Secrets Are Only Skin Deep

Chapter 3 - Escaping Hearts

"Okay, so which house, Patty-Rick?" Charolette's uncle Clayton drove slowly down Oak Blvd. "The brick house?" His British accent made Charolette smile.

"Yeah. But please don't call me that?" As the car slowed, Patrick jumped out and ran into the house.

Putting the car in park. Charolette's uncle turned back and looked at her, smiling. "He's a keeper, love."

"Shut up, Clayton." Charolette threw her coat at his face.

"Why don't you call me uncle? Or at least Uncle Clay? Even your friend does."

"I call you Clay, don't I? And because I'm your most favourite niece, so I don't have to."

Clay nodded in agreement, then asked, "It's easy to be my favourite when you're my only, eh? You could, I dunno...kill someone with your evil powers or nuke Russia and you'd still be my favourite by default."

As Patrick opened the car door, Charolette gave her uncle a stern, yet joking look. "Don't even joke about my beloved Russia."

"Yeah, Uncle Clay," Patrick laughed, not knowing he was he origin of the conversation. "Your better leave Russia alone. Charolette's gonna be Czar there someday. Or the next Hitl-"

Charolette rammed her fist into his stomach. "Shut up! I have nothing against Jews! Just people in general. Just cause Aaron's a bitch to me it don't mean you can be, too..."

Hurt that she compared him to Aaron, Patrick sulked. To break the silence, Clay asked him, "So, your parents didn't care?"

"Don't know, don't care." Patrick tugged at Charolette's hoodie. She turned to look at him, and he acted as if he hadn't. His unhideable smile gave him away. Charolette smiled and held his hand, making her blush as bad as he was. Patrick cleared his throat and asked, "So, are you gonna be going through my bags like airport security, Uncle Clay?"

Before Clay could answer, Charolette added, "You probably should. He might have heroin or weed or another girl in there." At Patrick's glance, Charolette laughed. "Kidding, kidding!"

Clay shook his head. "I dunno if my lovely Char told you, but I am the coolest uncle ever. You could be planning a terrorist attack on the president and I'd be bringing you tacos." The three laughed as Clay turned off the car and they got out.

Charolette stopped in the doorway of her and her uncle's house. "Could we have tacos?"

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

Patrick shoved a few nachos in his mouth. "Shar-ut." He nudged Charolette as he swallowed heavily and straightened his hand of cards. "Go fish."

Charolette grabbed a card from the scattered pile on the floor in front of them and set a pair down in front of her. "Why are we even playing this?" She took a bite of one of the tacos.

Clay smiled and said, "Elementary, dear Charolette. Go Fish is the best."

Patrick looked at Charolette like she was dumb. "Duh."

Clay checked his watch; it said "11:57 P.M." "Oh, Char, could I talk to you for a second? In the kitchen?"

She nodded. "Sure." They both set down their cards and went in the kitchen as Patrick downed some more nachos.

"What's up?" Charolette asked as Clay shut the door behind them. Before she could turn, she felt something small and sharp being shoved into her arm, right where the itchy bump was before. She gasped in surprise and pain, then turned and saw Clay putting a syringe in her arm. "What the f-?!"

Clayton covered her mouth with his other hand. "Quiet, love, just calm down."

The liquid was all out of the syringe, so he carefully pulled it out. Charolette was about to object again, but her eyes rolled a little, then Clay held her and set her in a chair. Charolette was unconscious.