Naomi

He knocked on the door. Softer than usual. Probably worried that Momma was sleeping, which she wasn't. She was half-awake, propped up in her bed by a mountain of pillows I'd built beneath her. She'd spent the last week shifting between sleeping for fourteen hours at a time and having bursts of energy where she'd scrub the place from top to bottom, The first couple of times she did it, I thought she was looking for my stash of secret money that I'd already used to pay off her debts. She made us both go to church, where she'd tell me how much better she was going to be now and how much better my life was going to be than hers. I stood outside the confession booth while she repented for leaving me on my own to get high. She apologized to God and to our pastor but not to me. Never to me. When her burst of energy was gone, she'd spend her time half-asleep, half-awake, seeing things that weren't really there. Withdrawal gave her the shakes.

Another knock.

I almost didn't answer.

The memory of the last time we'd seen each other - crying on his shoulder, the state of my Momma, her pimp showing up - made me feel so ashamed. I never wanted him to see me like that, see me or Momma so weak. We hadn't talked much since then. Some days Momma had dragged me to church instead of school, Daryl had missed a few days himself. In the evenings, I'd either been looking after Momma or taking extra shifts at the diner to make up for the rent I'd had to pay to settle Momma's debts. I had started to wonder if he was avoiding me because he was as embarrassed by everything that had happened as I was.

He knocked again and I knew I had to answer or he'd worry about me for another week. I braced myself and opened the door. He stood on the bottom step, hands behind his back.

"Hey," I said, quietly.

"Hey," he whispered back, I saw him peer behind me slightly. I think to see if he could see my Momma. Or someone else. "You alright?"

"Yes," I said. "Are you? You didn't come to the diner this week."

It sounded more accusatory than I meant it too. I felt like I'd swallowed a shard of glass and it made my words come out sharper than I wanted.

"Oh yeah," he said and glanced down at my feet. "Sorry. Been busy."

Such a lame excuse. I nearly closed the door in his face. I guess I was more hurt than I thought I was by him avoiding me.

"Naomi!" Momma called and her words kinda slurred together. "Who's at the door?"

"It's just Daryl, Momma," I called back.

"You comin' in or goin' out?" she hollered. It made my mind up.

"Out," I said and stepped out of the door. Daryl stepped back a bit, hands still behind his back

"Well don't be too long," she yelled as I shut the door. I didn't respond, who knew what level of consciousness she'd be in when I decided to come home. I doubted she even knew what the time was. Without thinking about it, I started walking towards our hill. Daryl ran to catch me up.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

"Fine," I said but we both knew that was a lie, so I added. "Better."

"Okay," he said. He didn't say anything else until we were near the top of the hill. Then he said, "Will you slow down a minute?"

He kind of snapped it at me and, although I guess I deserved it from snapping at him earlier, it rubbed me up the wrong way.

"What?" I turned and glared down at where he was slightly below me on the slope. His hands were no longer behind his back and he was holding out a brown leather satchel. I stared at it, "What's this?"

"Happy Birthday," he said with a shrug.

It took me a moment to remember what date it was, everything in the last week had blurred together. Had I really forgotten my own damn Birthday? It was unlikely that Daryl was wrong. He never missed it. I stared at the bag again. "This for me?"

"Yeah."

I lifted it out of his hands, which he immediately stuffed in his pockets. It was sturdy, big enough for all of the books I'd need in a day plus a few extras if I felt like reading more. The strap was strong and the perfect size for me. There was even a handle on top so that I could carry it like a briefcase if I wanted to. "Daryl," I said. "This must've cost you. You shouldn't have done this."

Truth was, I was worried Merle's drug money had paid for this and, given the state my Momma was in, I was in no mood to accept anything made with that kind of money.

"Nah," he said and looked away, embarrassed. "I made it."

"You made it?" I repeated, lifting it closer to look at the detail in the stitching, the way it seemed to be both exactly what I needed and more attractive than anything I'd have been able to afford even if I'd been able to keep all of my diner money for myself.

"Yeah," he said. "Sick of you carrying those damn books around. Sorry it ain't much."

