This chapter is heavy on James/Lucy/Carlos; just a heads up. We won't be seeing too much of the other characters in this one. Hope you enjoy.


Chapter 18: Out of This Town

Gone by morning light
Somewhere we won't ever get caught, ever be found
Baby let's just get out of this town

If we leave tonight and drive fast enough, all our troubles will be just like us:
Long gone, baby


When Kendall leaves her house, Jo immediately wants to go after him, to make him understand that this acceptance letter doesn't mean anything. But she knows he needs his space right now; he's probably going to stew over it the whole way home. So what if she got in? It doesn't mean she has to go there.

It's only what you've wanted since you were in middle school, says a voice in the back of her head. But sure, go ahead and give up everything you've worked for.

Jo shakes her head at herself. Things change. People change. Six months ago the discussion would have been whether or not they could keep their relationship going long-distance. But now… after everything that's happened, everything they've been through… she's not ready to just walk away from the people that have kept her afloat.

She's halfway through dialing Camille's number when she remembers that she's having dinner with Logan's family. Not wanting to interrupt, but needing to talk to someone else about it, she calls James.

"Hello?" He picks up on the second ring.

"James. Are you busy?"

"Not really. What's up?"

"Can we… do you want to go grab dinner or something?"

"Yeah, sure. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She pauses. "I just.. I need to get out of the house for a little bit. Meet me at the diner?"

"Okay. I'm on my way. See you soon."

"Thanks, James. Bye."

By the time she gets there, James is already sitting alone in a booth in the corner, sipping a milkshake. "Hey," he greets her as she slides into the seat across from him.

"Thanks for meeting me," she replies. "I don't mean to drag you into the middle of this, but…"

"Into the middle of what?"

"Kendall and I had a fight," she sighs. "Well… I guess it wasn't really a fight. But it's something that I know is going to cause problems even though I told him not to get upset—"

"Wait. Start from the beginning. What happened?"

Jo pulls out the envelope she had showed Kendall and gives it to James, who blinks down at it. "Read it."

"Holy shit," James swears loudly and a woman with a young son sitting in the booth behind him clears her throat menacingly. "Sorry. But—" he lowers his voice. "Holy shit. You got into Princeton? I didn't even know you applied!"

"I didn't expect to get in," she replies. "I wasn't going to say anything because Kendall and I were planning to take classes next year and switch to UMin later… and then I got this."

"Kendall's mad at you?"

"I think he's more upset that I never told him about it. But.. I mean, this doesn't change anything, right? This doesn't change how I feel about Kendall and planning our future."

"Doesn't it?" James asks dubiously.

"It shouldn't," Jo says, stubborn. "Kendall knows I love him. I don't want to give up on us just because of this."

"Look I get that you love him, but, Jo…" James stops, not sure if he should press on. It's their relationship, not his. "I'm not trying to change your mind… but… I don't think Kendall would want you to pass up an opportunity like this without seriously thinking about it."

"I have thought about it! I can't leave him, James."

"Jo… you can't just stay with him because you need a crutch. That's not healthy or fair for either of you."

"He's not my crutch."

"I know, I know." James raises his hand up in surrender. "All I'm saying is, you guys should really talk this out. Don't make any decisions—whether it's to stay or not—without him."

"What would you do?"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"You know what I mean. If it were you and Lucy, would you go?"

"What does she have to do with anything?" He looks away from Jo's gaze, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Please. I see the way you look at them. It kills you, doesn't it? That they're together."

"They're my best friends."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I have," James shrugs. "What do you want me to say? I want to be happy for them, more than anything else in the world. I just… I knew it was going to be hard. But not like this."

Jo reaches across the table and covers James' hand with her own. "Just because you love them doesn't mean you have to ignore your own feelings. You deserve to be happy, too."

"I know, but not at their expense! Lucy's just… I feel like I'm losing her and I don't know how to get her back."

"James… have you told her how you feel?"

"I have. It doesn't change anything. But… Ever since her grandmother died she's been even worse than she was before. She's gonna get out of control pretty soon and I don't think any of us is gonna be able to pull her back out."

"You can't save people," Jo says softly. "You just have to be there for them."

"It should make a difference when someone loves you, though. Shouldn't it?"


