graffiti (completed)

Twenty-Six.

"It was almost impossible to get her to agree to a co-ed sleepover," Emma said as soon as I stepped into her house, hair tied up, pajama pants and hoodie, releasing a sigh.

She'd pretended nothing happened between us, only asking if we were on for the weekend over the course of the week. Melodie and i had come to terms, which was a surprise to me, since I realized three days in that I couldn't run again and would need to talk with her often. Half of me, at least. Half of me was ready to spring at any moment, used to years of it. The other half was exploring the idea of home. Drew looked to me when I came downstairs to her basement, sweatpants and t-shirt, legs crossed the way most kids crossed their legs in elementary school. I hadn't seen Ricky since the incident, and he was nowhere to be found. Caleb was lazily playing in a Nintendo 3DS.

"Ricky?" I asked.

"In the bathroom. You have your clothes?" Caleb didn't look away from the screen.

"Of course," I opened my backpack to show a navy hooded jacket and some jeans.

"Classic graff wear?"

I smiled and nodded.

When the clock hit eleven, Emma snuck upstairs, making five cups of coffee. Caleb went into the kitchen with her to prepare the wheatpaste, and Ricky went into the storage room to get paint. Drew played the DS and I pretended not to watch. We planned to depart at twelve.

"What happened?" he was playing one of those games that was originally on a different console.

"What are you talking about?" I said, looking through the tinier pockets of my bag for any extras. A five dollar bill, a leftover can, an abandoned cap.

"You ran, right? What made you come back?" He twisted his mouth, chin slightly jutted out.

"Ricky brought me back," I pointers to the storage room with my thumb, " I asked him to do something dumb, it obviously didn't work."

"Classic Casey Brista," he laughed when I hit the back of his head.

"Are you done? Like, never again?" his eyes were on the top screen as he played, wincing when you heard rhe sound of something most likely being hit, and a game over kind of tune, "are you staying?"

"I don't know," I spoke fast, "A lot is happening at once."

Mike's face flashed in my mind, his curly hair and stormy eyes.  I wondered if I'd be ready to talk.

"Wherever Bella is, I guess," I changed my position from the floor next to him to the couch behimd him.

"Bella?"

"My mom."

He smiled at that, an excited smile. Or maybe he was smiling at the game. Both. "Did you find her?"

I put my head down into the cushion, absorbing the smell of basement that I had been deprived of.

"No, but I found someone who'd take me to her. It's good enough."

"Would you stay there?"

I took my head out of the cushion in time to see Drew die once more in the game. He cursed under his breath.

"I think so." I said, smiling at his frustration.

. . .

"Help me help me help me help me," Emma's voice was strained, struggling to hold up a print.

I ran to her side, along with Caleb, as she dipped the roller into the wheatpaste.

"I'm too short for this," she huffed before glueing the first part of it. "I'm good now." she held up the two sides herself.

With that, I grabbed vans from the duffel bag in the trunk of her car, which was a block or two down, and stuffed them into my backapack.

"Found a place you'll love," Drew said with a smile, grabbing my arm and signaling for Ricky to follow. Caleb stayed with Emma, incase she needed any more help. Ricky tagged a few mailboxes on the way, hands quick and words dripped. The marker was smooth and glidded down the surface like every mailbox was made of ice. It was too satisfying for me not to try myself.

"Back here," Drew said, beginning to climb a gate onto an alley until a familiar siren called. He jumped down without hesitation, rolling a bit to cushion his fall. We went seperate ways to avoid suspicion. We were to meet Emma at the car in an hour or two, and sometimes going on your own felt better. Like everything else,  it had it's ups and downs.

When we did meet up, Emma had a glint in her eye that told you we weren't close to done. She held up a finger. "One place before we go."

She parked near one of the many rowhouses in a neighborhood I didn't know, before smiling and signaling for us to follow. The more she smiled, the more risky it had to be.

"One at a time," she whispered, then nearly cursed as we traveled into a group of trees and there was a loud, familiar noise. The sound of a train going down the tracks. You could tell when she looked at us that she wanted to snapshot the looks on our faces and put it inside of a frame.

"Theres a dip," she hauled herself over the concrete, walking from flat ground to underneath a bridge, concrete slanted as we got there,

"Just give the word if you see anyone nearby. You know how it goes."

The tension was kinetic in the air, giving me energy and the normal fluttering in your stomach that always came with doing something you knew you weren't supposed to do. I was the most exposed to the tracks, jumping from the slant in the bridge to a part of  the wall that we bad to jump over in the first place. There was no way for me to hide.

The movements were the same, almost ritualistic, but they meant so much more from that. There I was,  me from a few months ago, on an abandoned building in a rich town, and there I was at thirteen, tagging a store's metal curtain that signified it's closing. It wasn't just who I was, but who I once was. I was guessing it was who I'd be, too.

By the time the soundwaves from a whisper of the word "Train!" Reached mu ears, there was already a massive wind on my back, bright lights splattering my shadow onto the concrete. There was nothing to do but hope the conductor didn't notice, and finish up. I did an outline over the words for the heck of it and quickly tapped the concrete for someone to pull me up.

"Hey." Ricky held his hands out, and I could feel his arms shake a bit as I jumped and he pulled me up. Emma and the others were quicky trying to pack up. She'd finished a print of a sad ghost.

"Are you still mad at me?" He said, and it was still too dark for me to really determine his expression.

"Maybe," I replied, preparing to jump over the concrete once more, "I've been thinking about it."

No response.

We came to the car we had the last time we went out like this; tired, adrenaline pumped, and laughing. The coffee was in a thermos, keeping it warm and bitter and energizing like the story that I was currently living.

"Are you gonna be here to chill with us every time?" Caleb twirled the string of his hoodie around his thumb.

I gave an enigmatic smile, shrugging, "Whatever I'm feeling, I guess."

"Yeah, alright, see you on monday,"

Drew spoke, and everyone laughed once more. We'd all bore ourselves raw at one time. We'd put ourselves back together again on our own, away from each other. We all had our own stories. The pink of the upcoming sun was visible by the time we were even  remotely close to the neighborhood. The clock read 6:00 am.

I was starting to think that far away wasn't the way it always had to be.