"Are you joking?" I said incredulously. "Daryl, it's gorgeous."

"Oh." I think he blushed.

"It's hands-down the nicest thing I own," I said, and I meant it. "I can't believe you did this."

"Turn it over," he said. He was looking at me again but kind of nervously, like he thought I might punch him or something. I did as I was told and gasped. Kinevall dangled down from where the loop on his head had been soldered to the bottom of the clasp to close it. His stupid little smile in his teddy-bear face, his silly little leather jacket. I couldn't speak. Daryl took my silence as some kind of indication I didn't like it. "You left him at mine when you stayed over. Sorry if it's corny."

"It's perfect," I told him. I looked back up at where he still stood nervously in front of me. "Perfect."

I hugged him. He squeezed me back. He'd brought cake too, which he definitely hadn't made because it was cooked all the way through and I saw the wrapper when he took it out of his bag. We sat on our log and ate the whole thing between the two of us. I was extremely queasy by the last mouthful and I'm sure he was too.

"Happy Birthday," he said again. "Sweet Sixteen."

At that moment it went from a Birthday I'd forgotten to the best one I'd ever had.

Being pregnant made Momma real sick. Or maybe it was withdrawal from whatever cocktail of drugs she'd been on while she was away. Maybe a mix of the two. Either way, I had to stay home with her a lot. I didn't always get to school. I always did my homework and I could get my projects and essays done while she was sleeping. Sometimes Daryl dropped things off for me or picked them up to take them in again so that I didn't miss deadlines. He wasn't always there on the days that I went in but he took enough shit there and back for me that I thought he was still going regularly.

I was wrong. But I wouldn't know it until it was too late.

After my Birthday, I didn't see him properly for a couple of weeks. He'd drop by the diner with Merle sometimes while I was working. I was still pulling extra shifts, I'd have to for a while. On my rare nights off I'd take my study materials up to our log in the hopes he'd come up too but he never did. Sometimes, if I was there late enough, I'd spot him ride in with Merle and a group of his friends. All on bikes. All noisier than they should be. It was usually too dark to see their faces but I could tell which one he was by the way he walks. Sometimes I thought it looked like he looked up at our hill before they went inside. But I can't be sure.

And then one Wednesday there was a knock on the door, later than usual. I worried about who it would be at this time of night. It was Daryl. And the look in his eyes made me worry more.

"Merle's gone," was all he said. I could tell by the way he said it that he thought Merle was never coming back.

I stepped aside to let him in. I saw the blood that had soaked through the back of his shirt. "Your dad come home?" I asked, watching the way it blotted through the material. It made me so upset I felt sick. He looked over his shoulder at me and just gave me a nod.

I shut the front door and walked over to close my Momma's bedroom door too. She was sleeping in there with the TV on, I hoped it was loud enough that she wouldn't hear Daryl and I talking if she woke up. It was late and having a boy in the house at this time would make her mad, even if it was just Daryl.

When I turned back to him, he was sitting at the table, elbows crushing the exercise book I'd just been using. I stood behind him, tried to assess how bad his injuries were but it was hard to see through the shirt.

"Daryl," I said, gently. He was only half in the room with me, the rest of him had floated off to the same distant place that people who feel pain regularly escape to. It was a state I was familiar with, one that let you be numb to everything around you just to deal with what was happening. "I need you to take your shirt off."

"Nah," he said immediately, probably more sharply than he meant to. He grabbed at the bottom of his own shirt to stop me from pulling it.

"I gotta clean them," I said. "Let me take a look."

I tried to gently lift up the collar of his t-shirt so I could get it over his head. He stood up so violently he sent the chair toppling to the ground. He turned on me, fist raised.

"I said no!" he yelled.

For a minute I thought he was gonna hit me, judging by the fire in his eyes, I think he did too. And then a part of him came back and he looked at his own fist like it was a strangers. Then he looked back at me.

"Daryl…" I raised a hand but it was shaking. I tried to stop it, I didn't want him to know how much he'd just scared me because I knew he'd beat himself up for it. I also didn't want any more noise. If he'd just woken up Momma, she'd be listening for more.