Jo sits cross-legged on her bed, reading her acceptance letter from Princeton again as she waits for Camille to return from her weigh-in.

Dear Ms. Taylor,

The Board of Admissions here at Princeton University is pleased to offer you placement in the graduating Class of 2016…

As she scans the page, all she can see are the contrasted looks of excitement and of hurt shock she'd received when telling the news to her father and to Kendall. It had been her parents' dream for her to attend their alma mater, and truthfully, until this year she had never once doubted that it was what she wanted.

But then Jett happened, and her world was turned upside down as she figured she would have to let that dream die, because there was no way she could keep it together enough to actually get into any school, let alone her top choice.

Besides, Kendall had happened too. And James, Camille, Logan, Lucy, and Carlos. Her world might have been turned upside down, but those guys were her new world. How could she possibly leave them? She couldn't.

Could she?

Camille walked into their room as she pondered this, wondering what her life would be like in six months if she decided to pack up and go, to leave everything behind and just start all over.

Her roommate's face carried a look of pleasant surprise as she sat down on her bed, leafing through the stack of paper in her hand.

"What's that?" Jo asked.

Camille handed them over wordlessly.

"Camille!" Jo screeched, launching herself off the bed and crossing the room in a blur. She wrapped her friend in a tight hug. "This is so great! I can't believe this!"

"I can't either," Camille finally manages.

"I'm so happy for you! Let's go find everyone and tell them!"

Camille shakes her head. "I'll tell them in group later. I need to process this. It's so… bizarre."

"It's not," Jo protests. "You've been doing really well. This is going to be great for you. I mean, I'm gonna miss you being my weekend roommate and everything, but whatever, I'll get over it."

"Thanks," Camille grins. "Now I know how James felt when they told him he didn't have to come anymore."

"Yeah. But you'll still have to come check in sometimes, right?"

"Once a week to talk to my doctor, and one of those visits every month will be a weigh-in to make sure I'm maintaining."

"I'm so excited for you. Aren't you excited?"

"I am, I guess. It's just so weird, you know? I almost can't believe they trust me enough to let me go."

Jo rolls her eyes. "It's not like they're releasing you back into the wild, Camille. You still have us and your dad to help you. Only now you won't have to be stuck here every weekend. You can do things again. You can rejoin drama club!"

Camille does brighten at this. "You're right… I can. It's too late to audition for a part, but I'm sure they need help with costuming or props or something."

Jo's watch beeped and she looked down at the time. "Oh, hell. Time for my one-on-one. Maybe she'll be able to tell me what do to about this whole Princeton thing."

"You did tell Kendall, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Jo nods. "I don't think he's taking it well."

"He's going to support you no matter what. You know that."

"I know. It's not that I'm afraid of hurting him if I leave, though. He's strong. I just don't know if I'm strong enough."

By the time group rolls around, Jo is the last one to arrive and she has same shell-shocked happy look on her face that she saw on Camille earlier. She takes her seat in the circle next to Kendall and reaches for his hand, squeezing it gently as the group facilitator has them go through this week's activity.

When they're all left alone, Camille makes her announcement.

"So… I'm being released this weekend," she tells them. "I got my goal weight last week. My doctors think it's time to let me go."

"Nice!" Kendall lifts his hand and Camille high-fives it sheepishly.

Jo clears her throat. "Not to steal your thunder or anything," she says as everyone shifts their attention to her. "But um, my therapist is recommending me for release too."

"Our group's practically gonna be empty!" Carlos exclaims. "I mean, I'm really happy for you guys," he adds when Lucy kicks him.

"Is it weird that I kind of feel like we're saying good bye?" Camille asks.

"Nah," Jo shakes her head. "But roommate or not, you're still my best friend."

"Same here. Though I do feel bad we're leaving Lucy to deal with these guys alone," Camille says, grinning at Lucy.

"Please," scoffs the girl. "They're nothing I can't handle."


James tries to quickly finish up his dinner while his mom takes a conference call. She'd been badgering him recently about making a final decision on where he was going to attend school next year, and the truth was, he'd actually already decided to stay close to home and go to the University of Minnesota, which his mother would love. But the thing his mother wouldn't love was the fact that he wanted to major in acting, not in business.

