North Burton

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

North was right about one thing. Getting ready before school was a lot easier when there was only one body to be responsible for. However, that didn't mean I missed him any less. 

Wait.

Miss him? 

His smoking, arrogant, ditching self? Never mind. 

I walked into first period at ease. North was gone, and my life would go back to normal. Random people would stop looking at me like I was some second level celebrity, and instead look at me like a has-been. Or if I'm lucky, let me fade completely into the background.

As the tardy bell is ringing, one last body slipped through the classroom. I don't look up, it's probably one of the boys, Tony or Aaron.

"North, are we going to make a habit out of this now?" Mr. Whitaker scowled him. 

"Apologies," he grunted back, very insincere. 

My head snapped up as my eyes met North's. He sauntered his way back to the desk next to mine as soon as he saw me.

"Didn't think to call and check in once you were safe?" I spoke through gritted teeth, keeping my head facing the front.

His response was a shrug.

"Okay class. Let's talk about anatomy. What makes you? What makes me?" 

Just about everyone in the class tuned out around that point.

My mom spent the entire night next to the phone. She even went to work late, giving him a final chance to call. Of course, he never did. Why would North Burton ever want to do something that would show courtesy towards others. 

Telling Christian was hell. He exploded at all of us. Seeing his tears cascade down his tiny face made me feel worse then I already did. His Super Mario Brotha' was gone.

When class was over, North bee-lined for the door. I soon caught up to him, and stood in front of him, stopping him.

"Where are you staying?" I asked him.

"Non ya."

"It's for my mom's sake. You don't always have to be difficult" I crossed my arms.

"Nor do you."

"Where are you staying?" I ignored him and repeated myself.

He started to walk away.

"My mom will track you down, you know."

"Your mom? Or you?" he accused and kept walking.

Pissed, I yelled at his retreating back "My mom, you arrogant bastard!"

 He held up three fingers, the okay sign, never stopping.

At lunch I told Lucy that we were no longer housing the fugitive, much to her dismay. She would have no advantage to getting on his goodside.

"So he just left?" she pondered.

"Well yeah, I mean, I can see how I provoked him, but it was pretty out of nowhere. He just decided that it wasn't going to 'work out,'" I use my hands for air quotes, "and then left."

"And you don't know where he's living now?" she looked worried.

"No idea."

"What if he's living on the streets," her eyes widened.

"Lucy. Look at him. He obviously had a shower this morning."

Her lip jutted out, "Yeah, I guess. But that doesn't mean it's a good place."