way that they'd practically ran through shops, buying books and magazines and video tapes and medicine and food, and she'd wondered whether he was working off a list or just guessing at what Danny would want. And of course, she wanted to see Danny too, it was just that she thought that Danny would be more pleased to see them if Rusty didn't look like he was on the brink of passing out. Besides. Any time there was shopping involved, she ended up really needing a coffee.
She watched Rusty press his glass against his face and couldn't help but ask. "What happened?"
He set the glass down and looked at her evenly. "Lot's of things happen. What do you mean?"
"Last night," she said, patiently. "What happened last night?"
"Oh." He shrugged painfully. "I told you. I got jumped by a group of guys who didn't like me very much."
She knew that wasn't true. She'd always known that wasn't true. And she knew he didn't owe her the truth, but she'd been so scared last night, she was so scared now, and she'd lied for him. "What would Danny say if I asked him?"
"Don't ask him," Rusty said, quickly and intensely and that stung.
"Are you worried he wouldn't lie for you or that he'd lie to me?" She knew it was unfair. She asked anyway.
Rusty sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, when he looked at her, he looked so much older than his years. So much older than her. "Either would hurt him. You know that. Don't ask him."
She stared at him for a long moment, and for a second, before she pushed all thought of it away firmly, it occurred to her that if he was a few years older, she'd be facing an impossible choice. Impulsively she reached across the table and took his hand. "I could never take him away from you. Even if I wanted to. I couldn't. You know that, right?"
"Sure." He gently took his hand away.
She frowned. "What?"
He sighed and smiled sadly at her. "Everything ends, Pat. Nothing is forever. People change and grow up. And Danny is meant for better things than . . . " He waved a hand, and she didn't know if he meant their school, their town or the world. "Danny deserves better."
She couldn't believe it, and she thought about the way that Danny smiled when he said Rusty's name, and the fact that Rusty had just casually spent more money than she'd expect to see in a month on Danny. To make Danny happy. "You think he'd - "
" - you think I'd stand in his way?" he asked, and she realised that he didn't expect her to understand. And he wasn't going to explain.
She stared up at the tree, apprehensively. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked.
Rusty smiled at her, and he could stop being so amused, for a start. "Course it is. It's easy. Done it a hundred times before."
Honestly, she couldn't help but look at him doubtfully. But she was willing to give it a try. "You first," she decided.
"Might be easier if you went first," he said thoughtfully, squinting up at the tree. "Be easier for me to help you that way."
She nodded patiently. "I'm wearing a skirt, Rusty."
"I'll go first," he said immediately.
"Thank you." She shook her head and grinned.
She watched him carefully. Saw where he put his hands and tried her best to imitate him. And, sure, once upon a time she'd climbed trees with her brothers. But that had been a long time ago. The best she could say now was that she didn't actually fall down. It was all definitely less than dignified. But there was Danny, and it was worth it.
Rusty got the window open somehow; she couldn't see the details and scrambled inside. "Brought you something," he called out cheerfully.
There was a brief coughing fit in reply and then she heard Danny croak out "Unless it's a shotgun, I'm not interested."
She followed Rusty in through the window. "I could go away if you like," she offered with a smile.
Danny had been lying on the sofa, facing the TV which was showing something she didn't recognise, but people with unlikely haircuts were staring intently at each other, so it was a fair bet it was a soap of some kind. As soon as he heard her voice he sat up, and the smile on his face almost made her blush. "Hi." Probably unconsciously he made an effort to straighten his hair. Since he looked flushed and sick, it was probably a wasted effort, but she appreciated the sentiment. "How was . . . "
He trailed off. And his eyes were hard and his mouth was angry, and he wasn't looking at her anymore.
"You look better than you did yesterday," Rusty said brightly after the slightest pause.
"You don't," Danny said levelly.
Rusty shrugged. "Can't all be handsome."
"Rus'", Danny sighed, and he made as if to stand up which sparked another coughing fit.
She started forwards, but Rusty was already there, and he produced a glass of water from nowhere and knelt in front of Danny and helped him drink it.
"Thanks," Danny said, and he was still staring at Rusty's face.