She knew performing was a hobby of his, but she never quite grasped how seriously he took it. This wasn't a passing phase for James; this was something he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Only he was having a hard time growing the balls to tell Brooke that he didn't want to run her makeup company when she retired.

He's still shoveling food into his mouth when she returns to the table with a sour look on her face.

"Everything okay?" He asks, swallowing thickly.

"Some intern flubbed an order on business cards and ordered about fifty-thousand more than we wanted, which is going to cost a fortune," Brooke sighs, taking a drink from her glass of wine. "I'll be so glad when you start interning. At least then I'll have someone competent in the office."

"Mmm…" James puts more food in his mouth to avoid giving an answer, instead doing his best not to roll his eyes as his mother rants about the idiots who work for her and how she can't wait for James to start working with her so she can show him all the ins and outs of the business.

As it is, James already knows more about makeup and hair care than any self-respecting teenage boy should.

"Anyway," Brooke continues, "I was thinking that after graduation, you could start coming into the office maybe three times a week or so, just to get a feel of what we do and how things run, meet some of the other interns, that sort of thing. Start off slow, nothing too major, of course."

"Hmmm…" James mumbles. "Yeah… maybe."

This is the part he'd been dreading. Because there was a community theater group Camille had told him about that was putting on a musical. And sure, he'd never really acted because he'd spent most of his time working on choir and learning to play piano, but he figured if nothing else he could sing in the chorus and see what it was like being on stage. Plus Camille would probably be there too, so it'd be cool to hang out with her in case he didn't know anyone else.

"You're awfully quiet today, James. Is there something on your mind?"

"Um. I've been thinking a lot," James says hesitantly. "About next year and what kind of classes I want to take and what to major in. I, um, I'm pretty sure I want to go ahead and go to UMin—"

"Excellent," Brooke says briskly. "You'll be nearby the office in case I need you for anything. As for class, obviously you'll need to enter the business school and take some basic accounting and marketing classes. But your main focus should be entrepreneurial studies, of course, because you need to learn how to run and manage a business that you also own… James! Are you listening to me?"

James blinks, realizing he must have a dazed expression, because hearing his mom go on and on about his future is starting to make his brain feel numb.

"Yeah, Mom."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What do you think, James David? You need to choose your electives carefully, maybe group them into another area of focus and get a minor as well. It'll be hard to graduate in four years, but that's really not a big deal, so don't be concerned about that."

"Electives?"

"Yes, James. Economics, some math classes…"

"But I hate math."

"Well what do you suggest?"

James gulps nervously. "I don't even know if I want to major in business," he mumbles, not looking her in the eye.

"Excuse me?"

"There might be other things I want to do."

"Like what? If you say performing…"

James remains silent.

"We've talked about this, James David! There's no future in singing and acting! And God knows there's no money in it, either."

"Money's not the only thing that matters," James argues.

"Of course you'd say that," Brooke rolls her eyes. "You've never known what it's like to be without it. But I have, and I don't want you to have to go through what I did."

Now he's starting to get angry. "Mom, come on! This is my life, not yours. You can't tell me what to do forever! I'm gonna be eighteen soon."

"Let me put it like this, James. When you are paying for your own education and lifestyle, you can make our own decisions. And I do mean all of it; college tuition, your car, your living arrangements. Until then, this is a closed discussion. Understood?"

James closes his eyes. Breathe. One, two, three…

"Understood," he mutters. "Can I be excused now?"

Brooke nods and dismisses him and James stands quickly, leaving his plate on the table and heads out the door without another glance back.


The beer on Jack's breath makes her feel nauseated. He grunts every time he pushes into her, his unshaven jaw scratching her face and neck as she lies still beneath him, waiting for it to be over. Luckily the drugs she's on (because really, when isn't she on drugs these days?) make her numb to her surroundings, so she's able to let her mind wander away from the squeaking mattress and the way he's almost choking her, probably leaving bruises on her neck and thighs because it's not like he cares about being gentle with her. Images float through her head at random, hazy and blurry visions of other guys at other random times—parties and backseats of cars and strange bedrooms with strange men, some of them faceless and nameless as she used them to forget.

Jack finishes and pulls out of her, tossing the condom at her trashcan and missing, leaving it on the floor. "Always so fuckin' good," he sighs, buttoning his pants and leering at her, still naked on the bed and not making any attempt to cover herself. "So fuckin' good, you little slut."

