Part Four

The funeral was- someday cold and windy. We went to a church, but I don't think Dakota's mom or stepdad put forth a whole lot of effort.

I'd brought in a boquet when most people simply brought in a single flower, saying there were no more at the store.

His mom really- she was sad. But the stepdad brought in a single flower, so I heard against her wishes- wrinkled, and fake- looking. And guess what, at the end of the ceremony, he took them back. That really pissed me off.

He took back the flowers he had for his own kid.

So that was two funerals in the past year- a vulgar place this seemed to be. First, a family member, now a good friend.

I cried, not understanding why just as much as with my family member, even though this was less self-inflicted.

I heard he'd walked onto the road- but that was only one driver, the donut driver, after he was told that for killing a minor, there would be severe charges or something. So basically they blackmailed him into saying the kid did that of his own will, and everyone else was a victim. I think he had a self-employed lawyer who didn't care a whole lot about kids.

IDK anymore. IDK.

We moved out of the trailer, and I took one last run through the little forest nearby. It was calm, peaceful, and even more so nice now that I'd turned my phone off. I crawled up the side of a hunting cabin, pluging in my headphones as soon as I had gotten to the top. There was a perfect outline of the entire area- outlined in aging trees, and thin spiderwebs.

It was beautiful.

The sun was out, and the sky was blue- the sun wasn't setting, it was a few hours from that point- yet it was still pretty. I'd gotten another day off school, today was my last day off, and I'd spent the day simply- being.

That's probably what I would've done anyways, but it still felt new and different. It felt nice, like everything else.

I guess you could say I'd gotten over the funeral in the week that'd come after it, but then you would partially be lying. I'd never gotten over my cousin, either, though.

It was still a touchy subject, I'd even jumped in class when my english teacher had rattled off the five w's:

Who,

What,

When,

Where,

and

Why?

I stopped my thoughts in their tracks. Listening to Billy Holliday on this fine eavening was enough emotion for me at this point- I didn't need anything else to bug me.

So that's what I did. I blocked out everything but the blue skies, and the green trees, and translucent spiderwebs.

I even blocked out the eavening sounds of wildlife. Grazing deer passed, absentmindedly acknowledging me. I acknowledged them too, trying to at least be nice to them- if not anyone else. And the squirrels, and the nearby bee, whom I tried too hard to disregard. And the whistling of the trees when the animals became reclusive.

I thought, and thought, and closed my eyes to think a little more.

Ever since we'd moved into the trailer court, I'd been doing nothing but speeding through life.

I'd wanted to get my permit- and my license more than ANYTHING in the world, and I was also ready just to move. To have something change. Drama has been a big part of my life- I could probably make an entire 1,000 page novel on how eventful it's been in my past. From Bee Stings, to my first ER trip, and even just normal things for me- it would be lying if I said that my life was uneventful.

I opened my eyes, energetic. That's what I would do. I'd write. Become a famous author, and write. I'd write the world of my woes- so that I didn't have to tell anyone, no one had to listen to me, and I wouldn't be holding everything up in my chest like some sort of bomb, ready to explode after two days.

The energy swept out of me as soon as I was up though, and I took the now wild songs out of my ears. Billy Holliday had gotten randomed for some head banging song off of a Soundtrack.

I sat still for a few seconds, but my peaceful- I looked at the clock on my IPod- HOUR.

An HOUR?!?! Oh, dad was going to flip. And no calls home either. That ten minute trip had drastically turned to times six.

Ohhhhh, this was gonna be bad.....

I stood, quickly, almost too quickly, and my head swarmed with my bloodloss, and the sudden freak-out session.

The hunting deck underneath me- (only supported by five long planks beat far into the ground)- shivered, or maybe I wavered first, moving it. But either way, it was moving, and so was I- right off the side of the hut. Backwards.

My breath caught as I felt the edge of the boards underneath my feet, then open air. My heart soared, and I think my face turned purple with the loss of air. I was screaming- with no sound. My head was screaming, and I was ready to puke I was so worked up.

I waited, waited for the crash, thinking; Classic doesn't die like this. She dies after going insane and a suicidal mission. Not by falling off the side of a fifteen foot high building onto the side of a steep hill. That just isn't fair.

