[Chapter 6: A Turn for the Worst]

     I can't sleep. I probably should be sleeping... But this whole thing between Tate and Jaeger is burning in my mind. And that voice, you know, the one telling me something bad is going to happen, won't shut up.

     I sit up slowly, muscles aching, and barely miss the top bunk with my head. A sigh exits my mouth, and I swing my legs over the bed before dropping my head into my hands. The pain all over my body have diminished to an ache from earlier today.

     The alarm clock on my bedside table is pink now, the emotion on it looking bubbly. Oh how I wish that is how I am feeling. Sadly, it isn't. The time is 4:38 A.M.

     "Rue, you're an idiot," I mutter to myself as I stand up and grab my military boots, tugging them on. Taking the time to lace them up, I still don't exactly know where I'm going.

     A navy blue jacket catches my eye as I make my way to my bedroom door, so I snatch it and shrug it on. Hey, it's probably cold out. I mean it's almost five in the morning.

     Quietly opening the heavy apartment door, I glance behind me, making sure nobody was awake. Should I be leaving? Where am I going? Is this... Smart?

     Cool wind greets my face as I step out of the apartment building door, blowing my hair into my face. I tuck stray strands of hair behind my ear and sigh before stepping out into the night.

     The sky is a smokey blue, yet still pretty dark. Morning birds like robins and doves coo and chirp, almost begging for the sun to come up. Heck, I almost start calling out to welcome the sun, too. I don't really want to walk around without any light... The streetlights are still on, but still. Alley's are just as dark as midnight.

     Go back inside.

     No. I'll do whatever I want.

     Trouble's bound to happen.

     Then let it be. Don't play God.
 
     Oh, you have no idea.

    What? The voice inside my head is playing God now? Or is that my conscious? Aren't people's conscious supposed to do that? Am I just insane? I'll stick with the last one.

     Leaves crunch under my combat boots as I walk down the sidewalk to the park a few blocks away from my apartment building. I pass old benches next to the gazebo on the library grounds, the plaques on them symbolizing tiny memorials for dead people I've never met.

     After passing two yellow houses, one blue with red shutters, and a pale green one, I walk into the park. Chains from the swings lightly clatter against each other, giving the park a creepy quality. Especially when a breeze disturbs all the autumn leaves in the area, making them swirl around.

     People's voices blow over to me in the wind.

     "No! Pass it!"

     A gruff laughter explodes through the park. Others join with it.

     "Warren! No! Stop! Give it back!"

     My ears perk up, and I quietly creep up next to the picnic shelter. As soon as I turn around the shelter corner into it, the smell of marijuana makes my nose wrinkle.

     Warren T. Lincoln sits atop a shabby counter top, a pop bottle pressed to his lips. Someone lights the top with a mini lighter, while Warren sucks the smoke from the side of the bottle. The person lighting pulls the lighter away and turns to me, while Warren sucks in air and holds it.

     Two other guys join the first, turning to look at me. They all start laughing and sit back in their camping chairs.

     "Whoa! Rue?" Warren exhales smoke out of his nose and coughs. "What are you doing here?"

     "I--"

     A guy opening a bag of Doritos cuts me off, and I can't help but shake my head.

     "Man!" The guy to the far left exclaims. "I got the munchies real bad. Pass that other bag."

     "Warren," I say, ignoring the other guys. "What are you doing here?"

     "What does it look like, sweetheart? He's chillin' out," informs a guy with jet black hair. He stuffs three Doritos into his mouth.

     All the guys join in laughter.

     "C'mon Rue, take a hit."

     "No," I start backing up.

     "Please? You'll relax," Warren hops off, well falls off, the counter and slowly walks towards me. He reaches out a hand towards me.

     "No, Warren. Shut up. I'm not doing drugs," I push his hand away, but he suddenly hugs me and then pulls away.

     He only shrugs and scratches his head, sobering up just a bit, "What are you doing here?"

     The three other guys burst into laughter again, throwing Doritos and squirting each other with squirt guns.

     "Couldn't sleep," I shrug.

     "Go home," he turns around.

     What? How did he just go from high to low? And so fast?