"Shit," he whispered, his lip quivering and his balled-up fist falling to his side. "Naomi… shit."

I could see that he was sobbing now, almost uncontrollably. I tried to reach out to him but he sprang away from me like I'd given him some kind of electric shock.

"It's okay," I murmured as he backed towards the door. I didn't want him to leave. Not like this. Not so hurt. "It's okay."

"No it ain't. I coulda hurt you."

"But you didn't." I reminded him.

"I was gonna," he said and then he couldn't even look at me. "I was gonna."

"But you didn't," I repeated. "You could. But you wouldn't."

He turned away from me. I saw the red stains in slashes across his back. They were bigger than the last time I looked, which meant they were still bleeding. It hurt to breathe, just looking at them I felt like someone had shredded my heart with the end of a belt.

"Please don't leave," I whispered. He stopped then, his hand on the door. Something in my voice kept him in the room. "Please, you gotta let me look after you for once."

He sighed. His breath shook on the way out.

"I don't deserve it," he said.

"You do," I said and felt my heart break for him. "You deserve the world, Daryl Dixon."

"I don't."

I knew whey it was turning his back on me. I knew the fear that was pushing him away. When you have a shitty parent, your worst fear is always that you will be just like 'em. Shitty parents teach us shitty things. And any time something happens where you remind yourself of them, makes you feel like everyone you love would be better off if you were dead.

But it ain't true.

Not for me. Not for Daryl. Not for any kids like us. We teach ourselves to be better.

"You ain't like him," I said. "What you almost did… what you just stopped yourself from doing.. you ain't like him. He wouldn't have stopped."

He sniffed.

I waited, hardly daring to breathe. He was a good man. The best I knew.

"I never wanna hurt you, Naomi," he said eventually. "You're all I got."

"We're all each other got," I said. "And I know you'd never hurt me. Please. Let me just make sure those wounds are clean."

He hesitated. Then he turned back to me, head hung in shame that shouldn't have been his. I watched him wince as he pulled the shirt over his head. I straightened up the chair he'd knocked over.

"Bathroom," I whispered. It was where I kept the first aid kit. There were things in there for cleaning and bandaging wounds. Depending on what Momma had taken, she weren't always steady on her feet and that had lead to a lot of cuts and bruises. I thought that meant I would be prepared for this kind of thing. But looking at Daryl's back in the harsh light of our bathroom filled me with a mix of emotions I had never felt before. I wanted to go over there in the dead of night and slit his daddy's throat. I wanted to take Daryl to the other end of the earth if that's what it took to keep him safe.

There were deep gashes on his shoulder blades and across some of his spine. Other parts were inflamed and would probably bruise by the next day.

"This'll sting," I warned him as I took an iodine soaked cloth and dabbed it on his shoulder blade. He didn't react. I knew it hurt. I tried to be gentle. He stared at his knees the whole time, not reacting or taking anything in.

When everything was clean and I was satisfied that he'd stopped bleeding, I attached some steri strips to the worst wounds to help him heal and then covered them all with fresh bandages.

"There you go," I said and stepped around him to wash his blood off my hands.

"Thanks," he said.

"You're staying here tonight."

"Nah."

"It wasn't a question," I said sternly. "You're staying."

There was no way I was sending him back to his dad. Not without a gun to put a bullet between his eyes.

I didn't have bunks like the Dixon's did. Just a twin bed in a small room right next to the bathroom. I gave Daryl an old band shirt to sleep in, it was too big for me so fit him just fine.

"Top and tail like when we was little?" he asked. I nodded and moved a pillow down to the bottom end. He had to sleep on his side because his injuries made lying on his back too painful, which actually turned out better in terms of space.

"You still got that hunk of junk?" he asked as I reached over to switch off the bedside lamp he'd given to me after he made it in Shop.

"What d'ya mean hunk of junk?" I scolded him. "That's a Daryl Dixon original I'll have you know. Designer. Ain't nobody else in the world got one like it."

