Runaway

.10

After we left Hampton City, I found myself thinking that I didn’t really ever get to see every side of her. I’ve seen so much but nothing compared to what I could only call her “Annie Side”. It was beyond happy, beyond giggly, and she talked to everyone who approached us like they were old friends.

It was beyond fake and I could tell that it was affecting her while she drove home.

She had said very little within the first hour of driving but so very much. Her silence was deafening and explained everything I didn’t understand. It spoke of how much her life as Annie Young had made her into a cold, hard actress. The silence explained what the poem had meant to her and how she related it to her life.

God, I couldn’t agree more, but I didn’t dare talk about it. I didn’t dare ask her why she was acting like she was. There were so many questions floating around in my head that I just could not ask.

I wonder if the silence is hurting her as much as it is me.

“I see you bought another book,” I said after clearing my throat.

It was the only thing she bought for herself. All of the other bags were full of gifts that I wasn’t sure who they belonged to, but it was nice.

“Yeah, I got it while you were looking at guns,” she replied but said nothing more.

I wanted her to elaborate in the descriptive way that always set me off. I wanted to know what had drawn her to the book, what made her buy it. Did she know about this book for a long time or was it bought on a whim? Did this book haunt her thoughts right now?

All too quickly she was pulling the vehicle over and parking on a dirt road. Dust flew around the pickup as she got out and started walking down the road. Her bare legs pale against the sunlight, red flannel flapping in the soft breeze, boots stomped up dust, and her hair was moving slightly. I let her walk for some time before I ever thought about getting out and going to her.

As soon as my door opened, she fell to her knees. I ran after her, skidding to a stop beside her, before I settled down in front of her broken frame. She was hunched over, hands on the back of her head with her fingers burying themselves in her hair. All I could do was reach out and touch her bare thighs with my hands until I saw the light shaking of her body.

That’s when I decided that maybe she was too broken and not for me…no, but for the world that she had run to and then from. Savannah couldn’t be Annie without torturing herself. Savannah couldn’t be Annie at all despite the fact that it could make her happy when she was performing. I think that’s the only time Savannah was ever happy as Annie.

So I sat back on my ass and pulled her into my lap as she silently cried and clutched to the front of my shirt. Her body shook violently as she tried to stay quiet in her desperate time. Again, it was broke me because the realization that she had had time to perfect that silent sobbing was coming back with full force.

“Hey, baby girl…it’s okay,” I whispered into her hair and kissed her head. A sob racked her body then she wrapped herself completely around me. I couldn’t help but run my hands down her back and whisper words that I know weren’t helping. It was the only thing I knew how to do.

“Why’d you cry?” I asked as she started to calm down. The crying took twenty minutes of soothing and rubbing her back until we were at where we are now.

“I can’t be what they think I am,” she whispered into my chest.

And I knew what she meant. Her fans wanted her to be this perfect being that could be idolized to the maximum. But Savannah wasn’t that.

Savannah was a mess, but she was my mess and I was more than willing to handle it.

*

Savannah went out with Carly, Bonnie, and Vera. It was an odd combination of friends to be out together considering Bonnie and Carly didn’t get along with Vera very well, but I think they would do anything to hang out with Savannah again. The fame wasn’t the cause of this. Savannah was genuinely loved by many and could bring together anyone.

In her absence, I went out with Greg and Mark. We were just driving around in Greg’s Mustang and talking about how we all expected the summer to go. And despite what I wanted, I lied. I told them I’d pack up and move to Kansas so that the tuition wouldn’t suck. We all laughed about that before they quieted down.

Mark was the first to ask, “What about Savannah?”

I didn’t like how he said her name like it was the sweetest poison he’d ever come in contact with. Mark was never able to get close enough to know how horrible it was. I’m not saying knowing Savannah is horrible but…it is. She was the sweetest poison by drawing you in and then making it so that you cannot leave. Mark wouldn’t know that feeling.

“Savannah…” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Greg turned the music completely off so that they could hear me better. “I want nothing more than for Savannah to leave with me, travel, and never have her unhappy. But I can’t if she won’t let me.”

It was quiet for a while and suddenly I wished I hadn’t answered the question. I wished I’d responded with a simple I didn’t want to talk about her, but I knew that would have brought on more questions. They’d have assumed that something was wrong and that she was gone again.

“Oliver…I think she’s just kind of scared,” Greg replied at last then told me to grab a beer for each of them from the cooler behind him. I chuckled and grabbed out one for each of us then turned my nose up. I couldn’t stand Keystone but…beer was beer.

“I think you’re more right than you know,” I replied as I cracked my can open.

“We should toast,” Mark said and cracked his and Greg’s can.

“To what?” Greg asked with a frown.

“To being misfits and dating misfits and completing high school with a brighter future ahead,” Mark replied as simply as he could.

Mark and I were friends, never close really. But right now, I was thankful that we were as distant as we were because right now I wanted to deck him so hard that he’d wake up tomorrow seeing lights. But I didn’t. Instead, I toasted by saying “To misfits” then swallowed a massive gulp.

I still wanted to deck him.

*^*

A/N: It's short, I know. This is all I wanted in this chapter.

Again, who would be a good Oliver? Or Savannah? Leave your opinions in the comments!

xoxo