Beautiful Secrets (Cranksepticeye Fanfiction)

~9.15~ A Fork in the Road

We barely spoke as we drove back to my house. I didn't know what to say, and Jack just looked grateful I wasn't saying it. He let me drive, which was good because I needed something to distract me until my pulse slowed back down. We passed my street, but I didn't care. I wasn't ready to go home. I didn't know what was going on with Jack, or his house, or his uncle, but he was going to tell me.
"You passed your street." It was the first thing he'd said since we left Ravenwood.
"I know."
"You think my uncle is crazy, like everyone else. Just say it. Old Man Ravenwood." His voice was bitter. "I need to get home."
I didn't say a word as we circled the General's Green, that round patch of faded grass that encircled just about the only thing in Anston that ever made it into the guidebooks - the General, a statue of Civil War General Jubal A. Early. The general stood his ground, just like he always had, which struck me as sort of wrong. Everything had changed; everything kept changing. I was different, seeing things and feeling things and doing things that even a week ago would have seemed impossible. It felt like the General should have changed, too.
I turned down Dove Street and pulled the hearse over along the side of the curb, right under the sign that said 'Welcome to Anston, home of the south's most unique historic plantation homes and the world's best buttermilk pie.' I wasn't sure about the pie, but the rest was true.
"What are you doing?"
I turned the car off. "We need to talk."
"I don't park with guys," It was a joke, but  I could hear it in his voice. He was petrified.
"Start talking."
"About what?"
"You're kidding, right" I was trying not to shout.
He pulled at his necklace, twisting the tab from the soda can. "I don't k now what you want me to say."
"How about explaining what just happened back there."
He stared out the window, into the darkness. "He was angry. Sometimes he loses his temper."
"Loses his temper? You mean hurls things across the room without touching them and lights candles without matches?"
"Ethan, I'm sorry." His voice was quiet.
But mine wasn't. "I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to to tell me what's going on."
"With what?"
"With your uncle and his weird house, that he somehow managed to redecorate within a couple of days. With the food that appears and disappears. With all that talk about boundaries and protecting you. Pick one."
He shook his head. "I can't talk about it. And you wouldn't understand anyway."
"How do you know if you don't give me a chance?"
"My family is different from other families. Trust me, you can't handle it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Face it, Ethan. You say you're not like the rest of them, but you are. You want me to be different, but just a little. Not really different."
"You know what? You're as crazy as your uncle."
"You came to my house without being invited, and now you're angry because you didn't like what you saw."
I didn't answer. I couldn't see out the windows, and I couldn't think clearly, either.
"And you're angry because you're afraid. You all are. Deep down, you're all the same." Jack sounded tired now, like he had already given up.
"No." I looked at him. "You're afraid."
He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, right. The things I'm afraid of, you couldn't even imagine."
"You're afraid to trust me."
He didn't say anything.
"You're afraid to get to know someone well enough to noticed whether or not they show up for school."
He dragged his finger through the fog on his window. It made a shaky line, like a zigzag.
"You're afraid to stick around to see what happens."
The zigzag turned into what looked like a bolt of lightning.
"You're not from here. You're right. And you're not just a little different."
He was still staring out the window, at nothing, because you still couldn't see out of it. But I could see him. I could see everything. "You're incredibly, absolutely, extremely, supremely, unbelievably different." I touched his arm, with just my fingertips,  and immediately I felt the warmth of electricity, "I know because beep down, I think I am too. So tell me, Please. Different how?"
"I don't want to tell you."
A tear dripped down his cheek. I caught it with my finger and it burned. "Why not?"
"Because this could be my last chance to be a normal guy, even if it is in Anston. Because you're my only friend here. Because if I tell you, you won't believe me. Or worse, you will." He opened his eyes, and looked into mine. "Either way, you're never going to want to talk to me again."
There was a rap on the window, and we both jumped. A flashlight shone through the fogged-in glass. I dropped my hand and rolled down the window, swearing under my breath.
"Kids get lost on your way home?" Fatty. he was grinning like he'd stumbled across two doughnuts on the side of the road.
"No, sir. We're on our way home right now."
"This isn't your car, Mr. Nestor."
"No, sir."
He shined his flashlight over at Jack, lingering for a long time. "Then move on, and get home. Don't want to keep Anna waiting."
"Yes, sir." I turned the key in the ignition. When I looked in the reviewer mirror, I could see his girlfriend, Amanda, in the front seat of his police cruiser, giggling.