"Shut up," he said, but he was laughing for the first time since he'd arrived.

"Look, when you grow up and get a whole shop full of things you've made, I'm gonna sell that lamp for millions."

"Nobody's crazy enough to wanna buy shit I've made," he said. "Except maybe you but you've been getting them for free all this time."

"Are you joking?" I sat up, saw the way the moonlight hit his face. He had his eyes closed and was smiling, probably because he thought I couldn't see it. "Handmade. Uniquely crafted. Repurposed scrap metal. That's the kind of shit fancy New York types love paying thousands for."

His eyes opened then, maybe he realized I was sitting up. "The hell do you know about fancy New York types?"

"I've seen Sex and the City," I said. "I know what's cool with New York types."

"You're the least cool person in the whole world," he told me. I pretended to be hugely offended. "Especially for watching Sex in the City. Now got to sleep."

"I only watched it 'cause Momma had it on," I protested, neglecting to add that I had secretly quite enjoyed seeing how rich New Yorkers lived and even tried to keep a sophisticated diary, like one of Carrie Bradshaw's columns. But I'd had nothing to write except 'caught a squirrel with Daryl' or 'Daryl and I built a fort out of a dead tree today' so I'd given up after about a week. Daryl had closed his eyes again. I moved so that we were sharing a pillow.

"Go to sleep, Naomi," he said without opening them.

"Not until you say that I'm cool."

He smiled again, opened his eyes. Sometimes, if he weren't looking at me, I forgot how blue they were. "You ain't cool," he said. "And it's the best thing about ya."

I smiled at him then. I couldn't even pretend to be mad.

"You ain't cool, either," I said as he closed his eyes.

"I know," he said. "Now go to sleep, dumbass."

I settled down and closed my eyes. I'd been tired before he got here but the adrenaline of everything that had happened since pulsed through me and made it hard to go to sleep; Daryl on my doorstep, him almost hitting me, knowing with absolute certainty that in that instant I would have murdered his father if he'd asked me to. Maybe even without being asked. It was a lot to get my head around. And then there was Daryl himself. We'd had sleepovers before, back when we were young. I'd lived at his for a week when Momma disappeared. But there was something different now. Maybe it was to do with seeing him so hurt. It filled me with a rush of gratitude that he was here, that he was alive. I was so aware of him. His breathing. The way he smelled. The warmth of his body.

In the dark, I reached for his hand and found that he was reaching for mine too. He gave it a squeeze and only then did I feel calm enough to close my eyes and go to sleep.

Daryl

"They can't do this!"

She was angrier than I thought she'd be. I'd never seen her face so red. I wished I'd hidden it from her for longer but it was the last day of school and I knew time was up. The longer I left it, the madder she'd be. Her Momma was over the worst of her withdrawal and morning sickness so she'd been coming to school more. There was only so long I could pretend to be ill too. I certainly couldn't keep faking it through the summer and all into the next school year.

"They can," I told her. "And they have."

"This is bullshit," she snatched the letter from my hand and read it for herself like she thought I was pranking her. I'd had it for weeks and only brought it with me when I came to meet her because I'd known she'd go through a strong phase of denial. She was too mad to read the date it had been sent. "Bullshit!"

Before I knew what was happening, she was storming back towards the gates of the school.

"Naomi, wait!" I yelled, running after her.

"No," she yelled over her shoulder. "I'm sorting this shit out."

"Naomi, please," I moaned but she had already disappeared back inside the school. She was faster than usual because she weren't carrying so many damn books around. I cursed even making her that stupid bag. I hurried in after her, keeping my head down in case anyone saw me and knew I weren't supposed to be there.

It didn't take long to work out where she'd gone, I could hear her hollering from the entrance. The door to the headmaster's office had been thrown open. She'd slammed my letter down on the table and was staring, still red in the face, down at Mr Hampsted who looked surprisingly calm. I never stayed that calm when Naomi was yelling at me. He looked up at me while I hovered in the doorway.

"Ah, Mr Dixon," he said in his familiar, boring drawl. "Care to come in and sort this out?"

