Freedom Ignited

7; live a little

Friday came sooner than expected. After telling Adrian what fucked up my back, we hadn't talked much. Or, more like I hadn't given him a chance to. For two days all I'd done was work and study, I felt more like Adrian than myself at this point. It would be worth it though, to finally be done with high school, be a real adult.

I had the opening shift before the boys came to pick me up. A full seven hours before I could escape this place.

I think that's what made the least amount of sense to me; wanting to leave. Over the past 28 or so months all I've wanted to do is go home, and now that I'm here, I can't imagine staying for much longer. Maybe the place has changed too much, maybe I've changed. I don't feel different unless I'm around my family, sitting in the living room with them or just eating dinner, I feel like I'm an alien in my house.

The store is quiet, like most mornings, just the few college students studying in the lounge while I sort through the new shipment of vinyls that got dropped off before I could even step in the damn door.

It's peaceful like this, the hum of classic rock projecting through the record players' speaker, coffee brewing quietly into the glass pot. Silence is good, because even though I'm alone with my thoughts, I'm alone. Maybe that's what made me so grumpy all of the time, the constant need for quiet that never got fulfilled because of who lived in the house.

Whether it was Cali turning up the music on her speakers in the driveway or Ma talking admittedly on the phone to one of her many friends, or even Adrian constantly tapping his pen as he studied, there wasn't ever a moment of peace.

As I organized the delicately wrapped circles my thoughts began to fade as they usually did. Rather than focusing on the pain of being here, away from the boys, I thought of Oz and what I'd say to him. It was a rule between the four of us that we never spoke about what we did to get thrown into a cell, but Oz was different. I'm pretty positive I'm the only one who actually knows what happened, that's how little he talked about it.

And while he's outgoing and extroverted like Sinner, the real things, the things that make him sleep with one eye open at night, those things are never spoken about. Not in the crappy fluorescent lighting in Juvie at least. But like Oz, all of us have our secrets, and we give him the space he needs, covering up our curiosity with meaningless humor and poker games with cigarettes in the pot.

I move through the next couple of hours smoothly, studying the textbook that's been clung to my side for the past week like it's the Bible. Customers are sparse, most of the college crowd gearing up for the parties bound to happen on a Friday night. Less than an hour before my shift ends, I notice Ivy bouncing through the doors.

I swear she's way too happy, it's not natural.

"Iggy," She smiles brightly when she reaches the register I'm propped behind, my pencil tapping impatiently on the multiple choice questions printed on the page.

"How can I help you?" I barely glance up, hoping once again that my harsh tone will scare her off and leave me in my own solitude.

"There's a party tonight," She says, completely unaffected by my words. It was like the flashing red sign in her head didn't mean anything.

"Very interesting," I deadpan, putting my pencil down.

She smiles when my eyes meet hers, "I was wondering if you would come?" The words come out rushed, like she was nervous to ask me. Nervous I would say no. Maybe nervous I would say yes.

The corner of my lip twitches in amusement nonetheless, "Ivy, are you asking me on a date?" I fold my arms over the counter, leaning close enough to smell strawberries again.