14

As soon as the hot water hit him he felt his body relax. He stood with his head hanging under the water for a few seconds and let his hair plaster itself down to his head and face completely. He had glanced at the clock in the hall outside the bathroom. It was only eight in the morning. Classes didn't start really until around quartet to nine. He really could just go to school on time for once in a while, he could probably stay there, too. Just like everyone else. He turned slowly and let the water blast into his back. His let his thoughts fall to Sadie. He wasn't sure what the hell they were doing. He surveyed the shower and was dismayed to find only girly flowery scented bathing products and a half empty neon two-in-one shampoo-conditioner. He realized he would see her in about an hour and his heart rate increased. It took a swan dive when he realized Jesse would be there too, most likely. He washed his hair quickly, then hopped out of the shower. He dried himself off and squeezed the water out of his hair. He wrapped the towel around his hips and studied his front.

He was too skinny, he decided. Despite this though, he did have noticeable muscle definition. He chalked this up to stringing the cross bow frequently and his varied excursions in the woods. His black eye was much less black. The claw marks on his chest were still light pink tears that raised themselves from his skin a bit. They would disappear soon enough. He took a deep breath and turned to study his back. Now that he had cleaned it up a little and some time had passed, it wasn't as raw and wild as it had looked in the beginning. The welts were still dark and scabbed over lightly, with slight bruising here and there. He felt a surge of anger in his soul when he realized that he would have these marks for the rest of his life. He got dressed and stomped up the stairs to find his brother.

As he walked into the open third floor, he saw that Merle had gone back to sleep. He saw this as a golden opportunity. "WAKE UP!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, inches away from his brothers face. The amount of satisfaction pumping through his veins was high.

Merle shook awake with a start. His eyes fell on Daryl. "Whaaat," he whined, rolling back over. "What do you want…"

"Can I really take your bike to school?"

"Yeah," Merle mumbled into the sheets. "Just don't let anything happen to it. Wait!" he rolled over and pulled a handful of crumples bills out of the pocket of his jeans. "Take this, too," he commanded, flailing his arm until Daryl grabbed the cash.

Daryl smiled. "Cool." He turned to head back downstairs.

"Key is in the bike!" Merle called after him.

—-

The wind rippled through his damp hair as he picked up speed. The bike felt like a part of his body as he switched gears and roared through the rural Georgia roads. He pitied anyone who had never had the chance to do this, 'this' being taking in the land and scenery while flying by like the wind. Their dad had always had bikes, and it was only a matter of time before Merle got his hands on his own. Daryl had spilt-second flashbacks of being little and his dad perching him in front of him on the bike and driving slow up and down the street. As the more developed part of the town came to view, he gunned the motor. He cruised into the school parking lot, and was happy to see that it was full already and there weren't that many kids hanging around outside. He found a good spot to park the bike and he killed the engine. He surveyed the kids heading into the giant brown building and remembered that he didn't have a backpack. Or books. The only thing he did have going for him, really, was his upperclassman status as a junior. He stalked into the school building and made a bee line for the art studio.

He peeked into the room before he entered and saw his classmates hanging around the room, waiting for roll call. He couldn't help but feel like he was too old for this, that there was more than this, that this was just stupid. Their chatter about Guns n' Roses and this new band called Nirvana seemed like a complete waste of time. He saw Sadie sitting at her usual seat. She was hunched over, her hand frantically scribbling something out on a large sheet of paper. He didn't know why no one else was looking at her, she was the only interesting thing in the room. He carefully shuffled inside and sat down across from her. She didn't look up.

"Hey," he offered, trying with all his might to sound cool.

"Hey," she said back evenly.

"Um. I'm sorry about yelling at you. And stuff." He noticed that the rest of the kids in the class had settled down and were studying them intently. She shrugged and kept drawing. The teacher cleared his throat and began to take roll. Daryl started paying attention after 'Cross, Rick'.

"Dixon, Daryl… absent…"

"No, I'm here."

The older man finally raised his head and squinted his eyes toward the sound of Daryl's voice. "Well, hello, Mr. Dixon. Nice of you to join us today," he said dryly. "Haven't seen you in a while." He continued down the list.

