Let Me Out

Chapter 2

     I give the reporters a little nod, and then I'm off. I run towards the circle of tents, the place where most surviving residents of  Grayville live now. I see my neighbors bright orange tent, and my grandma's purple one. Grandma's purple tent flies a flag that says, "Elderly. Do not disturb." Part of me thinks this is funny, because grandma is one of the most active, hilarious, forgiving people I know. But part of me knows that the sign isn't just because she's old. I stop at the entrance, listening for breathing or rustling to let me know she is "home."

     "Knock knock?" I ask gently. I hear a sing-song voice respond.

     "Come in, little kitten." My grandmother says. I roll my eyes and hear her unzip the flap of the tent. I poke my head around, curious as to what her new home looks like. It was pretty nice for the equivalent of a tarp on some sticks. An old mattress sits in the corner, with one of those fancy bug light lanterns next to it. A small plastic box holds a water filter, a towel, a flashlight, and a pair of mismatched socks. Next to that are a few weights and some pain killers. 

     "Nice place." I comment, trying my best to stand straight and look her in the eye. Grandma isn't strict, but it was best to look strong for her, despite the tears drying from my eyes. She looks at me with sympathy. With the reporters, I would have been angry. But I knew she meant it, and that she felt the same way I did. 

       She puts her hand in my shoulder and laughs, mirroring my attempts to be strong "Ha! It's just as much my place as it is yours. I know your mother wants you with her, but she won't mind if you and I spend some time together." I flinch at the mention of my mother. It's not that I don't love her, because I do. It's just that she wasn't here for the fire. She wasn't here to watch dad die, an she wasn't here to see the men run away. She lives in the big city, about 20 miles away from us. She wouldn't understand. 

     Mom and dad had been divorced for as long as I can remember. I was practically born knowing my family was split. But I never minded. Some of my friends at school had their parents go through a divorce, and they would always go to me. The truth was that I never really knew what to say. I had never known any other life. Maybe it was better off that way. Maybe if mom had lived with us, she would have been killed, too. 

     Mom had begged me to go back with her to the city, but I refused. I wanted to stay and help, I wanted to grieve. Mom agreed to get me my own tent, and she brought me and some of the residents food every day. I think she was the opposite of me. She wanted to move on as quickly as possible, for me to leave this place as soon as I can.

     I could never leave this place, not now. First of all, I've got grandma. She's old and needs me as much as I need her. We're family, and leaving her behind would break both of our hearts. Second, I hate the city.  The few times I have been there, well, I was miserable. All the noise, and the smell of car exhaust, and pushing and shoving to get anywhere. It's terrible. I wouldn't go back if I was forced to. Which just might happen.

     "Yeah, like I would leave my sweet tent!" I joke, hoping to clear my head. She laughs and glares at me mockingly. She creeps closer to me, inch by inch. I know what she's doing. At the last second I dart away, skidding to the other side of the tent. She raises her hands in claws and aims for my stomach, like a bomb aims for its target. I squeal like a little girl and swivel around. Suddenly, I freeze. "Stop it, grandma." I bark, my words as hard as steel. She lowers her fingers, and backs away. I mutter a goodbye and am out of the tent. I'm not a little girl anymore, and I shouldn't act like one. How can I be so cruel? My father just died, and I was laughing like it never happened. I shake my head in disgust and march up the hill. I head towards our burnt and broken town, looking for a quite place to go. And I walk straight into mom.

     "Hello sweetie!" She chirps

      "Don't call me that." I mutter.

       "Look hon, I know you're hurting-" I stop her before she can continue. I know what she's getting at.

        "Mom, drop it. Just give me a few days or something. That's what's in those fancy physcologist books, right?  I just need time. Or something."

      "Don't talk to me like that. And you don't have a place here anymore. Where will you go to school?" She tries to counter me.

     "Mom! Dad just died! Do you not understand this? What is wrong with you? It's like he never existed or something!" I scream. "School is the least of my worries!" She frowns, and tries to put her hand on my shoulder. I pull away faster than a bolt of lightning, and I flinch like one too. 

     "Lila, I just want you to be safe and happy. What if somebody comes to hurt you? A  mass of tents next to a burnt town is an easy target. In the city, you'll be safe." That strikes a little too close to home. I don't want the dark figures coming back. Whoever they are, they didn't look safe. But I have to stay. 

     "No."

     "Please! Just for the weekend, then you can decide!" I watched the pained expression on her face. I felt bad that I was upsetting her, but a tiny part of me was enjoying it. She deserves this. She deserves to feel at least a small fraction of what I'm feeling.

     "Mom, I keep telling you, I don't want to, so stop!" Suddenly, I feel warm arms around my waist, and I smell grandmas soap. 

     "You can take her, Penny." My grandma says quietly. I am shocked.