I Know Why The Caged-Bird Sings

Chapter 3: Written

Owen came over again on Saturday night, and then again Sunday afternoon. We would go out, and eat at Applebee's and drink blue-rasberry Mountain Dew on the way back home. "Shiloh Anne? Do you see this? It's the drink for the soul." He told me. I don't know what the means, really, but I agreed.

He has kept his shirt on these times I've seen him, and I'm still deciding if I'm lucky or sad about that. In these times, I've found out that he is a nudist (which didn't surprise me one bit, but I acted like I was), animal activist, humanitarian, and has a large collection of popsicle sticks under his bed.

Patrick, poor Patrick. I would like to write about him, but I haven't seen him. Sometimes, always very late at night I can hear him in the living room listening to Family Guy at full volume, but thats about the only news that I can bring to the table. I'm really worried about him.

But now it's 7:15 and it's time to go to school. I pick up my bag and start to yell. "See you after school Patrick!" As I expected there was no reply, and I started to walk to Ladner. Suddenly, I saw Owen walking from his porch.

Don't look at him

Don't look at him.

Don't look at him.

Don't look at him.

Don't look at him.

Don't look at him.

Fuck.

You looked at him.

"Damn, you are going to be late." I heard a familiar voice call from his white Chevy Corolla across the way. "Well, fuck you Owen!" I yelled, seeing him get in his car, and drive over.

"Come on, Shiloh Anne, get in." He urged, unlocking the doors. "Uh no." I said, looking forward, ignoring him. "This is not the time to be stubborn. You're going to be late." I laughed a bit. "Do you think I really care?" There was an awkward pause.

"Don't make me kidnap you." My eyes grew wide, and I peered in through his window. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me right. Kidnap you. If you don't get in, I'm going to kidnap you."

"No, no, no don't you-" Owen started to get out of the car and I started to run. "Help!" I screamed as he grabbed my backpack, and pulled it off and threw it to the sidewalk. I kept running until I felt his arms around my waist and he picked me up. "No!" I screamed (and laughed), flailing my arms and legs.

Suddenly, the door opened next to us, and a man stepped out with a gun. "Let go of her or I shoot." He immediatly let go, and it had to take all I could from not laughing. "Sorry, sir, we were just playing. Weren't we, Shiloh Anne?"

"He tried to kill me!" I screamed, grabbing my backpack and moving away from him. I swear the look I got was the best I have ever seen. He looked genuinely hurt. "Now get back in your car, and drive away, Mr." Owen listened, and started off for school. "Thanks Mr. Tibbets."

"Anytime, Shiloh. So you don't like that boy?"

"No I do."

"Haha, then I did my job right!"

"You are so mean to me." I laughed.

"I'm surprised he didn't realize that this was a fake gun!" The old man laughed, his wrinkles duplicating.

"I know!"

"Here have a brownie. I'll drive you."

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"What the hell was that for?" Owen asked, waiting outside the school for me. "What do you mean?" I asked stupidly, pushing past him, trying to head into school. "That old man could have shot me!" I laughed, knowing he hadn't realized it was all staged.