"Got stupid," Rusty's voice was quiet and she didn't think it was for her ears. She wished she could leave them alone; seemed as though they needed it. "It's okay. Really, it is."
Danny made an abortive movement, as though he'd been reaching out to touch Rusty's face, but he glanced over at her and dropped his hand. (And she wished...) He looked at both of them and smiled. "So. What did you bring me?"
"Everything," Patricia groaned, pointing at the overflowing backpack Rusty had dropped on the floor.
"Chicken soup, tissues, more medicine - "
" - thanks," Danny interrupted. "Down to my last - "
" - I know," Rusty told him. "Oranges, ginger ale, soda crackers and more juice."
Danny made a face.
"It's all good for you," Patricia pointed out.
"That's what he says," Danny complained. "Pretty sure it's just old wives' tales."
Rusty shrugged. "Well, Mabel was the one who told me. You want to tell her she's wrong, go ahead."
Danny nodded and smiled. "I'll pass. What else?"
"Couple of magazines, your homework if you get really bored, my homework if you get even boreder - "
" - more bored - " Patricia interjected automatically.
" - chocolate, popcorn and movies."
Danny pursed his lips. "Okay. Guess you can stay."
"Thanks." Rusty rolled his eyes. "Because listening to you cough and sneeze is just the highlight of my day." Immediately Danny did sneeze and Rusty pulled the tissues out of the backpack. "Here," he said gently. "You do look better."
"I feel better," Danny told him. "It's just that 'better' still feels like I should have been buried a week ago." He paused. "You taken painkillers?"
"Yeah," Rusty nodded. "I told you. It's okay. Just bruises. Inside and out."
There was silence, and Patricia held her breath, somehow reluctant to break the moment.
Rusty stood up. "I'm going to go reheat the soup."
"Richard is here," Danny said immediately, and Rusty hesitated.
"I'll be careful," he promised, eventually.
"Yeah," Danny nodded.
She knew that Richard was Danny's mom's 'special friend', and she knew Danny didn't like him, and neither did Rusty. And that, after all, was perfectly normal and perfectly understandable. Right up to the point where she'd swear that he frightened them. Just a little. But that was a little more than she was comfortable with.
The door closed behind Rusty and she walked round the sofa and bent down to kiss Danny.
"Careful," he warned her, reluctantly. "You don't want to catch - "
" - I don't care," she told him fiercely. "I've missed you."
She held him close and kissed him tenderly and this was what she wanted.
Danny smiled at her, as she snuggled up next to him on the sofa. "I missed you too."
"I've been by," she said quickly. "Your mom said you needed to rest."
"You came to visit?" he looked gratified. "She didn't mention."
She tried to look at least a little surprised. "I suppose it slipped her mind," she offered.
Danny grinned and kissed her quickly. "Right," he said, voice full of irony.
"Is she going to be very angry if she finds me and Rusty here?" she asked slowly.
"Don't much care," Danny shrugged. "But she won't. She comes in to check on me a few times a day. Rusty was here from Friday till Monday morning, and he just hid in the bathroom and she didn't notice."
Right. She'd probably have a few words to describe exactly how insane that was. But she kept her mouth shut.
"So, how have you been?" Danny smiled. "Been seeing any other boys while I've been away?"
She grinned. "Just the one," she said, making herself comfortable against his arm.
"Really?" he asked and she loved the amused self-confidence in his voice, loved that they were playing, that the insecurity that other girls talked about in their boyfriends was just nowhere in his mind.
"Uh huh," she nodded. "He's handsome and funny and smarter than you. And you know how I feel about blonds."
"Right." Danny laughed. "Trying to make me jealous of my best friend?"
She smiled and wondered if she should tell him about the library and how vulnerable he'd seemed, and how frightened she'd been. She wondered if she should tell him about Mr Ontaro, and the look on Rusty's face, and the horrible moment when he'd flinched. She wondered if she should tell him about Rusty's conviction that they weren't forever. She wondered if there was anything she could tell him that he didn't already know. "Can't be done," she said simply, and held his hand.
Rusty came in a few moments later, holding a mug of soup. He'd knocked first, and Danny had rolled his eyes.
