i'd rather be a riot than indifferent

4. acts of kindness

Young Freed is taken in by Bix and Ever, and tries to figure out where to go from here.

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Ten Years Ago

"Bix, did you pick up another stray?"

The door to the VW station wagon rolled open and a petite woman with long brown hair leaned back from the front seat to gaze at them, unimpressed. Bix was unperturbed, folding up his cane and sliding into the seat. Freed followed him carefully.

"Hey," they said, giving a little wave. "I'm, um, Freed." Ever gave them a once-over and Freed felt very self-conscious about the fact they hadn't been able to bathe other than in a bathroom sink for three weeks. They had also cut their hair short with craft scissors at the first bus station they'd stopped at, and they knew it was bad.

"Your hair looks terrible." Ever raised an eyebrow. "Are you... homeless or something?"

"Ever!" Bix's voice was sharp. "Don't be rude. Freed needs our help and is gonna stay with us for a bit." Freed shrank back into the seat, hoping desperately to stay out of the impending fight, but nothing happened.

"Sorry." Ever shrugged and gave Freed a half-smile, then settled back in her seat and adjusted the rear-view mirror as she pulled out of the library parking lot. Freed blinked. That wasn't usually how their parents fought.

"Is it still coming down hard?" Bix asked, tucking his cane beside him and adjusting his seatbelt. The inside of the car was barely warmer than outside, and Freed tucked their hands into their hoodie to keep themself warm.

"Yeah." Freed looked out the window, amazed by the thick, heavy flakes that were coming down. The thought that without Bix they would be sleeping outside in this weather made their throat tighten. "Does it usually snow like this here?"

A police cruiser's lights flashed ahead of them, and Freed could see several vehicles pulled off to the side of the road, pieces of glass reflecting blue and red.

"Sometimes, but it'll melt in a couple of days." Bix gave them a smile. "It's usually pretty mild here since we're so close to the ocean. When did you get here?" He paused, smile fading. "Please don't tell me you slept outside in this weather."

"No, no," Freed reassured him, then paused. "Well, not here. I just got here this morning." Two days ago, they'd been in some city called Calgary where they had spent the night outside the train station. It had been their worst night – they'd been continually harassed and perpetually terrified, and hadn't slept at all.

"Where are you from?" Ever asked from the front seat. She turned up the heat until it was blasting on their feet, and Freed squirmed uncomfortably at the sensation of their wet socks in their shoes.

They hesitated. Was it safe to tell them? What if Bix found out who Freed was and contacted their parents? Freed was already perpetually on edge, expecting the police or their father to jump out from behind every corner to drag them away to be brainwashed.

"Wisconsin," Freed said after a minute, realizing that they were being ridiculous. Their parents probably weren't even looking for them anyway – the thought made their chest ache. Bix's eyes went wide.

"Jesus, I thought you were from Abbotsford or something," he said. Freed didn't know where that was, but they assumed it was closer than Wisconsin. "Why'd you come all the way out here?"

"I was just... running, I guess," Freed said quietly. They picked at the strings of their hoodie. "I was – am – scared that my dad's going to find me. Or send the police, and I thought maybe..."