She hears the words but they don't register. They mean nothing and he leaves her alone, the front door slamming and the engine of his truck starting up so he can make his way to the bar.

Lucy sits up, the familiar feeling of being utterly dirty starting to overwhelm her as it does every time he leaves her. She stands on shaky legs and pulls the sheets from her bed, leaving them on the floor as she goes into the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water pours over her, scalding her as she scrubs her skin raw, trying to rid herself of any traces of him left on her.

It doesn't work. It never does. He isn't even there but he's still everywhere, even in the very steam that swirls around her as she steps out of the tub.

There's a knock on the front door that she only vaguely hears, and she ignores it thinking whoever it is will go away soon enough. However, the knocking persists and then she thinks she must be hallucinating or hearing things because it's James' voice coming from the other side of the door, calling out to her to let him inside. She pauses before going out into the living room to answer it, wearing just her t-shirt and underwear.

"What are you doing here?" is the first thing she says, her eyes wide.

"I just.. needed to get away from my mom for a little bit," James replies. "We kind of got into it about school next year and I decided to leave before I ended up breaking something."

Lucy leads James into her room closes the door. "Mommy dearest knows what's best," she says sarcastically. "You know you have to stand up to her."

"I know," he sighs. "But she basically told me she'd cut me off if I don't do what she says. Cutthroat bitch," he laughs darkly. He looks around the room, noticing the way her sheets lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"You don't get to be the owner and CEO of the most successful company in the Midwest without being a cutthroat bitch," Lucy smirks. "Gotta respect a woman like that."

"How am I supposed to respect her when she thinks everything I want and everything I do is wrong?"

"Then you'd best steer clear of me," she teases him. "Mommy dearest definitely wouldn't approve."

"Mommy dearest can plan my future all she wants. But she doesn't get to pick my friends."

Lucy sits down on the ground in front of her bed, still not wanting to go near it, and James joins her, sitting cross-legged beside her. He glances around her room, taking in the posters of rock bands that cover her walls and the pictures of their group taped to her closet doors. He notices the liquor bottles stashed in the corner and the rolled up joint in her nightstand that she reaches for now and puts to her lips. She lights it up and inhales deeply, letting the smoke fill her lungs until she can feel the burn in her chest before blowing it out slowly. She offers it to him and James takes it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger and bringing it to his own lips.

"How are you doing, Luce?" He asks quietly.

"Fantastic," she answers. "Really fucking awesome."

"I'm serious."

"Leave it alone, James. Don't worry about it."

"I am worried about it, though. I know things are bad, alright? You don't have to shut me out."

"Stop," she whispers. "I can't—I don't want to talk about it."

James tilts her face up and forces her to look at him. "I'm not going anywhere," he tells her. "I can help you, but you have to let me. So please just let me."

Lucy holds his gaze for three seconds and the next thing he knows his eyes are falling closed and her lips are crashed against his. His arms wrap around her waist, her shirt riding up and revealing the scars in various states of healing up and down her thighs. Her hands grip his shoulders and her legs wrap around his waist as he guides her onto her back, settling carefully on top of her as their tongues continue to battle, their chests and stomachs and hips pressed flush against each other.

She yanks at his shirt, tugging it off before running her hands down to the button and zipper of his jeans and pushing them past his hips. James slips his hand under the hemline of her t-shirt, his fingers hooking under the waistline of her panties and pulling them down her legs before he settles on top of her again, pushing himself gently inside while kissing her neck as she breathes heavily beneath him.

Lucy's body is on fire as his fingertips brush over her bare skin, and when she comes she whimpers his name. He kisses her again, slowly and deeply, his body going still as his own climax peaks.

It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up to his body, but when it does, he sits up quickly, pulling up his pants and looking down at Lucy, who's reaching for her underwear and re-adjusting her t-shirt.

"Fuck!" James yelps. "Lucy—we just—oh, shit—"

"James, it's fine," Lucy says slowly, blinking at him lazily.

"It is not fine! You have a boyfriend! Who happens to be my best friend! Oh my God, what are we going to tell him?"

"We don't have to tell him anything," Lucy replies, looking wholly unconcerned as James' panic mounts.

