graffiti (completed)

Sixteen.

I shouldn't have been out.

I was suspended, I was grounded, and I was bored. There wasn't much to do in the day, considering the empty house and hidden electronics.  So I grabbed my board and went out. An hour, probably, of cruising, the feeling of freedom almost overwhelming. Especially considering the fact that I was supposed to be at school, with everybody else.

It was a giant "screw you" to everyone. I was in the sun, petals from the trees were blowing along with the wind, and there were no accusations, rich kids, or caring parents to get in my way. Plus, I was trying to take my mind off of the other night.

Yeah, my parent, one, one parent was not a fan of me. Some people can't handle you, and they just can't say it. Derek desperately needed realize that he wasn't CNN, and didn't know as much as he thought.

I just stayed upstairs for the rest of the party -- locked the room door, stayed inside. Of course, my mind was a pool of anger then, and I spent most of the time swimming in it. Now it was empty.

Since it was the late afternoon, and I had  a device with wheels that easily roll off of slopes (such as roofs), I couldn't take my usual route of entry and escape. I'd left the gate open, sp O closed it behind me as I quietly walked to the back door. Melodie's house  had a deck, blossoms and leaves gathered on the covered swimming pool locked behind a safety gate. It seemed like an excellent place to spend the summer. But I felt like this paradise wasn't mine. I didn't know it.

When I stepped in, the sound of water from the kitchen sink was the only thing that made me freeze.

"Who are you?"

Man, tall, young features, even though he had facial hair. Definitely not Melodie. Gray eyes like mine, flashing with suspicion.

"Someone who lives here, who are you?" I slid the door shut behind me.

"Melodie's friend."

"You got me," I said, putting my free hand up, "I came to rob her of health shakes and cheeriness."

Foster kid's suspended, trapped in room, have a get together. Melodie Sanzari, party planner extraordinaire.

He raised his eyebrows  with a smile. "She told me to get something from up here, but I don't know where it is," hands in pockets, making a 180 around the kitchen, "Do you know?"

"I should charge you. What is it?"

"She said there was a bottle opener, but I looked in all of the drawers."

"Under the tray of forks and stuff."

I leaned on the counter as he looked for it, making a tiny "ah" at the sight of it and heading into the basement.

"Mel!" he called as he walked towards the basement, "Oh--and thanks, uh..."

"Casey," I said, searchig the fridge for something to drink, "Don't need to know your name. I don't care."

A pause. No sound of movement.

"Mike!"

Thumping of feet down the stairs.

My attention span had rapidly narrowed in the past few days, and I was already focused on something else before I had even gotten to my room.

I wasn't expecting Melodie's get together to last more than one day, either.

Beard and at least three other guys, two other girls, spent the rest of the day (and night) talking, laughing in the basement. I thought she would eventually tell me about the situation, but she didn't do it soon enough.

It was five in the morning when I figured it out, as I debated going out to spray down the town. Once you start graffiti, it's not something you can just stop. It's like an addiction-- even if you took a break, you still thought about it. I knew not to, because police would be on high alert, and neighborhood watches filled with excitement. After all, the entire town thought I wrote on one of their best private schools.

I could waste my time figuring out a way to cover my name, but I was leaving. In fact, due to this, I wanted to leave earlier. Derek's enigmatic smile and arrogant swagger flashed in my mind. He wanted me to leave. I wanted to prove him wrong. But I also didn't want Melodie getting too attatched, or anyone else, for that matter.

My stomach grumbled, and I looked to the clock. The house was too quiet, anyway. An open bathroom door illuminated the hallway, helping me down the stairs, but no preventing me from bumping into someone in the kitchen. I yelped as a small amount of hot liquid spilled onto me, and the person flicked on the light.

For the second time in this godforsaken neighborhood, I froze in place. Beard had shaved, his eyes, a thunderstorm gray, wide as he grabbed the nearest paper towel and gave them to me.

I took them, but didn't move from the spot as he rushed to clean it up, placing the cup of coffee on the counter and rolling out as many paper towels that could absorb the spot. He looked up with the thunderstorm eyes, the ones similar to mine when I looked in the reflection of the fridge.

"Sorry, uh, Casey," same awkward voice, trying to be adult and failing horribly. He ran a hand through his hair, dark hair, wavy as he finished and grabbed his coffee. I finally the cabinet next to the fridge, taking out the jar of peanut butter and a spoon, passing him by.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, nearly jumping at the crack in my voice. The only Mike I never knew was one who looked like me, in a few ways. Thunderstorm eyes, dark curly hair, tone always like he was a kid my age trying to buy cigarettes for the first time. He fit the description perfectly, especially when he shaved. If life was a race, my past was about to take the lead.

I left after I finished, throwing the spoon in the sink as I left him to his coffee. If he didn't notice, or if he didn't say anything, then neither would I. It was just another reason to leave. He was not someone I needed to reunite with. I didn't know how he found me, what he wanted, if he even realized, but if I was already running away, I now had a jetpack boost. I was on a rollercoaster that only went down.