But you know what? This was one time, things turned out like they should've- for the most part. There was one variable I hadn't counted on though.

Arms caught me, and I got back my breath enough to gasp. The arms were so cold on impact- and their strength was so great, they felt like rocks along my back and legs. The person didn't fall underneath my weight and the weight of gravity. He stood, steady and strong.

I looked up to his face, expecting to see Austin.

But- Austin, no matter how gorgeous he was in my eyes- didn't have these big arms, a six pack, and a tall figure. I was at least three feet off the ground. At least, very, very least. But, that came later. At first, all that made sense was, it's a dream.

This was all a dream.

Here was my Irish guy- his handsome dark eyes, and thick jawbone cleanly shaven, and his hair- semi-long, but maybe half as long as Austin's.

There was some feeling of guilt, but I had to. I stretched away from him, looking at his torso, and back to his eyes. They were looking at me curiously.

"I need a favor to ask, young lady." He said, putting me down. My knees buckled, and I felt like the biggest dope, looking up at him with a little drooly smile. I put my head down when his eyebrow raised, and closed my mouth. It was the eyes- those dark, swelling eyes.

A favor. That rich context, lathered in a foreign and true accent was too much, my heart filled with blood, as did my cheeks, and the words were imprinted in my mind from there on out.

Forever and always, I'd remember how he'd crouched down and asked if I was alright.

"Yeah." I said, trying to stand up. My knees buckled, and his strong arms were around me.

He's what- like, my dad's age? I repremanded myself, and I couldn't help but looking up into his eyes. A smile, and I was standing again. His eyes glowed with some sort of dazedness. I smiled back.

"So can you help me?" He asked, serious. The glow was gone. I sparked into action.

"Yeah! No, wait- what am I helping you with?" I said in vague distress. He laughed, backing away. I think I almost went forwards, to match his footsteps.

"Something easy. It's about someone. Are you good with getting info?" He asked, and I laughed.

"Yeah! And if not, I've got my ways." I chuckled, starting to turn away. My face flushed hard, and I turned my head completely the other way, so he couldn't see when I silently screamed, WTF?!

I turned back to him, beet red.

"Ways- right." His tongue easily flicked over the r in a beating song. "I need you to find another student at your school, can you do that for me?" And I nodded, biting my tongue. He had such a nice, easy flow to his words- why couldn't I be like that?

"Markus Gerald. Do you- need a ride home?" He asked, and I shook my head, biting my tongue until it bled. "Alrighty, I'll see you tomorrow then."

I nodded, waving as he left. I cursed when he was out of earshot, and started on my way. He took a left, once in the clearing. I kept going straight. Straight home.

I walked up the hill slowly enough, and went into my pockets to turn my phone back on- but just as I was about to turn around and get it, Dad's truck came into view. He stepped on the breaks, and I hurried over to him.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I called you, but you didn't answer. I couldn't find you anywhere!!!" He said, his voice rising. I went over to the passenger's side, and got in.

"I'm so sorry, Dad. I don't know where my phone went. I- fell asleep. I'm so sorry." I said quickly, but truthfully. He was still freaked, but we drove past the trailer court with the last few boxes in the back of the truck, and on our way to the new place.

We were renting, and dad and I were both fine with that. We just wanted somewhere for the time being before we decided whether we were moving into an actual house, or building our own. I voted for building our own- fantasy style. He had leaned toward this idea, hoping it'd be better for the environment if he could, but now that we couldn't find any land with a view, he was beggining to get more practical.

I traded boxes from his room to my own- I'd gotten back from another quick but easy and painless day at school. Dad was still at work. So, I was alone. It felt odd, but nice, to know that I was on my own. I was just- alone. Nana wasn't two or three doors down, and neither was the annoying yapping dog that never let me get any rest. It was quiet, serene, and I soaked up the time alone like life itsself.

I remembered my deal with Him vaguely, no, not my dad- my mystery man. His eyes stuck in my head like a bolted engraving right into the flesh. I felt the flesh on the outside of my head grow red as I thought about him. I picked up one of the last boxes, and took it into my room. It had been a single day, and I hadn't heard anything from Him. I looked at the digital clock above the stove when I was going back to my dad's room- his was closest to the door, and our apartment was on ground level, and windows on every side of the living room and kitchen. That was nice, just as long as we didn't keep the fourteen hundred dollar laptop sitting on the couch when I went to school. We had yet to get blinds, and the lock on the door was- well, it could've been better.