"You can't be serious."

"Don't make this bigger than what it was, James," she answers softly. "We just—it was nice. I needed a distraction. So did you. Carlos doesn't need to know. No harm, no foul."

"This changes everything, Lucy."

"No, it doesn't."

"Don't stand there and tell me you don't feel anything for me! I know you do."

"Get out of here," Lucy sighs. "Go home, James."

"No. You are not fucking sending me home after that. Would you just tell me what is going on with you? Can you open up about something for once in your life?"

"I don't know what you want to hear! I've slept with a lot of guys, James. It doesn't have to mean something every time. In fact, most times it usually doesn't. Get it through your head: I'm no good for you. I told you before, didn't I? I'll break your heart, James. And then I'll lose you forever."

Lucy crosses her arms over her chest, her face not betraying the emotions swirling within her. James' panic almost calms her down as he paces the room and sits on the corner of her mattress, still stripped of its sheets.

"That's bullshit, Lucy. I don't buy it. If it were anyone but you and me, I would. But I know you." James doesn't budge as he stares Lucy down, unwilling to go without a fight. "Wait," he pauses. "What's that on your neck? Did I do that?"

Her hand flies up to her throat and she turns to her head to look at her reflection in the mirror. There are faint bruises underneath her fingertips. They still feel tender when she presses on them lightly. "It's nothing." Even she doesn't believe the words as they come out of her mouth.

"I didn't, did I? Where did they come from?"

"Get out, James." Lucy shoves him away as he tries to get a closer look at her neck. "Go!"

"I'm not fucking leaving, you get that through your head! What happened to your neck? Was it Carlos? Because I swear to God if he—"

"It was my stepfather!" Lucy interrupts him before he can finish the thought.

"He choked you?"

"He's not a very happy drunk," is her explanation. "He gets mad. I'm in the way. No big deal."

"Lucy, is he the reason you're in therapy? He hurts you, doesn't he? And you're too afraid to say anything?"

"It's not a big deal," she repeats. "Don't put yourself in the middle of this. And don't tell anyone."

"I'm tired of keeping everyone's secrets! First Jo and now you. This is stupid. They don't help anything. And we have to deal with what happened between us! Carlos deserves to know."

"James, what are you not understanding? I—can't—be—with—you. Even if we tell him and he breaks up with me, what would that accomplish? I'm not just going to back forth from him to you. I love him, okay? Wrap it around your mind that no matter what happens with you and me, no matter what I might feel for you, I'm with him."

The words sting him, eating away at the shell he'd tried to keep up for so long. The one that told him he could suck it up because they were his friends, and because they deserved to be happy. He could be okay with them being together because if he was meant to be with Lucy, then he would be with Lucy. And he obviously wasn't with her, so that must mean he was supposed to find his happiness elsewhere.

But he'd allowed himself to have a sliver a hope, to think that maybe she would realize Carlos wasn't the one she was supposed to be with. He'd allowed himself to believe that things would themselves out and that Carlos would realize it too, and he'd be happy for James and Lucy when all this came about.

Clearly, the universe isn't that fair, James thinks. The world does not exist to grant your wishes.

She said it herself, all but admitted that she had feelings for him. He was always going to be second rate next to Carlos. He gave her something James didn't, and nothing James could do would change that.

"I'm gonna go." His voice sounds far away, even to him. He doesn't recognize it, how it sounds hoarse and hollow and completely unlike him.

Lucy doesn't stop him as he walks out the door.


Shit happens. That's his motto. Shit happens and sometimes you can't do anything about it. It happens to people who don't deserve it and to people who do deserve it, and all you can do is deal with it as it comes. Carlos doesn't believe in fate or that 'everything happens for a reason.' Sometimes people get screwed over and there's no use getting mad about it because in the end, everyone looks out for himself first and foremost. Every single time.

The thing is, though, the more time he spends at the Palm Woods and with his friends from group, the more he starts to question whether his motto is right. Shit does happen—it happened to all of them—but for the first time in his life, he feels like he has friends who would actually put aside their own happiness for his, friends who wouldn't bail on him as soon as things went to hell, like Wayne and Andy did when he got in trouble for spray painting.

And what's more, for the first time in his life, Carlos feels like he would do the same for them.