"What movies did you get?" Danny asked, when they were all comfortably curled up on the sofa, ensconced in blankets, surrounded by chocolate and, in Danny's case, tissues.
"'Carrie', 'A Star is Born' and 'One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest'," Rusty said, stretching with a wince.
Danny stared at him. "What, were you just not feeling happy?"
Rusty grinned.
"What else did you get?" Danny asked, with a knowing smile.
"'Young Frankenstein', 'Some Like it Hot' and 'You Only Live Twice'," Rusty admitted happily.
"'James Bond," Danny requested immediately.
Patricia shook her head, severely. "Honestly. Boys. Offer them art and they want car chases."
"What?" Danny demanded, mock-outrage in his voice. "I'm sick. I get to choose Connery over Nicholson."
"Besides," Rusty added with a smile. "There's a gyrocopter chase, too."
She rolled her eyes and prepared to settle in and enjoy the movie.
Danny fell asleep five minutes into 'Some Like it Hot', holding her hand, his head on Rusty's shoulder.
Rusty smiled at her over Danny's head. "I'll wake him up in time for Marilyn." She threw a handful of popcorn at him, and he laughed and dodged.
Danny was sick and Rusty was hurt and she was sure she shouldn't feel this happy.
It was Thursday when Buzz walked out of shop class in time to see Ocean standing at the bottom of the stairs, cigarette in his hand, expression of quiet death on his face.
He nodded to the guys to go ahead without him and slowed to stand in front of Ocean, who fixed him with a long, calm stare, dropped his cigarette and ground it beneath his heel, and turned and led Buzz out of the building.
Buzz followed without hesitation. Some things were owed.
"Glad to see you feeling better," he said to Ocean, when they finally stopped.
Ocean nodded. His hands were in his pockets, and he still didn't speak, and Buzz felt a spark of curiosity. Because if it had been him, he'd have started off by pounding the guy into the dust. And he hadn't been sure what Ocean would do, but he'd thought that it would probably make his way look merciful. This, he didn't understand at all. After all, he had no doubt at all that the moment Ocean set foot in the school there had been twenty people surrounding him, desperate to tell about the fight. That was just the way it worked, and it was Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan. Wasn't like he'd been expecting to be forgiven.
And he thought, not for the first time, about his older brother Chip. His geeky older brother. Two years older, one foot shorter and a thousand miles smarter. He thought about when they were young, and Chip hiding him under the bed and taking his punishment. He thought about when Max Durham had smashed Chip's science project and Buzz had smashed Max's nose in return. He thought about when Chip had spent all evening fixing Buzz's radio instead of doing his homework, because he knew Buzz hated to sleep in silence. He thought about last month, when he'd sold his car to give Chip a little help with his tuition. It was about what was important.
He did understand. And if Ocean wanted to smack the shit out of him, he wasn't going to put up any more than a token fight. He had it coming.
Ocean was still looking at him. "He told me," he said quietly. "He told me he asked you to."
Buzz was honestly surprised. He'd have thought that Rusty would have wanted to keep it as quiet as possible. "Oh," was all he managed to say.
Ocean laughed. "Think he thought if he explained it first I wouldn't want to kill you."
"And you do," Buzz said. It wasn't a question.
"Yeah," Ocean nodded. "I really do." He turned away sharply. "You hit him. Do you have any idea . . . " He shook his head slowly and spun back to face Buzz. "I should pay you back the same way. You hit him."
Buzz braced himself. He already knew that Ocean could hit hard, when he wanted to.
But Ocean just looked at him and shook his head. "I told him I wouldn't. Not this way and not any other way either."
"Oh," Buzz said stupidly. He wondered why it meant anything. If it was him and Chip, he wouldn't let anything stop him from punishing anyone responsible.
"And I don't lie to him," Ocean continued. "Ever. So you're safe."
That wasn't fair. That wasn't . . . it wasn't right.
Ocean was still looking at him. "Don't ever do it again." He smiled, widely. "I'll be watching you."
Buzz watched Danny walk away and wondered how much he really understood.
Thanks for reading.