Curfew Under Management

12

CHAPTER 12

5:49 AM

Turns out happy meals aren't available 'till ten in the morning, so we sticked with pancakes. They weren't really the reason why my mood improved over the last hour. I'd say it was more of the stray puppy I fed half of it to at the parking lot.

I make a turn, entering our street. The sun hasn't completely risen, but I hope I reach back to my bed before it does. My eyes dart from house to house, and eventually land on some hobo by our sidewalk. Technically, his profile looks like a fully-sheltered person and his jacket doesn't have hobo gloves to match it, yet it's a quarter 'till six. Who would be sitting on someone's gutter at six in the morning? He sits so still with his elbows propped up on his knees and his head resting on his arms. Probably asleep, he is situated next to Dexter's bike.

Wait, am I seeing it right? Am I seeing Dexter's bike? Parked infront of our house?

Dexter Conroy is sleeping on our sidewalk?

"See Phoebs. If you didn't text me that you were home, that could've been me." Nate cluelessly retorts at the newly-profound Dexter.

I nervously drive by Conroy and swerve the Chrysler to the garage's driveway. I stare at him through the side mirror. He seems awake hearing the sound of the engine stop. Dexter slightly raises his head, and puts his hands on them. His shoulders elevate, and consequently drops with a big sigh.

"Hey, I know that guy." Nate blurts. "Isn't he from your school?" He asks exiting his car.

"Uh, yeah." I speak along to the loud thumps of my nerves. "I'll go check if he's lost or something." I non-chalantly volunteer. Nate nods, and carries on towards our porch. He spares me a suspicious look before heading inside, and completely disappearing.

I'm just an inch away, standing next to the boy I like. It feels as if invisible hands are choking my neck. My head hurts, and all I want to do is sleep. Sleep is an art of forgetting, and all that embarrassment needs a shitload of it. My dignity can't take anymore moments involving this boy, but I'll have to. I want to, and I sure as hell will be spitting on fate's face if I don't.

"Dexter?" I croak in which he ignores. I nudge my knee unto his side, practically kicking him, and he faces me, taken by surprise.

"Phoebe." Conroy absent-mindedly blurts with his eyes shut. He gloriously opens them, and stares at me. "Phoebs?" His gaze narrows up into my eyes as he confirms my identity. "Phoebe, Hey!" So much emotion fills his face that I can't decipher his intentions.

"Hey, hobo." I openly greet him.

He chuckles looking around at where he is. "Easy." He warns. "You've already started calling me a baboon, I can't suffice another drastic stunt." Dexter mocks me.

"Okay, baboon." I humor him in agreement. "What brings you here? Last time I remembered, my house isn't school and if it were, it's a saturday, so why here at six in the morning?"

"Just taking a break." He smiles.

"Taking a break from what? Post-rescue jogging?" I snicker.

"Actually, I was looking for you." He admits. My throat runs dry, and my heart screeches to a stop.

"You were looking for me?" My inquisitive echo sounds so nervous and tensed that I bet he can notice it.

"Yeah, I borrowed my mom's phone to ask my friends to ask their friends if they knew your friends." He narrates, emphasizing how far we were at having common friends. "Your friend, Bailey wouldn't pick up, so I called that Kendra chick. She gave some pretty groggy instructions, but somehow, they led me here." Conroy beams at me. "I just had trouble finding the house nearest to the one with a wifi named 'captain pickles' though."