Page 85 of Run Away Home: Tempered

I face her again, and her mouth falls open. She whimpers and tries to catch her breath, choking on her own saliva.

Grow up.

“So, you regret it, and it will never happen again?”

She doesn’t answer me, just looks down and sniffles loudly. She picks at a scab on her shin.

“Stop crying and answer the question,” I add.

“I don’t want to!” She squeezes her fingers together and pulls her legs in even closer. My heart falls.

“Answer it. Yes or no!” I demand and walk closer to her.

She snaps her head in my direction.

“No! I don’t regret it. I don’t! You want the truth? Unlike you, I can tell the whole fucking truth!” She lets go of her legs and roughly swipes her eyes with the back of her hand. When she stands, she points at me. I start to back away. “I’m only twenty-one years old. I need some fucking excitement, and you? You’re fucking boring!”

“I—”

I’m still backing up, but she’s coming closer and closer.

“Your personality is boring, and your sex is even...boringer. Everything about you is a total bore! You might have responsibilities, or whatever, but Ineversigned up to be Danny’s mommy, and that’s what I’m really starting to feel like. So yes, Peter, I was craving attention, and affection, and some fucking thrill, so I went to Tristian. Happy?”

My back hits the wall. Her finger is now digging into my chest, and her face is in mine. Tears race down her cheeks. Her teeth are chattering.

I press my lips together and move my jaw around in a circle, processing every word. I furrow my eyebrows and push her pointing finger off of me.

“Do you at least regret all the hurt that you caused me? You couldn’t have just broken it off with me, then ran off with him? You had to lie to me? Cheat on me? And let him tell me?”

“It’s not my fault! You—” She tries to point again, but I swat her hand away.

“Nothing is, is it? It’s all ‘Que, Sera, Sera’, and fate, and fucking star signs, huh?”

“PETER!” I hear Danny yell and the front door slam. What the fuck? “I FORGOT MY DIORAMA.”

I head toward the door.

“See what I mean? Do you see?” Her voice wobbles. “We can’t even have this fucking conversation without—”

“Fuck off.” I don’t look at her. I just walk into the living room and pretend like she doesn’t exist anymore. Danny is standing by the couch.

“I ripped the paper off and took my box back, Danny.”

“You what? Why?”

“You said it was trash and it you were going to fail. Didn’t I say I would call your teacher today? I’ll stop at the store and get craft stuff for you. You’re going to miss the bus. Get going!”

“Can I come with you to the craft store so I can pick my own supplies?”

“No. You’re not missing first period again.”

“How is an artist supposed to work when he can’t even pick his own tools?”

“That’s how all the best artists work.” I don’t even know what the fuck I’m talking about anymore.

“Like who?”

“Vincent...”

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