Unwritten Rules by Snodgrass G. L

Author:Snodgrass, G. L. [Snodgrass, G. L.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Purple Herb
Published: 2014-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Casey

Didn’t he know me? How could he think I’d leave now? Like I’d bug out on him. Why were boys always doing that? Thinking because I was a girl I couldn’t handle danger. That I’d go squealing off into the distance, running away before the big bad boogey man got me. Still, his protectiveness was sort of sweat, wrong, but sweat. A girl couldn’t stay too mad at him, I mean if he felt all protective that meant he cared, at least a little, right?

Stepping into the park I pulled him into the trees, away from prying cop eyes. See I was learning or his paranoia was catching. God he was a mess. I gently reached up to turn his head to take a full inventory. His eye wouldn’t swell all the way shut but it was going to be more black than blue. The cut on his forehead had stopped bleeding but his jacket and shirt, if not ruined, were at least close. His knuckles were scraped raw. I wondered how Charlie was feeling.

My heart began to slow down. I could feel my breath returning to semi-normal. Everything was going to be okay. Austin would heal, we’d gotten away, and we knew where Jeanie was. Wow what a day. Everything around this boy was dramatic energy. I felt so alive, as if I would vibrate right off the planet or something.

“We need to get you cleaned up, to a doctor’s.” I said as I pushed the hair out of his eyes, being careful to avoid the growing bruise.

“No doctors,” he said with a little rise in his voice.

“Okay, no doctors. But you can’t walk around like this. You’ll stand out like a virgin on the cheerleader squad.”

He paused for a moment then slowly nodded his head as if accepting the inevitable. “Your right,” he said gently taking my hand and rubbing his thumb across the back of my fingers. Electricity surged up my arm. My heart began to race again. Would it ever get back to normal?

Turning, he led me from the park, holding my hand. It was different somehow, he wasn’t pulling me somewhere. We were going there together. I sensed some hesitancy, some holding back. He didn’t want to do what we were going to do. It made my breath catch and my chest hurt.

A few blocks from the park he ducked into a gas station parking lot and pulled a key from his front jean pocket. His head shifted from side to side to see if anyone was watching then unlocked the men’s restroom door. Holding it open he gestured me in. I hesitated for a moment. I couldn’t go in there; it was the men’s room. “Where did you get the key,” I asked, trying to stall.

“I stole it, a couple of months ago,” he said as if mentioning finding a penny in the street. “It’s okay, I think they know but they don’t do anything because I keep the place clean.”

The small room was clean.

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