The clock read 6:15.

I had almost exactly twenty four hours done and over with for waiting on Him in about two hours. Eight o-clock. I sighed, this was going to be long.

I went back to my dad's room, and took up my last box. While lifting this, I saw a pamphlet below: 'Hillside Lands'. A pamphlet for land he'd found.

I crouched, box in hand, and as gracefully as I could, I picked up the pamphlet and tried not to drop the box as I took it back to my room.

I didn't bother unpacking the my cardboarded things, but looked at my pamphlet. 'Thirteen Acres! Low Cost! Sign Up Now!!!' It said. I took a step back, sign up now? Sign up for what? I looked through the pamphlet, and saw nothing overly spectacular. More info on what type of grass they grew, what type of houses you were allowed to build, a Phone Number, and a Website. Nothing was overly exceptional about that, not even the fact that the number was circled. Dad did that a lot, when it was important stuff, like medical information.

I smiled. Before, I made up my dream guy just so that I'd get over living in the court. Now, I thought my dad was going to move me into a housing developement for- medical stuff? I didn't know what was going through my mind, but my gut said to drop it, and do something else. I always listen to my gut.

I didn't really want to start unpacking stuff. I'd do that tommorrow, and all of my homework was done. No laundry to do when it's all packed away. Tomorrow's outfit was planned, and I had no projects in school to do. I sat, biting my lip. Then, I got up, walked over to the only unpacked computer, hooked it up in ten minutes, and got the internet kicking. I was glad dad had already set that up, all I had to do was plug in a wire.

The printer was easier than the computer, and in a few minutes, I found some printer paper. I got onto a new document, and started typing everything I now knew about Markus Gerald. He was fifteen, and the new kid I had seen before, on the bus. He was less sociable than when we first met, but I was happy to get him to tell his name.

He moved here two months ago, and just recently all of his birth certificates came in from- wow, New York. No wonder it took a long time to get here.

No, he didn't know Him, after I explained who He was, and no I didn't know His name. That kinda weirded him out, so I left to go talk to some girls. My social standards didn't drop with them, I was thankful for. I squeezed out the last bit of information from them, and then the period was out, and I patiently waited until I could go home.

So, he was fourteen, had green mossy eyes, tossled brown hair, and a really nice, white smile. And those lips-

I stopped. I doubted He needed to know that I had a crush on whomever he asked me to get intell on. No, I left the part about lips, smiles, and teeth out. That'd be all my memory. He had a childish face, rounded, but in no way chubby. He was- one of the most build guys I'd ever been around. he wasn't ripped like bulging with muscles or anything, but he was- in shape. He would crush the guys on the football team. I wondered if I should go out for the cheerleading squad-

I kept my daydreams at bay, hardly, as I finished up. I created a very, very vivid picture of him in my mind, and described it fluently on virtual paper. Then, I talked some about his parents, both a mom and dad lived at home, the dad was a banker, and the mom was a 'housewife', taking care of Markus and his little sister. It was a perfect family, really.

I printed out the document, adding that he didn't play any sports, and no extra-curricular activities.

He was pretty normal, nothing too spectacular, and I had absolutely no idea why He wanted anything on Markus. A dramatic story created its self in my mind; Markus was kidnapped at birth by these seemingly perfect parents, and was my Irishman's son. The mother died a tragic death after giving birth to the beautiful Markus.

Hmm, can't be that far off. I mused, tapping my foot as I waited for the printer to work. The screen blinked a green sign:

Cables Unplugged

I bent over the printer, checking those wires. Everything there seemed alright. Then, I checked the ones to the computer. Nope, those ones were fine too. I went back to the printer. The blinking green sign was gone, replaced by;

Print Recent Documents:

2 3 4 5

I clicked four and five, hoping one of them was it. What came out from my printer was NOT what I wrote.

You Must Wonder Why You're Helping Him.

Come outside at seven, and you'll see why.

My heart raced. Wasn't I just wondering why I was helping Him? And all the words in that sentence were capitalized, there's no reason to suspect anyone else would think of capitalizing Him as if it were a name... but... who would've been able to put something like that through my computer anyhow?