So because of that, it's hard not to be annoyed when Wayne and Andy call him over as he passes the by the park. They were supposed to be his best friends, they'd been in the same gang since middle school. Yet neither of them had bothered to show up to the museum to check out his art competition. Not that it mattered, since he lost, and not that he was even all that surprised that they didn't go. But still. You'd think since it was something kind of important to him, they might have at least given him an excuse.

They're wasted, obviously. As usual. And so are the dozen other kids hanging out in the clearing.

"What's up, man?" Wayne asks, wrapping one arm around Carlos and pulling him into the gathering. "Where've you been?"

"Around," Carlos answers shortly. "Had some stuff to do."

"And how's the Palm Woods crew? Still keeping you busy making you talk about your feelings?"

Carlos shrugs. "Two of the girls got released this weekend. James is already out. It's not the same as it was before."

"Just like I told you," Wayne smirks, offering Carlos a hit off his joint. "Pretty soon it's just gonna be you and then what are you gonna do? They're not gonna stay around forever."

"They're my friends," Carlos says defensively, though he can't help but wonder if what Wayne says is true.

"We're your friends," Andy chimes in, wandering over and tossing a bottle of pills at Carlos. "And we need help selling those by the end of the week."

"Yeah, my friends who didn't bother telling me they weren't coming to my art show."

"Please," Wayne snorts. "Look, I'm sorry, but seriously? All that artsy bullshit? That's not you, man. They're trying to turn you into something you're not. They're trying to make you into who they want you to be so that you'll be an acceptable person to hang with. I can't believe you don't see that. So they have you doing art and going to therapy and you've even talked yourself into thinking you want a girlfriend. But us? We like you just the way you are. You don't have to change for us to be your friend. This is you."

Wayne pulls out a small bag of fine white powder and scoops a small bit onto his finger before snorting it and passing it to Andy, who does the same. When Andy holds it out for Carlos, he hesitates for a second before taking it and joining them. Maybe they're right. This is who he was. Why should he try to deny that?

Carlos decides to shake off the doubt and steps further into the clearing, where a girl he used to hang out with pulls him close and kisses him like her life depends on it. It startles him at first and he thinks he should probably step away, but her grip is firm and her body is warm against his and her mouth moves expertly against his… It feels good to not care about anything, he thinks, because when you don't care about things, they can't be taken from you. That was how he lived his life before and damn it all if it wasn't fun. Of course, that was how he ended up at the Palm Woods in the first place, but he's not thinking about that right now. He's thinking, fuck it, this is fun.

Just go with it.

The girl pulls him toward a nearby car and they fall into the backseat, yanking at each other's clothes until they're both shirtless, Carlos squeezing her bare breasts as she straddles his lap, their hips grinding against each other roughly as they try to create friction between them. The girl pants heavily when his hands move from her breasts to her waist to the hemline of her skirt, offering no resistance when he traces his fingertips up the smooth skin of her thighs to her center. Carlos pulls at the thin fabric he finds there, supporting her as she shifts her weight forward so that he can tug them off and push his own pants down past his knees.

And it is fun. She feels warm and tight and wet around him and she makes all the right noises when he pushes himself inside her. She whimpers his name and moves in time with him and she grips onto his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she comes. He finishes too and they sit there together for a few moments, catching their breath and smiling and even kissing again. It feels fine. It feels good.

But…it doesn't exactly feel right.

That's when he decides he better go home, and now before he can do anything else to fuck up his life. You are an idiot, he thinks to himself. In a single night you have probably fucked up the most important thing you have going for you: Lucy.

When they stumble out of the car, straightening their clothes, the girl shoves a note with her number scrawled on it into this hoodie pocket and he doesn't bother to refute her because he knows he'll never look at it anyway.

With his head starting to clear, the full weight of the night presses on him as if someone were squeezing his chest tight, and all he can hear are Wayne's words ringing in his ears. They're going to leave you, every single one of them… They're trying to turn you into something you're not.

"No," he says out loud to no one in particular. "It's not true." They wouldn't do that to him.

What if he's right though? What's to stop all of them from leaving? Logan's going to become a famous brain surgeon or something, Kendall will inevitably get into the NHL, James is going to inherit the biggest company in the Midwest. Camille and Jo will go to college and make something of themselves, and even Lucy will realize what a mistake she's made by choosing him over James. They'll all leave him and he'll still be stuck in the same place he's always been.

