We Broke

t w e n t y

The ride to Peter's flat was silent.

Not the awkward silence.

But also not the comfortable silence either.

It was more a we're both thinking about stuff silence.

I had packed all my stuff into a few suitcases and into Peter's trunk.  He had joked that I had "too many clothes."

Boys.  

He pulled up to a small building, leading me up the rickety stairs and into a small apartment.  

"You can stay here.  Make phone calls, whatever, I'll be in my room."  Peter smiled at me, a wary look evident in his eyes.  

"Thanks," I said quietly, walking into a small room he showed me.  There was a small cot, furnished with a small desk and chair.

I pulled out my cellphone, feeling a little excited for the future.

In an hour, I had called my landlord, and my boss.  

My landlord didn't care, but my boss.  But my boss was bonkers.  He yelled into the phone, and I hung up, ending with the words, "My resignation form will be send to you soon."

I closed my eyes, slumping onto the cot.  

Would I be accepted back?  After all I had messed up?  

I had one chance at this, but now I had another.  

I laughed to myself.  To think this was all because I wanted to go to high-school.  I had matured a lot.  Instead of the stone guarding my tomb, I could now admit things.  I wasn't as stubborn- maybe a little- but I also wasn't as angry with myself.  

I think I'm just angry with life.

I heard a knock on the door.    I murmured an approval, knowing who it was.

"So- I heard you on the phone with your boss?"  Peter tried.

I laughed.  "Peter, he was angry."  

"For what?" Peter scoffed.  "For leaving a disgraceful company?"

I bit my lip.  "I have to send my resignation letter."

Peter nodded.  "Are you still going to go to high-school?"

I looked at him in shock.  "Peter, I'm supposed to be in my senior year!"

"Well, Sam got held back.  Char, it's ok if you get held back.  It's not really a big deal.  Who cares if you have to go back to the eighth grade?"  Peter explained.

My eyes widened.  "Eighth grade?"

"I was joking!"  Peter raised his hands in surrender.  

Peter could tell I was at most, hesitant.

"Think about the added opportunities.  Maybe even college, Charlotte."  Peter shrugged.

College.

A dream that I thought I would reach before my parents were killed.

Ever since, it's become one of those dreams that you know you'll never reach.  

Like a lost penny dropped into the gutter.

But now Peter was telling me I could find that penny again.

It was a risk.  And before, it had almost cost me my life.  There were still people looking for me.  

But everything has consequences.  

--

Peter drove me over to a high-school close to his college.  "I'll be back to pick you up.  Remember, your name is registered at Lottie, just like on your jobs and stuff."  

I nodded, waving a good bye.  Peter had given me a black backpack, stuffed with half-used notebooks and some pencils.  

I was going without Peter but at least he would be only 20 minutes away.  I had a cellphone so whenever I needed him, we had agreed that I would call him immediately, instead of dealing it with myself. 

As you can tell, I don't trust myself either.  

Which is probably why Peter has been a little less close to me as before.  I mean, that's given.  I left him for almost a year.  

He thought I wasn't coming back.

I really wanted to have a normal life.  Just a life without any...

Problems?

Is there even a life like that?  Is it possible?

I saw my reflection on a window.  

I had wore a dark brown shirt that reached the top of my slightly ripped jeans.  My hair was let loose and my face only shaded with some mascara.  

Boy, I've changed a lot. 

From coming to school in a ripped, tattered varsity jacket, too small jeans, to a girl dressed in basic luxury.  For me.

Who would have even dreamed? 

But I had also been kidnapped, tortured, been working in the worst conditions, despite the envious paycheck. 

I walked through the high-school doors, thankful for the small virtual orientation Peter had put up on his computer.

No one seemed to notice me.  I smiled, thinking about Julie.

Peter had told me how Julie and Sam had hooked it up.  I had kind of suspected something.  I smirked.  They were probably enjoying their senior year.

I, on the other hand, had been placed with the freaking sophomores.  

Lower than when I first tried out for high-school.  It would be better for me though.  At least I didn't place in the eighth grade.  If I did, I would refuse to come to school.  Imagine being with kids that are 4 years younger than myself.  

2 years is bad too. 

Do you know what I mean when I say that kids younger than you are freaking taller than you by miles?

I'm around 5'5, which is pretty average, but forgive me for saying this, but I thought sophomores would be really short.

Again, I'm dumb. 

I didn't look older than any one of them. 

Most of the kids gave me glances when the teacher introduced me.  Kids whispered, and by the end of school, I think the whole grade knew that I had been held back by two years.

To hell, the teacher who placed me.

Peter was waiting outside for me.  "How was it?" 

"Horrible."  I moaned, slamming the car door.

"Hmm, you're in a good mood!"  Peter joked, driving off.  

I glared at him, punching his shoulder.

He jerked in pain, laughing a bit.  "You punch hard." 

"I've been living on the streets for years."  I explained.

He fell silent.

It's funny how a sentence can change the whole mood of the conversation.

"It's not that bad, really."  I tried. 

"Yes it is!"  Peter argued.

I slumped into the seat, upset that Peter cared.

But it kind of felt nice, to be cared for.  I actually liked it a lot.