Daryl took this time to try to figure out just how much school he had missed. Before his moms death, he was alright. He'd do his homework, he'd pass. After she died, that's when things got dicey. On and off, he estimated he missed maybe about two weeks. Give or take. Attendance finished and they were left to their own devices for the next forty-five minutes. He absentmindedly picked up a nearby pencil and began digging his name into the table. He watched Sadie out of the corner of his eye. She jumped off her stool and disappeared, reappearing seconds later with a pair of scissors. She began hacking away at what she was working on and he watched curiously.

"Here," she said finally. She tossed the small drawing at him and it landed on the table in front of him. "I was thinking about you last night. I started this then." She watched as he held the small drawing delicately in both hands, his eyes glued to it. "It's a dreamcatcher." Silence. "You probably think it's stupid."

He barely heard her. This was far from stupid. In the center of the drawing there was a skinny twig twisted into a perfect circle. Inside the circle were old school stone-tipped arrows with real feather fletching arranged in a perfect spoke-like pattern. Attached to the circle a the bottom and swirling around below were carefully placed flowing strings of leaves, with occasional feathers tied here and there. Further down the page she added a light shadow, so it looked like the whole thing was floating. The shading and attention to detail was immaculate. "I don't think it's stupid at all," he said honestly. "I think it's perfect."

Across the room they heard the distinct sound of their teacher coughing to get their attention. "And what are you two working on over there?" he called.

Daryl froze.

"I'm gonna draw the back of Daryl's vest, Mr. Williams. Is that ok?"

He shrugged and went back to his crossword.

"Can I?" she asked turning back to Daryl. "Draw you wearing it? The angel wings are a nice touch." She smiled, then lowered her voice. "You just stand there til class is over."

"You had me at 'here,'" he swore earnestly, still holding the drawing like it was made of glass.

She had him sit on a stool in front of her with his back to her. "Just sit like you normally would," she instructed.

He fell into his comfortable horrible posture and slouched. After a few minutes he glanced at the clock. His next class would be history, taught by a little old hag who never smiled. He sighed. "Wanna go get lunch with me today? At the diner?"

She nodded enthusiastically and then remembered that he couldn't see her. "I would love to, I'll meet you in the parking lot around 11:30?"

"Sounds like a plan." He swiveled on the stool and made himself face her. The bell rang. She darted up and slipped the in-progress drawing into a giant portfolio sleeve. "Can't I see?" he asked, stepping closer.

She shook her head. "Not until it's done. See ya later!" she quickly ducked out of the room and he saw her meet up at the end of the hallway with a squealing group of girls.

He made his way to his next class without any incident. It was the conclusion of the roll call in this class that brought out the worst. After finishing reading off the names, the older woman studied the list again. Her beady eyes scanned the room full of students. To his dismay, they landed on him.

"Ah, Mr. Dixon," she rasped. "Please see me in the hall immediately."

The classroom regressed to a kindergarteners mentality and released a collective 'ooooo'. This couldn't be good. But he got up and followed her out of the room anyway. She closed the door behind them and the two stood awkwardly in the empty hallway. Even thought he was a bit small for his age, he towered over this woman. She peered up into his face.

"Mr. Dixon, you have missed twelve of my classes."

"So?"

"You will not pass this class, at this rate. I can only assume you're doing this poorly in your other classes as well." He stared back at her and she wondered if he was even paying attention. "Daryl, do you hear me?" she asked sharply.

"Yes, ma'am." Loud and fucking clear.

"I can work with you to bring up your grades, but I've spoken to the administration and you will probably have to repeat eleventh grade."

"Fuck that," he said in a low light whisper.

She stepped back, dramatically over-offended. "Excuse me? Watch your language there-"

"No, you excuse me!" he let out. "I got a lot more important things to deal with, a lot more important than the fucking French Revolution and shit! I don't even know where the hell I'm sleeping tonight!"

She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes, absorbing his outburst. "All of that is regrettable, Daryl. But this is your life, and your education." She ran her holier-than-thou faded baby blue eyes over his dirty jeans and slightly bruised face. "You need to wake up and decide what's really important in your life-"

"Oh, I've figured it out," he snarled, causing her to recoil from him a bit. "Take me off everything, unregister me, I quit!" he spat. He saw kids faces and even a few teachers pressed against the windows of the closed classroom doors. He left his former teacher sputtering jibberish in the hall as he stormed out the front doors to the parking lot. He swung a leg over Merle's motorcycle and snapped the kickstand up. He tore out of there like a bat out of hell. He forgot all about Sadie.