The Art of You

when we were young

The walk to school was lonely for Carl. He always had Debbie 500 feet in front of him but he wanted someone he actually could talk to. He always felt so out of the circle, being the second youngest in the Gallagher family and the most violent things got hard. He didn't know who he was, he had no friends, no one besides that knife he had hidden so far in his book bag that his teacher couldn't find it...... this time.

As he walked he saw a little girl about his age with a pink my little pony book bag. She was being yelled at by some bitch with a cigarette in one hand and a baby in the other.

"Quincy I'm fucking over it! Get your ass to school! NOW!"

The lady looked like she just snorted 15 bags of coke and maybe a dose of heroin. Carl looked away before she made eye contact with him. The little girl, who he assumed was "Quincy" cried and ran across the street, getting closer to Carl. The meth head lady went back inside and muffled yells were heard outside of the house. Quincy wiped her eyes and walked to school. Something in Carl made him walk a little faster, to catch up he pulled his bag up further on his shoulders and took longer strides. She looked back and noticed the chubby cheeked boy with his t-shirt on inside out and backwards walking towards her. She smiled a soft smile at him and fixed her blue jean jacket.

"Hi. I'm Carl." breaking the silence and finally stepping up to the 8 year old girl's side. "Hi Carl. I am Quincy." She kept looking for eye contact but he kept his eyes on the ground. "Why is your shirt inside out?" She asked and he finally looked up at her. He had soft green eyes that were hindered by his dark circles under his eyes. He looked down and shrugged his shoulders. "No clean shit." His gaze hit straight ahead again.

Walks to school became an annual thing. They would meet each other in front of her house every day and talk about things that 8 year old's from south side Chicago talk about. It had been a couple months and the walks were still a daily thing but Quincy seemed out of it; less talkative. And fuck that girl never shut up. Carl noticed but was too scared to say anything. He noticed the little things about her, like her butterfly earring that she never took out or the way she lied to make it seem like her life at home was what everyone wanted. She just wanted something normal. A father to love her, ya know, to protect her from the boys and say she was "daddy's little girl." Something she never had. For her 7th birthday she had talked her mom into letting her call her dad who she had never spoken to, never seen in person, nothing.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" a strong voice answered on the other end of the phone. Quincy's enthusiasm grew as she heard muffled voices in the back that sounded very much like little kids. "Who is this?" his voice rumbled again. She hesitated to talk but she managed to get the words she had been longing to say to her father. Her real father, not a guy mom had brought home and swore he was gonna stick around. "Hi daddy, it's your daughter! Quincy!" She smiled brightly even though he couldn't see her. "I don't have another daughter. Do not call my phone again." The line went dead. She cried and cried to her mom. "I tried to tell you he was a prick Quin." Her mom had to remind her she was right. Always. All she wanted was someone to love her the way a father should.

Carl asked and asked what was wrong with her that day walking to school but she avoided it by asking about volunteering for Debbie at her daycare, or by walking a little faster so he would have to run up to her again. He stopped asking when they got to class. After school yelling could be heard from Quincy's house, but living in south side it was a norm.

The next day Carl waited at the usual spot to walk with Quincy to school. He had came a few minutes early so they could eat a couple powdered donuts together before school. He sat on the curb and ate a few while he waited. Quincy's house seemed still, very little movement. It had been a whole hour and still no Quincy but he still waited, and waited and waited. He ate the whole pack of donuts and did not budge.

Back at the Gallagher house are hectic as usual but his absence is noted. "Where's Carl?" Ian asked. They all looked around the kitchen table then to Debs. "He was behind me when I walked to school this morning?" she said. "Well give him a few maybe he's with that one kid down the street that has been cutting up the neighbors cat." Lip said clearly not paying much attention to what was going on. Fiona insisted they all go out and look for him before dinner, "Carl could be doing anything for God's sake." She pushed everyone out the door and they searched for the 8 year old. They looked in the van, at Kev and Veronica's, they looked at Sheila's. But he was sitting on the curb waiting for Quincy still.

Lip ran to Carl who had a stick in his hand killing bugs that passed by him on the sidewalk. "Where have you been?" Lip lifted Carl by the under arms and sat him up on his feet. "Right here, waiting for Taylor." They both looked up at the white house and Lip lifted Carl over his shoulder and walked home. The rest of the Gallagher's met back at the house and Lip explained where he found him and why he was waiting there.