When The Time Comes

chapter 20; Omar

"When did you learn how to pick locks?" I bite into a cheese stick. We're seated outside a Papa John's with our backpacks on the chairs beside us. Today was the last day on our reservations so we either find a new place to stay or get going to the airport. To be honest, I haven't decided what I want to do next.

"It's been a couple of years," Lib responds, dipping her fry into ketchup. "You can YouTube literally anything."

"You do realize how shady that makes you look, right?" I say. "Besides, why'd you need to look that up anyway? Whose house were you breaking into?"

"Who said I was breaking into anything?"

I shrug, "From what I saw..."

"And you assume you know everything," she sighs, folding one of her legs under her. She's still got her black hood drawn so parts of her face are shadowed.

"You say that a lot," I tell her. "That nobody knows your life and we're strangers but you don't really talk about yourself."

"You want me to talk about myself?"

"Not everything has to be confrontational. I get that you're dying but I am too, so why not just try and be civil?"

She doesn't reply and I assume it's because I've pissed her off. This time, I exhale deeply and look down the road, watching people come and go.

"I learnt a lot of shit as a teenager and it's not because I had to," Liberty breaks my train of thought. I stay quiet and she goes on.

"I used to steal shit," she breaks eye contact briefly, staring off into her lap. "From stores at the mall and when I was thirteen, I googled how to pick locks. I'm not sure why I did but for a while, I was obsessed with buying locks and practicing on them in my room."

I watch her sullen frame, processing what she's telling me. The hood blankets most of her expressions from me.

"I thought it made me look cool," she continues. "And between my circle at school, it did for a while. I stopped hanging around them eventually."

"I was framed for stealing a girl's wallet," she chuckles, lifting her chin. "The girl that framed me was my best friend at the time. I never stole from friends or family."

"That must've been rough," I comment.

"It was but I reckoned it was better for me that it happened to me so young, y'know. Highschool is a scary place and for people I knew, things just got worse from then on out. At least, I got out of my head earlier on, learnt how to enjoy my own company."

"Huh."

"And then there was the math club, of course," she grins but it doesn't reach her eyes. "That was a nice escape. I was busy and around people but nobody really likes each other in math club, do they?"

"I'm not sure," I reply, awkwardly.

"I'm not confrontational Omar," she folds her arms on the edge of the table, some pieces of hair poking out from under her hood. "I'm just tired, y'know. I don't want to sound cliché, fuck, but I think it's easier to be bitchy than to regret being too nice to the wrong people."

I take a moment to let her words sink in.

"That is definitely a very cliché' thing to say."

"Shut up."

She cracks a smile, a more freeing one than before. It breaks the tension for a while and we keep eating. I offer her a cheese stick which she hesitantly takes before pouring a couple of fries on my side.

"I bet high school was a breeze for you," Liberty says. "Music and basketball, people probably flocked to you."

"It was alright," I begin. "I think I hated it as much as anyone else did, but you miss being that young, miss not knowing any better."

"I don't miss it at all," Liberty mumbles, lowering the straw from her mouth.

"I'm sorry you had such a tough time," my words pretty much bounce off her at this point. Whatever Liberty has been through, she doesn't soak in pity. If anything, her nose scrunches in revulsion.

"I wonder how Ben's holding up," she drifts off.

"Fuck Ben," the words exit my throat like a reflex.

She gives me a pointed look to which I just shrug. "He better be hiding some place because I swear once we get back..."

"Really?"

"Why are you so protective of him? He screwed you too."

"He needed the money for his brother."

"Like we don't have family we'd want to leave money to?"

She pauses before replying, "I'm not being protective, there's just no point in talking about him. He's gone and so is the money."

"Fine but I'm still going to see him once we get back," I say.

"About that," she says uncomfortably. "I'm not going back with you."

"What?" this throws me off completely. Does she want to stay in Baltimore?

"I'm not ready to go back yet."

"Why not?"

"I just don't," she snaps. "I still have the money we got from Andrew's place and I don't want to see my mom right now."

I watch her, skeptically. I can tell she's lying but what about, I'm not sure.

"Where will you stay? Do you know anyone in Baltimore?"

"No but I'll manage, there are hostels and..."

"What is this really about, Liberty?"

She stares at me expressionless for a while before saying, "Don't call me that, call me Lib."

"What?"

"I don't like people saying my full name," she says with a straight face.

"Fine, Lib," I try again. "But what is this about? Why would you want to stay here?"

Under the table, I catch her oscillating her foot anxiously, heel still touching the ground. The wind pushes her hood down and I lock eyes with her.

"Your hair," I'm unable to stop the words from spilling out my mouth. I regret it instantly because she pulls it back on her head, hiding the ear length hair she now has. When did she cut her hair?

"I can't go home, Omar," she stands up and pulls her bag from the chair. "For what it's worth, I hope you survive like Stewart might have."

She leaves and I watch her silhouette shrink, smaller and smaller down the street until eventually she is out of sight. What the hell just happened? Finally, it feels like I can move my feet and I get up to follow her.