You're My Chase

Chapter Nine

Tommy third person POV:

Heart pounding, he raced down the hall, his footsteps snapping against the hard floor and thundering off the walls, clutching the sweater in his hands.

"This is my fault, why did I ever think this was a good idea?" he hissed to himself, his knuckles clenched. "I'm stupid, absolutely stupid. My friends are right. I do the stupidest things at the worst times."

His head still throbbed from where Dream had hit him a few hours back, but he ignored it, instead trying to find a way to figure out where Purpled was. He still couldn't believe that Dream had managed to absolutely sweep him in just a few seconds, right when it really mattered the most.

For all the times Purpled had given him a cold shoulder, Tommy felt like he sure deserved it all. Every time he thought about Purpled being taken away by Dream his heart sank lower and lower into his chest till it rested at his feet, at rock bottom.

But another part of him also wondered, why? Why had Purpled still agreed to go with him, knowing who Dream is and what he can do?

Curse his Theseus name, he really needs to be less persuasive for his own—and others—good. Purpled may have pawned it off as spite, but it was more likely to be his own fault for this mess.

Racing through, a flash of bright green flashed at him, and his brain did a quick somersault. Dream! He had to speak with him, and demand to know where Purpled was. Hugging the corner, the figure in the green stood right in front of him.

"Dream!" he shouted, anger bubbling over his words.

The figure whirled around, their green hair bouncing, and their green eyes wide. "Um, can I help you?"

Tommy's eyes widened and he skidded to a stop. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I'm just trying to find somebody." He gave a dry chuckle that had no ounce of humor in it.

They grinned good-naturedly. "Figured as much. I'm Awesamdude, although people like to call me Sam. You're Tommy, right?"

While he nodded, he quickly checked the guy out. He wore a regular green sweater, but he also wore black gloves with gold brass knuckles, black jeans that held at least twenty large pockets, and brown boots tied up at his ankles. Out of one of his various pockets peeked a wrench, a measuring tape, and a pencil.

"Are you a mechanic?" he blurted out, his mind spinning.

Sam tilted his head. "Why? Did something break?"

"I was kind of hoping that you could build something . . ." he admitted.

"Like what?"

Tommy took a breath. This was a risky plan. Dream could definitely find out about it. But what else was he supposed to do? Smile and hope for the best? "You know how to make a tracker, right?" he asked, watching for his reaction.

"For a pet? I have a ton of collars. Which type would you like?"

"No, for, like, a human. One that doesn't look like a tracker, but still is."

Sam's emerald eyes narrowed, and he wondered if he just should have asked for the stupid pet one. "I . . . might. But that's an unusual request, for somebody your age. Why would you want something like that?"

He shrugged, deciding to just ride his problem out now. "I live an unusual life, right now. How much will it be, and what does it look like?"

The man brought his hands together and stared off into the distance. The seconds ticked by with every beat of Tommy's heart, waiting for the answer. "Can I ask why you might want this item?" he finally asked, his eyes shifting over.