FicWad

Patrick began to grudgingly climb the snow covered hill outside of school, heading down to the fence to make his way back to his aunt's and uncle's house. He moved slowly, hoping to put time between him and his cousin's rage. He stared at his feet as they moved, one foot in front of the other, thinking of what life would be like if his mother had never...

"Hey!" Patrick jumped out of his trance, shooting his head up to meet the eyes of a plain girl with a bright smile. "You know, I have felt awful ever since lunch."

"I think it was the meatloaf."

"No, although that has happened before. I mean you nearly had a heart attack chasing me down the hallway just to find out my name, and I left without ever asking yours."

Patrick smiled, laughing to himself. He looked back at this plain girl and spread his grin wider, extending his left hand out to her, "Hello Mik. My name is Patrick."

She smiled back, and gladly took his hand. They stood there for a moment, laughing at their late introduction, before moving again, walking closer to the fence. They reached the gate in silence, Patrick stepping through, Mik walking right into him as he suddenly stopped.

"I'm, oop, sorry. I'm this way."

"You didn't have to stop to tell me that, I'm this way too."

"Oh. Where do you live?"

"Harmin Street."

"Really? I'm on Smithson."

"Yeah, I know." She suddenly looked down, biting her lip, mentally slapping herself for the verbal outburst. She stumbled over her words, finding the first thing that came to her mind and lying to her new friend. "I mean, I used to sell girlscout cookies in the neighborhood and I remember seeing your cousin there before."

Patrick looked at her in confusion, shifting his eyes nervously from side to side. He thought back to what she had said to him yesterday.
Trust me I know.
They walked to the end of the block in an uncomfortable silence. Staring at the ground before them, the two avoided each other's stares, Mik afraid that Patrick saw through her weak lie, Patrick afraid that Mik would see his lack of courage to question her.

"Right, so." Mik figured she could at least try. "Beat the game yet?"

"Are you kidding? I've beaten that game like six times."

"Socialize much?"

Patrick giggled, and smiled as he felt his stomach loosen, realizing that the conversation could continue with ease.

"Yeah, well, I've had plenty of time to practice."

"I repeat, socialize much?"

"Well, when you barely spend more than a couple of months at every school you've ever been to, it's kind of hard to make real friends. But this, this shit, will always be there." Patrick took out his Nintendo DS and hit it with the tip of his fingers a few times, looking at the game longingly. "Or at least, until the battery runs out!"

"You are a weird little man." Patrick laughed hard from his belly. Mik scrunched up her face when she suddenly realized what he had said. "Couple months at every school?" she repeated back to him.

"Curse of the Army brat. Wilshire High makes number 17."

"Wilmette High." She corrected him, staring at him in amazement. "Seventeen?"

"Yup, 17. Pretty pathetic, huh?"

"So, you've liked lived everywhere? Because I know that there are not 17 schools in this town alone."

"Yeah, I've lived a lot of places. Germany, Japan, Wisconsin, North Carolina, Hawaii." Patrick rattled them off like he was listing places he had to memorize for a geography test. He looked up towards the sky and squinted his eyes trying to remember them all. "Africa, Salt Lake City, Alaska."

"Really, Alaska? I have always wanted to go there. I hear it stays light all day for like 6 months out of the year."

"I wouldn't know, we were only there for like 4 weeks before my dad got reassigned, and my mom had been pretty sick, so I didn't really ever leave the house." Patrick looked down at his feet, lowering his tone at the last words that came from his mouth. He remained silent for a while, letting the air settle around him and Mik as they rounded another block, closer to home.

"So, is your dad stationed somewhere in Illinois?"

"No," Patrick coughed, still looking at his sneakers, "He's on a tour."

"What, he's a rock star in his spare time?"

"No," Patrick repeated, half laughing at the ignorance of his new friend. "A tour of duty. He's in Iraq."

"Oh, shit." Mik looked as though she had just bit her tounge.

Patrick looked up at the sudden lack of words coming from her mouth and decided that he would speak instead. He had been in this position many times before, on the bitter end of sympathy, the subject of sad eyes lingering on his every word. "Don't look so depressed, it's not like he's dead or anything."

Mik's head shot up at the mentioning of his dad being dead, and a look of sheer terror danced across her face. Her mind flooded with the thoughts of her lack of knowing what to say had somehow made Patrick think about his dad dying in the war. "Oh, I know, I just. I thought." She looked exasberated, and stared down at her own shoes for a moment. "I didn't know what to say."

"It's okay," Patrick whispered in her ear, making her smile in relief. "I got a check in the mail last week, so I know he's still alive. You know what they say, no news is good news."

"You mean, you haven't heard from him?"

"No, my dad isn't the phone-calling, letter-writing type. We shook hands when he left, and we'll hug when he comes home, but inbetween all that, he'll just send part of his paycheck to me, and that's enough."

Patrick looked ahead of him, watching his breath leave his mouth in little white puffs, suddenly realizing just how cold it was outside. He shifted his hands to pull his sleeves down farther on his arms, and pulled his hat down farther over his ears, wincing from the pain of a broken wrist as he clenched his fingers around his scarf. His eyes traveled the outer circle of his glasses and focused on Mik, looking straight ahead, mimiking his actions. He stayed silent, allowing her to take in all that he had laid before her, listening to the sounds of the snow crunching beneath him, the sounds of his heart beating in his ears. His mind raced at all that he had told her, somehow not regretting that he relayed so much information to a practical stranger.

His nose turned red from the cold and soon sniffled in efforts of keeping his fluids inside his head. He coughed at the icy chill lingering in his chest and silently wished he had a car to keep him warm. Mik must have read his mind, for she finally found words after what seemed like hours of silence between them.

"God, I can't wait for Andy to get home tonight and give me a ride tomorrow." Mik heard Patrick smirk in agreement. "Can we pick you up tomorrow?"

Patrick turned to look at her, a happy grin plastered on his face, his head nodding vigorously, half in excitment of not being at the mercy of his cousin's car, and half because the rapid movement suddenly shot warmth down his shivering limbs. Mik grinned at him, and suddenly stopped forcing Patrick to walk right into her.

"I, oop, sorry. I'm this way."

Patrick smiled again, and turned to place their backs towards each other. He walked with his head down, and his spirits high. In truth, it was the first friend he had had in a long time. After his mom had, well, he grimmaced, he and his dad had moved back to base for only a few months before his dad got called to duty again. He smiled through the memories of his dad telling him that he was leaving. He tried to keep smiling through the memories of his dad driving him to Illinois, to his aunt's and uncle's house, to his cousin's house. He frowned through the memories of his father's eyes filling with shame as he watched his son shed tears when he started to pull away. He hopelessy stood stone faced remembering how he stood the exact same way when he first laid eyes upon his cousin, standing, staring at him from his bedroom window. Just as he was now.