Survival in Sermont

Chapter Eleven

P.O.V.- Arson

"You're crushing on September," I accuse Rose.

Ever since the two introduced each other, she has been eyeing him every chance she's got. She's even been saying hi to him in passing several times.

I can't blame her though. Since my own encounter with September, for some odd reason, he's been locked on my mind. There's something about him that intrigues me, that draws me to him. I don't know what though. The answer is close, just behind my subconscious, but I can't figure it out.

"Says who?" Rose questions, narrowing her eyes.

"Your eyes."

"Oh, shut up." She snares as she crosses her arms. "You want to see him just as much as I do."

That is true. I need to find out what it is about him that's got me hooked. Hopefully, seeing him outside of school will reveal it.

"Nope," I lie, shaking my head.

"Don't lie to me, Nicolas," Rose orders as she crumbles a leave into our small fire. "We're too close for that crap."

I sigh. She's right. We have been through everything together, from graduating from kindergarten to my parents divorcing. From my being at the hospital for two days straight when she broke her arm to her even being on the phone with me every sleepless night I have, which is often.

"Alright. Alright. I do want to see him," I confess, striking another match and dropping it into the fire.

We're currently sitting in an alleyway huddled around a fire. Rose and I do this often when we don't want to be home, which is pretty much every day. First, we find an empty alleyway and then, we simply spend our time talking as we gorge on unhealthy snacks and burn matches.

"You sure you're not into guys?" She asks, raising a brow.

"Shut up." I glare at her. "There's something about him... I don't know... something that draws me in... like a distant memory I just barely can't grasp."

Rose rises, standing tall in her heeled-basketball shoes. I don't know how, but she makes those shoes look stylish. They have a red body with white laces, soles, and heels. I guess it has to do with what she pairs them with. Today, she's wearing a matching quarter-sleeve Raglan shirt and boyfriend shorts.

"Then let's go, bub." She takes hold of my hands and pulls me up.

We walk down the street to my car. Rose grabs the driver's side handle and opens the door.

"No. I'm driving," I demand. Nobody drives my dear charger.

"You know where to go?" She knowingly asks. I shake my head. "That's what I thought. Now, get in the damn car."

I raise my hands in surrender and take my spot in the passenger seat. Rose fixes her rose-gold lipstick and reapplies brown mascara before driving off.

We pass one building after building. I watch as they gradually transform from being clean and polished to dirty and broken down. As we get halfway, I think we're there, but Rose shakes her head and tells me not yet. It's not until we get to the worse of the worse that we're there.

I stare at my surroundings. What I see surprises me. Store lights flicker. Moving doors creak. Building walls are dark and rotten. Random windows are boarded close and faded shop sighs hang loosely. Graffiti decorates the buildings, the stop signs, and nearly everything else. The place is badly out of shape.

Yet the people, they surprise me even more. Children, dressed in patched jeans and long wool cardigans that swallow them whole, play in the snowy streets, giggling and making snow angels. A few sport holey shirts. Several more wear beat-up shoes. All of them appear scrawny. Nonetheless, joy fills their eyes. They dash across the streets, playing tag, and tumble over as laughter carries through the wind.

The adults are no different. Men, with patterns cut into their hair and tattoos across their faces and up their necks, sip from bottles as they stand around badass muscle cars. They holler with glee as certain things are said. Backs are patted. Crooked smiles are shared.

Women, done up in heavy yet gorgeous makeup and gold adornments, dance merrily amongst the men, twirling with the music. Some sway slowly in the arms of their boyfriends or husbands, whichever they are. Others lovingly snuggle up close to their men, laying their heads on their shoulders.

Everyone seems happy despite the conditions they live in. Warmth radiates from the pure joy shared. Positive vibes spread throughout the streets. A homely atmosphere has been created and it absolutely amazes me.

I turn around as we drive, looking at all the sheer joy to be found.