He's careful to be quiet when he sneaks in the back door of his house, but it makes no difference. When he gets to the top of the stairs, he can see that the light is on his room. And he knows it was off when he left.

"Carlos Roberto Garcia, where have you been?" His mother's voice is so high, he's sure dogs all around the neighborhood must be waking up.

Both of his parents are waiting for him. It's an ambush—that's how he sees it—and both of them are screaming about how they've given him so many chances and he continues to waste them, and how they don't know what they're supposed to do with him, and doesn't he care what a burden it is on the family? Or how it makes his father, as a police officer, look?

Then of course, his mother lapses into Spanish as she does whenever she's upset, and she's crying about how she doesn't know where she went wrong with him, because Javier turned out to be such a good boy, and Carlos can only stand there with red-rimmed eyes, head still swimming from the drugs and the realization that sooner or later he would be utterly, utterly alone.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Mr. Garcia asks, putting his hands on Carlos' shoulders and shaking him a bit to get him to snap out of the dazed silence he's currently buried in.

The pills that Andy gave him rattle in his pocket and Mr. Garcia's eyes narrow. He reaches into Carlos' pocket and pulls out the bottle.

"So it's back to this, is it? Is this what you're going to do with the rest of your life?"

Carlos shrugs. "Maybe," he mumbles.

"No. Not under my roof," his father says, no longer yelling. Now he's the scary kind of calm, the kind that Carlos used to be terrified of because it meant not that he was angry, or that Carlos was going to be punished. It meant he was disappointed. "Not anymore."

"What are you going to do? Kick me out?" He means to sound defiant, to show that he doesn't care about what they think of him, but he can hear the smallness of his voice and how it shakes as he speaks and he knows he isn't fooling anyone.

"No, mijo, but we aren't going to let you do this to yourself anymore. I've spoken with your Tio Antonio. He's agreed to let you go stay with him for awhile. Get you away from all these bad influences."

Carlos racks his brain, trying to place 'Tio Antonio.' He hasn't seen his uncle in years. Then it hits him. "In Montana? You're sending me away? You can't do that!"

"We're not doing it to send you away, son," Mrs. Garcia says, her eyes still filled with tears. "You have to understand that we're only doing what's best for you."

"I won't go. You can't make me," Carlos says stubbornly. "You're not gonna ship me off to his ranch in the middle of nowhere. I can't just leave school now when I'm gonna graduate in a couple of months!"

"It's already decided, Carlos," Mr. Garcia says tiredly. "We'll discuss it more tomorrow. I'll be dropping you off and picking you up from school."

Like hell you will, Carlos thinks as his parents leave his room to go to bed.

When the house is quiet again, Carlos snatches up a backpack and starts shoving things into it at random. A couple of shirts, an extra pair of jeans, some underwear, and his sketch book. Then he opens a drawer and pulls out a small box. He opens it to check, and yes, all his money's still in there, so he closes it again and adds that to his backpack. Carlos looks around the room, wondering if there's anything else he needs, before realizing that seventeen years of life in this house have amounted to pretty much nothing. There's nothing, except maybe for a few photos, that holds any other sentimental value.

He steps out into the hallway and pauses, glancing towards Javier's door. He shouldn't wake his brother… but this might be his last chance. Carlos quietly sets the bag down, turns the knob, and steps into Javier's room, surprised to find that the younger boy is sitting up in bed, his bedside lamp illuminating his corner of the room.

"You're awake."

Javier nods. "Couldn't sleep through all the yelling."

"Sorry." Carlos swallows. "Not just for that… but for everything."

"What do you mean?"

Carlos sits on the edge of Javier's bed. "I know you hate having to be golden child while mom and dad chase after me and try to fix my messes, Javi. I'm sorry that I put you in that position. I know you must hate me for it."

"I don't hate you, Carlos. You're my brother. But I don't understand why you're like this."

"I don't either," Carlos shrugs. He doesn't have an answer for his little brother or for himself, so he pulls Javier into a hug and tells him to go to sleep. "Goodbye, Javi."

"You mean 'goodnight'?"