I looked around.

There were no broken windows, or unlocked windows, or secret passages in the house. And the door still worked with the key fine, so no one broke in that way. Dad wouldn't have put that on there. But, who else could've?

There was nothing off about the house, no muddy footprints leading to the culprit, not blood stains on anything. This was like a really, really weird dream. I didn't know what to think, as usual. I looked at the clock. It read seven o-one.

One minute past seven.

One minute past when I was supposed to go outside.

I looked out the window, and saw nothing but the street lamp. It was dark already, when just a moment ago it had been sunny, and I'd been carrying boxes into my room.

Dad was late, and what other choice did I have? Was I going to wait an hour until I though, maybe. Just maybe, I'd see my Irish-man? No. My gut said. Go outside, even though you're so scared and excited you feel sick, go outside and see what's up with people going through your things, and printing off stuff on your printer.

The printer was at work with another document as I threw on a pair of black flats, sockless, and my black jacket.

Outside wasn't cold, but it wasn't hot out either, so I took off my jacket, leaving it on the empty front porch. There was only one streetlamp, and that was a few apartments down, let's say about five. So without leaving my front porch light on, it was very, very dark outside.

There was no one outside, and I held onto my arms for comfort, not for lack of heat.

It was odd, I just stood for a second or two, feeling stupid, standing outside my door, waiting for something to happen. So, I walked down the road a little.

I bit my lip, what was I hoping for? A serial killer?

A hand grabbed my shoulder roughly, turning me around, and another clapped its self over my mouth as I opened my mouth to scream. I hummed as loudly as I could, and I heard chuckling. I stopped screaming, and started throwing punches. The hands came together, wrestling for my hands.

"Stop it! Stop it!" The owner of the hands hissed quietly over my growling. I looked at the face, and stepped back.

"Markus?" I asked in a shaky voice, getting in a ready-for-fight-stance. "What're you doing here?" I asked. Did he break into my house today? How did he get to my house before I did? What was going on?!

"Yeah, sorry about that. Someone told me that you wanted to talk to me-?" He said, asking at the same time.

"Someone -- told -- you --- to ---- meet ---me--- at my House?! And you agreed..." I asked, shaken, and confused. "Would someone please tell me what's going on?" I asked, slumping to the ground.

"Sorry I came so late, I hoped to be here before dark- but I got- held up..." He said, quietly. I looked up at him.

"I- who told you to come to my house? Why would you come to my house? Why, why, why?" I groaned, closing my eyes. Nothing made sense. I jumped when he spoke next.

"Well because I told you I'd be around today, didn't I?" His thick, Irish accent awoke me, and I stood quickly, turning around.

Markus and I were standing on part of the lawn of the thirty acres the apartments had. We were the farthest from any of the houses that we could be. He was on the road, behind me, staring at Markus. I turned my head and looked at Markus. His face was stony, unreadable. I looked back to Him. His face was readable alright. I took a step foreward.

"So- this is Markus. Markus, this is-" I turned back to Markus, wondering what to call my Irishman, but when I looked back, all I could find was a blank space where had been standing. "But he was-"

"It's fine. Go up to the house. Don't you have some info on the devil?" He asked with a grin, walking beside me. A truck pulled down the road, turning into the apartments, and He stopped. "I'll meet you at your house, I've got- buisness to attend to." He said, changing his walking straif beside me to a walk leading far behind me.

I didn't argue. Guys were too confusing for me to really care tonight. I greeted my dad from the truck, and used the excuse; I was talking to a friend.

He smiled, and slung his arm over my shoulders. "Don't get too attatched, kid. I might've found us a place." He said, and I nearly jumped up and down. He wouldn't tell me where, and as soon as we entered the house, he was getting clothes and a towel from his room, and hopping into the shower.

I went downstairs, sitting on the couch, and plugged in the television. I had nothing else to do anyways. So I turned on the television, and popped in a movie. Why not?

As soon as the sound started, and I heard the water turn off, there was a light knocking on the door. I ran to answer it, almost forgetting who it would most likely be. I opened the door, and in the light, he looked better than I could've imagined him.

"Hi." I said with a smile, opening the door wide. "Would you like to come in?" I asked, and He smiled as well.

"I'd love to." And he stepped into my life.