Problem Children

Chapter Twenty Five

Scenery painted itself on the windows of the car, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. Tires rumbled down into potholes, rocks, and the occasional curb. A hand reached out to palm the window and was met with one identical. It's never sure which hand imitates the other, but perhaps in this instance, the faded reflection put out her hand so as to comfort the real girl, whose gloom didn't need a second image.

Her mother glanced next to her and adjusted her hands on the wheel. Turning onto the highway, any chance of a final goodbye from either of Hannah's friends was considered faint. Both of them had waited all morning. Malcolm showed up, sure. Bright and early too. Sick. Hannah opened the door and smiled for a second, soon vanishing as her eyes searched for his brother. When Malcolm shrugged in response, she cracked another smile, smaller this time, and hugged him.

"Good to see you too," Malcolm croaked in his hoarse voice. It was a few minutes before they separated. Hannah's eyes searched once more for the other boy, but in vain. "He's sick," Malcolm croaked again. "We both are."

"Is he worse than you?" the girl inquired. The boy coughed.

"He jus' got it, a full fever an' everything," he answered. Looking around him as well for any stray ears, he smiled. "He's a bit of a baby."

Hannah laughed a little, then suddenly stopped. There wasn't much time left before the truck came. She rubbed her wrist and glanced at her feet. "Will he-be coming later, or..." Again Malcolm shrugged.

"He better, else he can't say good-" The young man stared into her eyes, those that were still fascinated with her shoe buckles. His face fell as well. "Good, good..." He cleared his throat. "He'll come. He promised. And...I promise you he'll come this afternoon, if not later this morning. Why, any minute he might be coming 'round the corner." Without speaking, both seemed to know he wasn't. Hannah sighed inciting Malcolm to place a hand on her shoulder. "I promise."

"He'll come," Hannah spoke up finally looking at him. "He'll manage, even if he is sick."

"So uh," the boy began, changing the subject. "How are you? You uh-anxious to get back to the states?"

"I mean, I've grown up here, I don't really remember America enough to miss it. This is my home."

"Your accent will change back," he said with a smile. "You were just startin' to get a real authentic Aussie voice."

"You both are too," she stated. "I mean, with your voices it's a little harder to tell, but it's there."

"Our voices? Somethin' wrong with 'em?" he asked with a look.

"Nothing, nothing. But..." The girl began laughing to herself despite the foggy heart in her chest. Malcolm reached a hand over and tickled her neck making her laugh more.

"You makin' fun of us or somethin'?" he laughed with her. Any old stranger walking down the sidewalk would have scoffed or stared in confusion. But these two children didn't care, as they enjoyed laughing together for the final time...

Sighing, Hannah removed her hand from the window, and rested her cheek on her fist. After waiting a few more hours after Malcolm had gone home with one last hug, she had given up hope. A promise made doesn't mean a promise kept, and she learned that the hard way. Did he forget? His brother would have reminded him. Was he really too sick to come? Angus was a tough guy, despite Malcolm's idea of him being less adaptable to immunity inconveniences. Maybe he...chose not to?

But why not? It was last week they had let the music in the old gym twirl them 'round the floor in waves of euphoria and happiness. It was that night they lost themselves in the other's company as they held each other in their arms. It was that moment Angus decided to, even if on the spur of the moment, show a rare display of affection.

A groove in the road shook the car, sending the girl out of her thoughts. The clouds had begun to darken over the sun and Hannah put up her sun visor. Not a word had been exchanged between the passengers the whole trip so far, and few would be exchanged further still. The woman driving seemed not to be aware of her daughter's depression, and she'd never know the factors of that night that only deepened the trench she was in now. No, she'd never find that out.

"Shame the sun went away," she finally said keeping her eyes on the road. "It was such a beautiful day." Hannah didn't think the day could ever be beautiful. "Ready to be off the road, above the clouds where the sun is. Ready to be home."

"We were home," Hannah replied softly. Her mother gave a swift glance in her direction.

"You were born in America, dear, we both were. I grew up there-"

"Well I didn't. I grew up here, this is my home." The driver sighed.

"You'll really like it there. I mean, I know you were too young to remember any of it, but...there's all different kinds of climates, and mountains, forests, and the animals aren't as rough looking," she laughed to herself. "It's summer over there, school's out so you won't have to go back for a few months."

"I'm not going back."

"You have to, America doesn't just let their students out so young like here does."

"I'm not just taking my leave, I'm dropping out," Hannah replied, her voice firm. "I told you, I'm not wasting my time anymore." The older woman straightened her posture and declared with a voice of steel.

"Well, sorry to step on your so utterly thought out plans, but you have no choice."

"It is too my choice, I'm done taking orders from anyone." Hannah crossed her arms, knowing good and well it upset her mother when she did this. Sure it made her a bit childish in her appearance, but it was just the right touch to add a little defiance in her arguments.

"Young lady, you live under my roof. You are fourteen years old, under my roof living by my rules. You will finish school and as soon as you move out you can do whatever your immature little head pleases, but until then you're going to school."

"Let me live with Angus then," Hannah mumbled. "I'd sooner go by their rules than yours." Mouth agape, her mother frowned at her and stared back at the long and winding road ahead of them. A thick silence settled between them. Hannah opened her window a tad letting the cool air balance out with the tension.

"That boy never came over, did he?" Hannah winced. "The doorbell never rang a second time."

"He was sick," she replied simply. Her mother smirked to herself, imagining this to be the beginning of her daughter finally letting go of those bad influences she called her friends. Dropping out of school and defying authority could only be the work of those two boys, and their work must be undone one way or another. Hannah turned her head so she could lean against the seat away from her mother's eyes. "He had a fever and couldn't...couldn't come."

The color of the sky had cast a dull shadow on the woman's face, making the lines on her face bolder this particular day. Her lips were red and proper, with not one hair on her head out of place. One unacquainted with her wouldn't dare take a chance to make hash of her command. More times than not this intimidation factor had been used to her advantage. "Takes you to a dance and doesn't even say goodbye, what a young man he is."

"It doesn't help that I never really told him," Hannah defended, fiddling with her seat belt. "It kept getting put off and of course I got cold feet and-"

"Maybe he wanted to make this as least awkward as possible for the both of you," her mother suggested. "Perhaps his feelings didn't quite match yours and knowing how sad this farewell would have been, he decided to stay at home." Hannah clenched the seat belt within her fingers, knowing exactly what her mother was getting at. And it was working. Using every last ounce of strength she had left, she ignored the chilling statements spewed out at her like erupting magma. "Better close your eyes and catch some sleep, honey, it's a long way to America."

Within the pocket of her jacket, Hannah pulled out a flower petal. A petal from the same bouquet given to her before the dance. Most of it was left in the backseat of Malcolm's car, but one solitary petal had lodged itself into Hannah's shoe and she discovered it after Angus had brought her home. She kept it; not as an odd vagary, rather simply to remember that night. Though now, with the wind blowing on her face, the rain sprinkling her cheeks, and her whole world in one man distanced more and more every second behind her, perhaps that night was one she would rather forget. Clutching it in her fingers, she held it to the window, and set it free.