"No!" Naomi said, her voice a pitch higher than normal. "It's you that's gotta sort shit out. What is the meaning of this?"

She slammed her fist down on the open letter. Mr Hampsted didn't look at it. He had no need to, he'd sent the damn thing.

"The meaning of this," he said. "Is that your friend here won't be coming back to school after the summer."

"It ain't fair," she said. "Sure, he ain't always here. But he's been coming to more classes than me and you've been very understanding of my situation. Why don't he get the same?"

Usually, when Naomi spoke to teachers she spoke proper, right grammar and all of that, but she was too angry now to bother. It made me want to laugh but now wasn't the time.

"Actually," Mr Hampsted said. "Mr Dixon has attended less school than you and given no reason for it. He hasn't been passing his classes or turning in his assignments. As he is now sixteen years old, we have no obli-"

"So that's it?" she cut across him. I'd never seen Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes Naomi Payton speak without being called on before, nevermind interrupting a teacher. "No warning, he's just out on his ass?"

"He had plenty of warning," Mr Hampsted sat up straight and tried to stare her down. An impossible task, I'd tried it myself. Guilt twisted in my stomach. Here came the bit I'd been dreading. "He was told to buck up his attendance, he was told to start turning in assignments and turning up for tests. That was the meaning of all of our previous letters, which I gather he has neglected to show you."

She turned and glared at where I was standing watching this all unfold like a coward in the doorway. "This true?"

I nodded.

"Then, he was told that if he wanted to come back here, he would have to repeat the year," Mr Hampsted continued. "Mr Dixon declined and, as he is now sixteen and obtained the permission of a legal guardian, we cannot stop him from dropping out."

Naomi took a big, deep breath.

"Your dad agreed to this?"

"He thinks I should be working," I nodded. Truth was, he was so drunk when I got him to sign the permission thing, I doubted he remembered it.

"But this was your choice?" she asked, her voice low and shaking. Her eyes pierced me, impossible to lie to because she'd see right through it. She always did.

I nodded again.

"If you can convince him out of it, Naomi," Mr Hampsted said. "He'd be welcome back."

"Good," Naomi nodded.

"Do you want to change your mind, Mr Dixon?" he asked me.

I cleared my throat. "No."

Naomi looked away from me.

"I know you two are close," Mr Hampsted was speaking all gentle and disappointed and that was always worse than when he yelled. "And I think you're both great, smart kids. So, I will forgive this little outburst. But I do have to ask you to leave now."

Naomi turned sharply on her heels. "Dumbass," she hissed at me as she brushed past me.

Mr Hampsted's gaze met mine and he gave me a sympathetic smile. "Good to see you, Daryl."

"You too, sir," I said and followed Naomi's trail of anger back into the hallway. She was already storming towards the exit. I ran to catch up with her.

I pretty much had to run all the way home just to keep pace with her, her rage had stuck a real rocket up her ass and she was superhumanly fast. She didn't speak to me. Didn't so much as look at me until we were almost home.

"You ever gonna talk to me again?" I asked her as the trailer park came into view over the hill. She stopped so suddenly I overtook her and had to double back. She glared at me and it was horrible.

"Why?" was all she said. Her voice was flat. Disappointed. It was even worse than when it was Mr Hampsted.

I shrugged. "I don't wanna go anymore."

"Bullshit," she said and started walking again. I'd got her talking, that was all I needed.

"I ain't a brainbox like you," I told her.

"That's bullshit, Daryl," she said. "You're just as smart as me."

"No, I ain't," I said honestly. I knew I weren't dumb but Naomi is a whole other level of smart. Always has been.

"You are. You just don't believe it so you're giving up. Well, I ain't."

"I'm not asking you to leave too," I said. "I just-"

"I mean I ain't giving up on you, you dumb shit," she said. I didn't point out that she'd just contradicted the point she was trying to make. "You are staying in school."

"No," I said. I was tired. "I ain't. I'd rather just get a job. Make money. Move out."

I knew she'd at least understand that.

"Is that what you've been doing?" she asked, suspicious. "All those times you were meant to be in class? You been working?"

