To Fly Away

Chapter Two

I take the long way home.

I don’t know how much time I spent at the falls but it must have been hours, because as I’m trudging up the gravel driveway to the Mckeon mansion I notice Sebastian’s Jeep parked in front of the house. I glance to his second story window, hoping to catch a glimpse but the shades are shut, like always.

I swallow my disappointment.

The poolhouse sits beside the pool. I’ve never actually been in the pool because I’m not sure if I’m allowed and I don’t own a bathing suit, but no one uses the little shack beside it, and so, I do. It’s nice, like everything else owned by the Alpha, so I can’t complain.  

Most of my time is spent here, away from the rest of the pack. It’s rare that I see even the Mckeons, and I like it like that. I stay out of their way because sometimes I wonder if they even remember that I live in their backyard, and a little part of my mind tells me that if they did they would take back their sympathy and kick me out. It’s not hiding, exactly.

I just don't like to be noticed.

I buy my own food with my own money that I earn from my own job. Most in the pack my age are given large allowances by their wealthy parents and don’t have to work like I do. I appreciate everything that the Alpha of this pack has done for me.  I don’t need all those privileges, and I don’t want to think about where I would be if not for his hospitality. Probably a rogue, or dead. But sometimes I don’t think that being a rogue could be much worse than life here.

The abuse hasn’t stopped. It’s been years, but people still remember ‘what I did’. They still hate me for the murder I didn’t commit. When I’m at school, as I walk home, wherever I go. Rocks are thrown.  Words are spat from behind barred teeth and eyes full of so much hatred.  I get hit, most days.  

They loved her. And now, they despise me.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill at the dark thoughts. There’s a lump in my throat that won’t go away. Usually I try not to think about what happened.  

Now, I pause at my door. I suddenly can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. It’s strange, a small tickle at the back of my neck.  Like a gust of wind whispering at my skin but the air is still.  I glance behind me and see no one; shuffle on my feel a little.  No one’s there. I shake my head, push the feeling away and jam my key into the keyhole. I’m getting paranoid.

But something tells me that’s not it.

***

I pass time for about three hours, mostly reading and texting Charlot. I dread going to work and having to face society again, but eventually I have to. This job is too important for me to lose, even if it is only waitressing.

It’s raining when I leave the house. Sheets of water pour down from the deep grey clouds, soaking me in seconds. I curse under my breath. With the small income I make, I haven’t saved up nearly enough for a car. This town is too small for a bus system, and so I’m forced to walk.

As I sprint down the drive, I can’t help but glance up at that window on the second floor again. The shades are open now, but there’s no sign of Sebastian. I don’t know why I should care.

***

The rain doesn’t let up and my ebony black mess of hair is tangled and clinging to my face as I step into the diner. I’m wearing a ratty Ramones tee and boot cut jeans that are drenched, of course, and sticking to me in weird places.  My shivering is bad, extremely noticeable.

My boss is Bruce. He’s an older guy, probably in his fifties, really skinny with crew cut grey hair and deflated muscles. He gives me a small, sympathetic smile as I make my way behind the counter, but says nothing.

I bus tables for a while. I keep my head down, and generally stay away from my co workers.  They, unlike the pack members that I go to high school with, don’t voice their hatred for me outloud, but it’s not hard to tell. They still glare, just like everyone else.

So I do what I always do, which is ignore it, and things go like normal for a while.  

I’m wiping down a table when I see them. Sebastian, with Azia wrapped around his arm. Behind them is Diana, and Jacob, one of Sebastian’s friends whom I’ve never really come into contact with. Stifling a startled gasp, I quickly lower my head, letting my hair fall in front of my face.

They  never come to the diner!  What are they doing here tonight? I had hoped not to see Azia again after what happened in the hallway this morning, and even though I knew it was inevitable I hadn’t expected it to be this soon. Meeting her now, at work, is definitely not good.

They sit somewhere behind me at one of the empty tables. They’re talking. I can hear Sebastian’s voice only feet away. Azia Laughs at something he says. They don’t seem to have noticed me yet.

Some of the tension in my shoulders relaxes, and I let out a breath. They won't recognize me anyway, and  maybe Azia doesn’t even care about this morning. It’s not like I hit her that hard.

Still, I try to move back behind the counter discretely. I don’t think Azia is going to let it slide that easily, and I’d rather not get fired for getting into a fight while on the clock. They haven’t noticed me yet, thats a good sign.

“Leah.”

I wince at the loud voice and lift my head marginally, trying to keep my face covered.

“Yeah?” I don’t know why I’m whispering.

Bruce gives me a curious look. “There’s a table in your section that needs wants drinks. What are you doing back here? Go.”

“Oh, um. Yeah,” I say, my voice faltering. I don’t need to look to know which table he’s referring to.  Crap! I turn on my heel, my escape route blocked. I have no choice.  

I raise my chin, trying to put on a brave face.

I want to cry.

I have never spoken a word to Sebastian, not in the three years that I’ve lived here. Does he hate me, too? 

“Are. . . You guys ready to order?” I ask, hating the way my voice squeaks as I do. My hands tremble, almost breaking  the little notepad I hold in two.

It happens as if in slow motion. Sebastian turns to face me, a smile still on his lips from his conversation. I think I might have interrupted them, but my ears are humming and my heart is pounding and it’s all so loud I didn’t notice.

He looks at me. And he says nothing, for a while. A little frown creases his brow. I think I count in my head, in some subconscious part of my mind, because I’m sure that it’s exactly five seconds of silence before Sebastian opens his mouth and says, “Aren’t you the girl who killed Clementine?”