Fairytales

Chapter 17

I'd finally lost it.

Not in the way I'd been thinking the last few days, the padded room and straight jacket kind of way, but in the "desperate times call for desperate measures" kind of way.

That was the only explanation. Why else would I be walking through town, alone, on a perfectly good Sunday afternoon?

I'd spent my Friday and Saturday night stressing, whether about what had happened at the ice cream shop or Chase's current MIA status, it didn't really matter. All I know is that my whole body was on edge, every bit of me caught between punching a wall and running screaming down the street like a mad woman. All I'd wanted to do was curl up in a ball and pretend none of it had happened.

Instead, I'd had to work at the bookshop all day Saturday, under the careful eye of Rita. I couldn't even have a break down in private. So, instead of focusing on anything that might send me into a mental tailspin, I focused my attention on something I might be able to fix. Chase.

After a night and a day of texting, calling, instant messaging and everything short of putting a letter in the mail box, all while nursing a killer, probably stress induced, headache and an even riskier temper, I'd begun to fear the worst. Car accident, malaria, the black plague. Every scenario had played through my very vivid imagination. By the time I'd woken up this morning I'd been sure something horrible must have happened.

I'd almost gotten desperate enough to go to that party Saturday night, just to make sure he wasn't avoiding me with Miss. Spanish project, but my deeply instilled dislike of being questioned by the Sheriff for underage drinking (again) had kept me firmly seated on the couch to continue worrying there. The memory of Chase's face when he'd said he wasn't going had helped quite a bit with that decision too. That, at least, hadn't been an act.

Which was how I'd ended up here, sweating in my Walmart brand flip-flops (courtesy of Rita) on the South Side of town and wondering why the heck Chase would bother making the twenty minute journey to my house every morning before school. He must have to get up twice as early as I did.

Mostly, I cursed myself and Chase with every step. Damn him. If I found out he was ignoring me, he was dead. So dead. I'd make sure he was alive and then I'd kill him.

I trudged along the empty sidewalk slowly, wondering what I was doing. Getting so worked up over someone who could most definitely take care of himself, much better than I could.

I wasn't beginning to have second thoughts. Really.

It was hot again, hot enough that I was beginning to regret the t-shirt and jeans that I'd hastily thrown on that morning. Shorts, I'd learned very early on, were my best friend during a Texas summer. Twice already, I'd crossed the street just to walk under the shade of one of the dozens of oak trees lining the street.

I reached down to pat my bag and the little red and white wrapped present I'd stuffed inside it. Chase and I didn't exchange birthday gifts. It was an unspoken rule that had started in the years following his mom's murder. But dropping off a birthday present was a good excuse on the off chance that I ran into Jacklyn, Chase's stepmother, without any excuse. She probably wouldn't need one, especially considering how much she seemed to adore me, but it couldn't hurt to be prepared. She didn't need to know that I'd just wrapped the pencil case I kept in my desk, the closest thing to me at the time, in the left over rolls of wrapping paper my Aunt had lying around the house.

The little slapping noises of my tie dye flip flops mixed with the soft gurgling sounds of the fountain taking shape in the distance. The glorified water gun, sporting mermaids, giant fish, and even a sea horse here and there, looked out of place beside the modest houses just a little ways up the street, which was kind of the point. The fountain was the dividing point, signifying the border between the haves and the, well, not have-nots exactly. Maybe the have-not-as-much's.