I hoped she wouldn't ask about any of that. Guilt twisted up my insides again. "Kinda…"

"Kinda?" she repeated. "The hell does that mean?"

Uh oh.

"Merle…" I started. Her eyebrows shot up. "...he hooked me up."

"Merle," his name exploded from her mouth like a grenade. "Merle got you into some shit?"

"Kinda," I admitted.

"Fuck," she closed her eyes and I was glad. There was a fire burning in them that I didn't want to see anymore. "Daryl. Are you selling shit for him?"

"Not exactly," I said. I knew she'd be mad. I knew the shit her Momma got hooked on was similar to some of the stuff Merle was selling. "I'm mostly just backup in case something goes wrong. But that don't matter now. Merle's gone so I'm out."

"You're out?"

"Yeah."

"You promise?"

She opened her eyes again and fixed me with an accusing stare. "Well you've promised before and that was bullshit so what fucking good is this promise now?"

"Naomi, please…" I hated how I sounded. It made me feel weak. "You gotta believe me."

"If Merle's gone, if you're really out," she said. "Come back to school."

"No."

She stormed away from me again.

"Naomi!" I yelled. I ran after her, caught her arm. She spun around.

"You fucking liar," she said.

She was crying.

That was the worst bit.

It damn near knocked me over. Took the wind right out of my lungs. While I was trying to catch my breath, she managed to slip out of my grasp. Her front door slammed before I could catch up with her again.

We didn't usually fight. Not like this. I didn't know what to do about it. So, I waited where I was for a bit, staring at her closed door to see if she'd calm down enough to come out. When she didn't, I walked up to our hill and sat in our spot.

It was the first day of summer. Usually, we'd celebrate not having to go back and see a bunch of jerks for another two and a half months. We'd meet up there and talk for a while like we usually did. We'd each bring some kind of treat we'd managed to save just for this. And then, when we saw my dad leave to get more drink we'd go to mine and watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I don't know why it was that one we picked. It was one of the few movies we had lying around and I guess it had just become a sort of tradition that it was the one we'd watch on the last day of school.

And this was my last last day of school ever.

I watched the sunset on my own and stayed there as it got dark.

I saw her door open and someone stepped out. I knew it was her from the way she walked, she had her hair tied back and her ponytail swung with every step. My heart started to beat real fast as she disappeared in and out of view behind other people's houses, taking the route that I knew would lead her up here.

As she got closer, I looked down at my feet. If she didn't expect me to be up here and turned around when she saw me, I didn't want to know about it. I heard her reach the top of the hill. There was a silence that followed where she didn't come any closer but didn't walk away either.

"I get it," she said. I looked up at her. Her eyes were red around the edges like she'd been crying. She swallowed. "I get why you want to get out of here."

"Yeah?" I hadn't spoken since I'd yelled at her, my voice came out all gruff. She walked over and sat down next to me.

"'Course I do," she said. "And I want you to stop living with your dad as soon as possible. I know making money would give you that freedom. I just… I don't want you to drop out."

"I know," I said. "And I get it too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I know you want me to get good grades so we can both get some kind of cushy office job, maybe in the same place, and earn good money but that just… it ain't me."

"I never said office job," she pointed out. But then she sighed and I recognized her signs of defeat. "But I know. I know it ain't you."

She rested the bag I'd made her on her knees. I hadn't seen her without it since I'd given it to her and every time I saw her with it, it made me weirdly happy. Even now. Even after we'd had the biggest fight we'd had to date.

"You got brains and grades for both of us," I said.

She was still looking down at her bag. "You don't need the grades," she said. "You got talent and whatever you do, I know you'll be brilliant."

"Thanks."

She rested her head on my shoulder. The quiet of the forest around the top of the hill wrapped us both up tight.

"Sorry I was such a bitch about it," she mumbled into my shoulder.

"Nah," I said. "You weren't. You want what's best for me, I know that."

And you're maybe the only one I can honestly say that about, I thought. Nobody ever believed in me like she did.

"It ain't just that."

