FicWad

Beep. Beep. Another school day.


My Pre-Calculus class dragged on. The clock slowed, and my mind wandered off the campus. I began to plot another adventure in my mind, and absorbed myself with doodling a picture of the Taj Mahal. I took a break to glance out the window at the overcast sky. Clouds overlapped each other, casting a fittingly bleary atmosphere on my Friday. A blonde girl beside me chatted excitedly about some boy band, but I’m expert at tuning these things out. A long-haired boy flipped his hair and glanced towards me. I continued drawing. Forty-five minutes left.

Thirty-five minutes.
Twenty-five minutes.
Eighteen minutes.
Four minutes. Tick.

The bell interrupted my teacher, and he yelled the homework over the sudden commotion. I shuffled out the door to my waiting truck. As I unearthed my keys from the pit of my messenger bag, a figure leaning against my truck startled me. I felt my stomach flip with surprise, then my heartbeat sped as I realized with surprise that he was the man I saw last night.
He held out his hand shyly and introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m Patrick. I’m your neighbor, I guess.”

I stared at him for a moment. He was slightly taller than me, with a trucker hat covering his messy blonde hair. He wore thick, black glasses and a zip up hoodie with faded jeans. I could tell immediately that he wasn’t from around here. I sheepishly stuck out my hand and grasped his warm hand in a shake.

“I’m Kitty.”
“Nice to meet you, Kitty.”
His face shone as he smiled. I couldn’t help but smile, as well.
“The point of me following you,” he explained, retaining his smile, “is that I need to ask a favor. My, um, friend kicked me out of my car. He was trying to impress this girl without letting her find out he didn’t have a car, anyway, to get to the point, could I have a ride?”
I could feel my face reflect my surprise.
“I mean,” he explained, “we’re going to the same place anyway, and no one else wants to drive all the way up that hill.”
“Of course,” I nodded nervously “Anytime.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he answered with a grin and opened the passenger door. I climbed up into the driver’s seat and switched the ignition on, turned on my blinker, and pulled out of the parking lot. I felt his eyes studying my face curiously.
“So…,” I tried to initiate conversation, “How was your first day? Do you like the high school,” I inquired politely.
“Well,” he answered, “It’s hardly what I’d call an adventure, but it’s…interesting.”
My curiosity with Patrick increased with his every word. Something about him was strangely familiar.
“We’re only going to be here for a month or so,” he continued, “After…stuff has happened,” he stumbled, “I’m just here to find my ground and I’ll be out of here the day after graduation. I just need to finish up some classes.”
I nodded.
“I completely agree. As soon as I can, I’ll be out of here. Actually, out of this country,” I chuckled.
“Europe?” he inquired. I kept my eyes forward on the road.
“Africa,” I answered simply. “Asia.”
Patrick’s eyes widened.
“I haven’t met many girls preferring the rainforest over the Louvre,” he remarked.
“Well, all that is nice,” I shrugged, “But ultimately, my heart resides elsewhere.”
“I understand,” he nodded along, “Completely. Pete, I think I mentioned him earlier, doesn’t seem to understand this at all.”
“I feel like there’s a barrier between myself and the rest of the school. They want to be here, I don’t. It’s as simple as that,” I explained, “I have no future here. I cannot imagine being born here in San Luis, working at Ralph’s after graduation, having children, and dying in the cemetery outside my house.”
How was I telling this to someone I just met? I don’t even talk about this with my “friends”.
“We’re here,” he pointed out. I was so absorbed with the similarities between our two minds, I didn’t even notice the turn up the driveway.
“Well, I’ll see you around. It was really nice talking to you. Really. How about I give you a ride on Monday?”
I nodded.
“Thank you. That would be nice.”
Our politeness didn’t seem to fit the situation. He reached for the door handle and exited slowly up the hill to his house. I watched him walk until he turned around and waved. I waved back with a genuine smile, parked my car, and walked inside my house. Through the window, I glanced at his house.
This is weird.
It’s strange having him right here. Right where I can see.



The doorbell rang, rousing me out of another deep sleep. No matter how stressed, awake, tired, relaxed or overworked I am before bed, nothing stops me from having a deep, fully relaxing slumber.
As my eyes focused, I realized my surroundings were different. I glanced down and noticed my book on the ground beside me. Oops, I fell asleep on the couch again. The doorbell echoed through the house. I slowly crawled off the couch and shuffled to the door, pulling it open and revealing my caller. My heart leaped when I saw whom it was.
“Lucy!” I cried, jumping into her open arms.
She met me with a warm embrace and I grinned ear to ear. I stepped back and took a long look at her. She towered over me and nearly six feet, with her waist-length golden hair framing her delicate, pale face. She looked like an angel, standing out in sharp contrast to my dirty front porch. I’ve grown up with Lucy, until she left for Tokyo at fourteen to begin her modeling career. She has been my globetrotting, blonde link to the outside, while I try to live vicariously through her adventures. It was apparent she rushed directly here from Tokyo: she wore a sophisticated black, A-line dress under a cream Peacoat, and a chunky diamond bracelet around her tiny wrist.
“You look amazing!” I cried with happiness.
“I’m sure you would, once we…clean you up,” she giggled and winked, referring to my disheveled appearance in comfy, baby blue sweats and messy, tangled hair.
“Where are your parents?” she said peeking through my door.
“Gone for the weekend,” I explained, “Some festival in Arroyo Grande. I have the house to myself.”
“Interesting…,” she said mysteriously.
She had something up her sleeve.
I looked her suspiciously and narrowed my eyes.
“What do you have planned?” I questioned her.
“You’ll see, my child, in time,” she giggled.
She stepped inside and dropped her purse on the kitchen table, gazing outside the window.
“You live on such a farm. I couldn’t even imagine being stuck here all the—who is that guy?” she suddenly exclaimed, pointing in the direction of Patrick’s house. “I didn’t even know anyone lived in that house!”
I squinted in the direction that she was pointing, and realized that it must be who Patrick was talking about, Pete. He had black hair that fell in his eyes, and wore a black zip-up hoodie with jeans. He randomly stood there, watering the plants in his attempt to look natural, and tried to catch a sneaky look through our large windows.
“Holy shit! That’s Pete fucking Wentz!”