Minna

Chapter 14

~ In which two people come to an understanding

Patch was shell shocked, whatever that means. She was shocked in all aspects of the word.

     She was disappointed.

     But most of all... She was hungry.

     Stupid Minna held her in his arms for, like, two hours, only to tell her he regretted meeting her. How was a middle school girl supposed to take it? Cross that, how was a teenage (ahem, pre-teen) girl supposed to take it? Well, Patch was hungry.

     "I s-see." Patch said quietly, trying to keep her voice from cracking. She got up from the same spot where Minna had been holding her tightly, minutes before, and dusted her shorts.

     She looked down once to see Minna looking up at her. For a moment it was like he couldn't understand why she was standing. He looked like a little lost puppy. But she wasn't going to let him fool around with her again.

     Patch only grabbed her violin before leaving.

     She didn't stop when Minna whispered her name. She didn't even turn around.

     Not when she heard him get up. Not when he first swared at himself. Not when he started cussing like a sailor. Not when he started punching a nearby tree. Not when he began to bleed.

     No... By that time, Patch was long gone.

     Patch was walking, fast paced, down the street, blinded by the tears that fell unwillingly. She was numbed by the feeling in the pit of her stomach. What was it? Where did it come from? Why didn't it just go away? Who had the answers?

     Apparently, the bakery.

     Patch found herself, hungry, tired, and sad, in front of the same bakery she had bought the strawberry cake on that first day. She had her violin and her case, all in good shape, so she had all of her money from that day. It was about sixty dollars. She bought herself a slice of Deluxe Utopia.

     Whatever that was, it sounded good.

     "Nice choice." Said the college aged looking guy from behind the counter. "It goes well with the Earl Grey Sweet Milk Tea." Patch grabbed a wad of money from her violin case.

     "Really? Then I'll take that too. Cold, please." She paid absentmindedly.

     "Excuse me, miss? You overpaid forty three dollars." The man informed.

     "Er, just keep it." Patch said. It wasn't like she needed it. Besides, it might make the guy's day. So she looked back at him. But he didn't seem happy. On contrare, he seemed reluctant to take it.

     "I can't." He spoke simply. "This is too much."

     "Think of it as a tip." Patch encouraged. The man sighed and prepared to put it in the jar.

     "You might have to explain it to your parents, but don't blame me if that happens." He explained.

     "I doubt it," Patch's jaw tightened slightly. "I made it myself."

     "Counterfeit?" The guy cautiously looked at it. Patch found herself lightly laughing.

     "What? No, I meant I earned it. I'm that girl that's been playing in the courtyard during afternoons. I earned it." Patch laughed again. The guy joined her.

     "That's a relief." He said after a moment.

     Patch looked up at him. "That you're getting tipped for real?"