"No?"

"I don't wanna be there without you," she said. Her voice sounded so small.

"Naomi," I whispered and rested my head on top of hers. I breathed in the smell of her hair. "You're gonna be fine."

"You're all I got," she said. Something in her voice made me wonder if she was crying again but having her head on my shoulder was so nice I didn't want to move and look at her in case she stopped. "I don't know what I'll do without you."

"You'll probably be better off," I said. "Kids won't pick on you for hanging out with me and I won't be there to throw things at you when you're trying to get even more facts into that big, dumb, super smart brain."

She laughed then. Just a little.

"Won't be the same," she said.

"No," I agreed. "But we will. We'll always be the same."

"Yeah," she said. The worst bit was, I think we both believed it. She pulled a big bag of chips out of her bag. "Been saving these."

"How'd you get them?" I asked. "Ain't you be working double shifts to get your rent together?"

"Yeah I'm mostly on top of that now," she said. "Anyway it don't matter cause I stole these from-"

"Gas station?" I finished for her. "They really gotta ban you from that place."

She grinned and opened them up, sitting up to share them with me. My shoulder felt cold without her head there. "Movie tonight?" she asked.

"Maybe," I shrugged.

"Maybe?" she repeated, fixing me with a curious stare. "What else you got in mind?"

"Merle left his bike," I said. "Thought he might come and get it but he ain't been back yet so I figure it's fair game. You wanna go for a ride?"

Her eyes lit up. "Hell yes."

I wasn't sure what kind of response that would get. I thought she might get all safety conscious about it but whatever streak of rebelliousness in her that enjoyed the occasional theft of a gas station snack, was clearly on board with a bit of not strictly legal biking. She stuffed the hardly-touched bag of chips back in her bag and started to race down the hill.

"Hey!" I called after her. "I ain't done eating those!"

I ran down after her. She was faster than me. And she'd had a head start. She was already investigating Merle's bike by the time I got there. "Can I try?" she asked.

"You know how to ride one of these?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

"No. That's why you're gonna teach me, dumbass."

"Am I really?"

I pretended like I had to think about it for a moment and even though being responsible for Naomi's first time behind the wheel made me feel mildly sick, the way her eyes were all lit up meant I didn't have a choice. Not really.

"Move," I told her. "I'll show you how it's done first."

She sighed and stepped away from the bike. I climbed on and nodded for her to climb up after me. I hadn't ridden with a passenger before or thought about how that might change things. I sorta forgot how close it would make us. I wondered if she was as aware of it as I was.

"We just gonna sit here or you gonna start this thing?" she asked.

"You gotta hold on," I told her. I'd never thought about getting a helmet before but I suddenly worried that she should have one. She had a lot of brains in that head of hers that I didn't want to be responsible for spilling all over a road somewhere. Messy. She hesitated. And then her arms wrapped around my waist but loosely, hardly touching me. I wondered if she felt as weird and uncomfortable about it as I did. I'd never sat up so straight, even breathing more shallowly so I wouldn't get closer to her than she wanted me to be. Every move she made, I was so aware of. It was weird. I hadn't ever felt uncomfortable with her before.

I started the bike, felt it roar and vibrate underneath us. I could feel her peering over my shoulder to watch what I was doing. The first time the bike sprang forward she wobbled, unused to it. Automatically, she hugged me tighter to steady herself. I took it slow, let her get used to it. And then, just as she started to relax, I sped up. She shrieked and then I could feel her laughing against me. And it was easy again.

I took her to an unused car park round the back of an abandoned mall. The windows were all boarded up, the signs were fading and paint flecked off the walls. I stopped, climbed off and we switched positions. I talked her through what to do. I was hardly finished talking before she'd started the engine. Her wide, uncontrollable smile was infectious and terrifying. She was slow at first but it didn't take her long to get more confident, build up some real speed. Then it was me who was gripping her until my knuckles turned white while she sped down empty roads. With Merle and his buddies, riding always felt like a race, a competition. Naomi taught me it could feel like flying.

These were the good days. We just didn't know it yet.