Mortis

17.

I awoke to the endless vibration of my phone. It seemed as if it had been vibrating for hours as it had ceased to remain still in my back pocket since I dozed off. As I came to with the real world around me, reality struck.

I snuck John out of the hospital.

I snuck a brain tumor patient out of a hospital.

I snuck a post-operative brain tumor patient out of the hospital and now we are on the run to God knows where.

"Fuck," was all I could mumble as I began to familiarize myself with the real world and leave the dream realm. I could feel the truck's movement beneath me. We were still driving.

I looked over at John in the driver's seat. He was wearing his hospital gown, there was gauze wrapped around his head and he was rocking very fuzzy hospital socks for shoes. One of his hands was on the steering wheel and the other was on...my lap.

I could feel my cheeks begin to burn. My leg muscles stiffened as if some rare bird had just perched itself on my leg and any slight movement would send it away, back into the wild. This bird was on the endangered species list, and was assumed to be extinct. Bird watchers and biologists everywhere had not had a sighting in years. It was as beautiful as it was rare. I didn't want the rare bird to go. I wanted it to stay perched on my lap and rustle its long blue feathers. I wanted it to sing to me. I wanted to keep the bird.

John looked over at me for split second, realized I was awake and quickly pulled his hand away from my lap. He placed it on the steering wheel and smiled. I could see his own pale cheeks suddenly shift to a warm pink.

The bird had flown away. Back to the wild.

I never got to hear it sing.

Come back.

"That phone of yours hasn't stopped, huh?" he asked me. The still air and memory of the bird was suddenly neutralized by innocent chatter. We weren't going to talk about the bird. It was never here.

"Why are my Hayden senses telling me that it's Julie who's been blowing me up?"

"I already dealt with my grown-up. It's your turn now."

"John, I am a grown up. I'm eighteen."

"Being eighteen doesn't make you a grown up."

"Yeah, it actually does."

"No, it makes you a legal adult, but that's about it. You're still a kid. An old kid, but a kid."

"I am not a kid."

"Can you balance a checkbook?"

"John, no one does that anymore."

"See? You're a kid. I'm a kid. We are kids. You're a baby adult at most. All cute and bug-eyed. You probably are just starting to get out of diapers."

I stared at him with a sleepy, narrowed gaze. My phone was continuing to vibrate relentlessly. "Dude, they did something to your brain."

"Well...yeah...we know this."

I sighed and pulled my phone out of my back pocket. I had a whopping twenty missed calls. All from my aunt.

"What's the damage report?" John asked with a smirk. He was loving this.