graffiti (completed)

Twenty-Three.

Sometimes, the smell and sounds of spray cans was relaxing. It really mattered on the place were in. An abandoned building, nature slowly taking over? Relaxing. A bridge with a fifty foot drop? A bit less relaxing.

With everything that happened, each movement of my arm, each stream of turquoise or white, each switch of caps and step back let out every single feeling. Sadly, my shoes hadn't fared well, considering the fact that we were in a drainage tunnel, surrounded by trees. Ricky, with his sturdy boots, had gone a bit deeper in, spraying his own tag, and leaving me to think.

"Derek's dad got arrested."

"For what?" He couldn't see me, but my eyebrows were raised in mock surprise.

He made the "I don't know" sound, continuing to spray after he likely shrugged, "He lives with his dad's girlfriend or something."

I finished after twenty minures or so, hiking my pants slightly up and walking towards him. The water spread out as I went, meaning no avoidance.

"Got any boots I could borrow?" I said, shaking my feet and cringing at the thought of wet socks.

No response, only a finish of his outline.

There was a tiny flow of the water, allowing it to contantly drip out of the opening that led to outside. He looked down as he put the leftover cans away.

"We should get out of this pipe."

"Maybe." I stepped out as fast as I could.

We stood outside, watching the tiny river form and flow into a nearby basin, likely. When it stopped, he sat on the edge of the pipe.

"His friends confessed, you know," he said, watching petals from the trees flutter to the ground, "they said they set you up yesterday. Headmaster called your house."

"So Melodie already knows?"

"She called Emma asking if you were hanging out, and Emma called us."

I didn't respond.

"I wasn't sure until I saw you at the diner."

"Why were you there?"

There was a pause as he picked up a stray stick, drawing nonsense lines in the wet dirt. He focused hard on the swirls and shapes, scratching them out with his foot once he finished, returning the dirt to it s original state.

"Brother used to take me whenever he saw me up late. He had a girlfriend out of town, and would visit her there. Give me food, go outside and smoke a cigarette talking to her. He'd go in his car with her after that, drive to some empty parking lot nearby. Come back laughing with their voices rough and they'd never stop smiling." he started drawing again, this time a small sailboat, childlike waves under it, "It happened a lot, and I became friends with the people there. It reminds me of him."

"It's a nice place."

"Yeah."

The silence was starting to make sense to me; he found comfort in it. There was a lot you could say with it, so much, that you couldn't say with words. It was something he'd learned to control.

He used my shoulder to prop himself up, dusting off his pants and holding out his hand. He licked his lips. "A town over, right? "

I took his hand, doing the same with a nod.

The car felt different, now; for one, ut was a bit cool, and when he turned on the car, the music felt different than before. The diner, when passed, had an almost full parking lot of night shift workers on their breaks and daytime workers grabbing quick coffees. I didnt realize anything was up until I saw the motel, the bus stop, familiar buildings now in the light of day.

"Where are we going?"

He didn't answer the question.

I could feel us getting closer, like a tightening in my chest.

"Where are we going?"

I unlocked the door.

Thedoor automatically locked again.

The big houses, the long lawns, they made me want to throw up in my mouth.

"Ricky."

"She said to bring you home."

"Ricky."

"She was in pieces, Casey."

"I'm getting out of this car right now."

"While I'm driving it?"

"I thought I could trust you!"

"A lot of people thought they could trust you."

When he came to a stoplight, I striked; a crack echoing through the car as my hand collided with his face. I tried to unlock it then, before the car could automatically close again, but remembered that, even at full speed, a car would absolutely be faster than me. At every stoplight approaching, I trief to hit him again, and he gave no response.

"Let me out of this car right now, Ricky, or I swear I'll--"

"You'll do what? What will you do?" His voice boomed,  as he slammed a fist on the steering wheel. His face was red, from my own slap and possibly frustration.

I didn't respond.

"I can't believe this!" my voice rose in volume as my hands curled, looking for something to throw.

His shoulders slumped even though he kept his eyes on the road. "I'm sorry."

There it was; light blue house, white door, bigger than it should be. There it was, the slant in the roof that I jumped off of, grass I had constantly walked all over. There was no reason to come back when I already left.

"Go to the door."

"Unless you plan to drive through the house, no."

"There's nowhere to go anymore."

I looked at him, into his eyes, which swirled with worry. We both stared until he looked down.  I stepped put of the car, walking slowly to the door like a man on death row. My hand reached towards the bell as slow as possible, hesistant. I could say I have to go around, to the back, and wait till he leaves. I could run across the lawn, like derek from his father's violent black hole. I could walk mext door, say he went to the wrong house. They would never work.

I let the doorbell ring.