"Yeah," Carlos smiles from the doorway. "Sure."

He closes Javier's door and picks up his bag again, heading down the stairs quickly and quietly and sneaking out the back door again. When he steps out onto the street he pauses, realizing that he has no idea where to go. Should he say goodbye to anyone? No, they'd just try to stop him. But he can't get Lucy out of his head, and she deserves to know, so his first stop will be to say goodbye to her and tell her not to worry. It'll be safe because Lucy won't try to talk him out of it—she'll accept his decision and she'll let the others know he's safe.

Carlos sneaks around the side of her house to where he knows her window is and peers inside, thankful that she'd left her curtains open, perhaps to let some moonlight in. He looks toward her bed, frowning in confusion when he sees that the mattress is bare and her blankets and sheets lay in a pile at the foot of the bed. Finally he notices a lump near the closet and he squints at it, barely making out the outline of a sleeping bag.

He's torn between not wanting to wake her and needing to say goodbye and he turns to leave twice, unable to make himself do it. Finally he knocks on the glass, the sound oddly magnified in the silence of the late night. Lucy doesn't stir so he knocks again, louder this time, and prays that she'll sit up.

She does. She looks toward the window and Carlos waves at her.

Lucy stands and walks slowly over, unlocking and sliding the panel up so that Carlos can climb inside.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why are you sleeping on the ground?"

Both of them speak at the same time and neither answers the other's question.

"Did you go out tonight?" Lucy asks.

Carlos nods. "My parents were waiting for me when I got home."

"You're in trouble."

"They want to send me to Montana to work on my uncle's ranch."

"When?"

"I dunno. I'm not going."

"Not going?"

"I've got enough money for a bus ticket out of town. I can take off and start over somewhere else. I don't know where yet. But I know I'm not going to let them ship me off to the middle of nowhere to live with my uncle and six cousins. I just wanted to say goodbye and tell you not to worry."

"Carlos—"

Before she can think of anything to say, he pulls her into a slow, sweet kiss. "I'll miss you. I will think about you every day."

He turns to go but Lucy reaches out and grabs him. "Wait."

"If you're going to try to talk me out of it—"

"Let me go with you."

"Go with… what?"

"I don't want to be here anymore, either," she says quietly.

"Are you sure about this?"

Lucy nods and goes to her closet, pulling on a pair of jeans and her heavy black boots. She stuffs some clothes into her own backpack and her wallet. Can he really let her come with him? It'll be great to have her there, but he already feels guilty about the girl from earlier, and he's not sure he'll be able to handle having Lucy with him without telling her.

"Lucy, wait—"

"You can't go alone, Carlos. And I need to get out of here too. This is perfect. This will work." She continues shoving things into her bag as she speaks.

"I cheated on you," he blurts out.

Lucy stops and looks up, then continues on as if she hasn't heard him.

"Lucy—"

"I heard you," she says dismissively.

"So, what? You don't care?"

"Yes, I care, Carlos. But that doesn't change anything."

"Well do you want to talk about it?"

"Right now? No. We're wasting time. The sooner we get out, the better."

Lucy finishes packing and follows Carlos out the window before closing it tightly, taking a last look at the house she hates. They walk in silence toward the bus station and she shivers in the cool night air. Carlos takes off his hoodie and hands over to her. She sticks her hands in the pocket and finds the small piece of paper shoved in there earlier by the girl from the park.

"'XOXO, Nina,'" she reads out loud.

Carlos snatches the paper from her and tears it in half before letting both pieces fall to the ground. "It's not going to happen again."

"You don't have to make any promises you can't keep, Carlos."

"You really don't want to talk about this?"

"About you fucking someone else? No thanks. Not necessary."

"Lucy! I was stupid. I wasn't thinking. But I don't want to be like that anymore. And you have every right to be mad at me, just, please, I swear to God I will make it up to you." They both stop walking and Carlos reaches out to take her hand.

"Stop. It's done."

"No, I mean it, I—"

"Carlos. Don't worry about it." Lucy meets his gaze and holds it for a long moment. "We're even."

"Wait. What is that supposed to mean?"

Lucy cocks her head to side slightly. "Think about it."


Soooo here are 7800 words for you…. It'd be cool if you left me a few words back. Just sayin'