     He goes back to laughing with the guys, slapping high fives with the jet black haired boy. He falls over onto him and rolls onto the floor, giggling and coughing.

     "Dude! You have ashes all over your shirt!"

     They all holler in laughter.

     I walk away, confused and.. Well, I don't know what to call it. Disappointed, probably. I could never imagine Warren doing drugs. Maybe he does more than smoke weed. I just don't want to be around to find out.



     "Rue, wake up."

     I roll over--and fall off the couch. A groan is my first response after hitting the floor. I use my elbows to prop myself up, and I look right up into Tate's eyes.

     He's kneeling beside me, a hand on my arm. His brown eyes show something distant, and his face is blank.

     "Go take a shower," he states.

     "What, do I look dirty?" I push myself all the way up to a standing position.

     "Frankly," Tate joins me. "Yes. And you smell like weed."

     I look away, "I caught a friend smoking weed this morning. I didn't try it, I promise."

     "Really? I found a baggie of it in your jacket," his hand holds a Ziploc baggie with a thin line of marijuana at the bottom.

     "WHAT? I didn't take any! I swear to God, Tate!" I throw my arms in the air, almost to tears already.

     Suddenly he's in my face, burning mad. Then he starts yelling, "Well obviously you did, Rue! I found it in your jacket! Stop lying!"

     Tears stream down my face, but I keep trying. "Tate! I swear that's not mine! I don't do any of that, you know I don't!"

     "God dammit, Rue! You're lying and I have proof right in front of me!" He throws the baggie to the floor, literally getting into my face. "What, you just ran off in the middle of the night to get stoned?"

     "No! Tate, I promise I only left because I couldn't sleep! I-I found Warren at the park with his buddies and-and he offered but I refused! Warren, he-he-he hugged me, and he must have slipped that into my pocket!"

     He just stares at me, face red from yelling.

     I quickly grab the baggie from the floor and open it. The smell doesn't even resemble weed. It smells like freshly cut grass--shredded grass and crab grass, pepper, and basil.

     "This isn't even weed, jerk," I shove it into his chest and stomp off to my room.



    "Rue! Open the door!"

     Tate's pounds keep coming from the other side of the door, but I ignore them and pull my combat boots back on. I ditch the jacket from last night and grab a heavier one, not knowing how late I'll be gone. Just long enough to build up courage to face Tate tomorrow. Or tonight. I won't leave him alone with Olivia for more than a day.

     Speaking of Olivia, she's at preschool and will be going to the babysitter's in about three hours. Tate has to leave no later than 10:30 to go to work. I don't even think he's gotten ready yet, and it's 10 o'clock sharp.

     "Anastasia Rue Amber, open this door!" He shouts.

     Fed up, I swing the door open, "What?"

     He looks at my boots and jacket and drawstring bag, "Where are you going?"

     I push past him, "Does it matter? If I told you, you wouldn't believe me anyway, considering you don't trust me."

     "I never said that." He trails me to the living room until he pulls me to a stop in front of the door.

     "Your accusations did," I spit.

     "Rue..."

     "What Tate?"

     He doesn't say anything, so I swing the door open and walk out.

     Right into Jaeger's chest.

     I step back instantly, eyes wide. "Jaeger?"

     He steps to me, hands at my forearms, "Rue. Wait, where are you going?"

     I look away before turning my whole head away. The need to get away from the apartment door is itching at me, and soon I'm running up the stairs and out of the apartment building. I get to the middle of the sidewalk before I'm yanked to a stop.

     "Stop," Jaeger demands while I try to tug away from him. "Stoppit, Rue!"

     I quit, staring dead into his eyes.

     "Where are you going?" His voice is low.

     "Away from here," I yank my arm away from him.

     "Why?"

     "Tate..."

     "What about him?" His eyes are dark, glancing from the apartment windows to me. "What did he do?"

     I shake my head and laugh sheepishly, "He found a baggie of 'weed' in my jacket pocket." I put air-quotes around "weed."

     Sadly, I don't think he caught the air-quotes.

     "What? Weed?" He throws his arms in the air, "Rue! You--"

     "Don't do drugs," I finish. "It wasn't the real deal. Only things put together to look like it."

     Jaeger sighs, "Oh. Then why are you leaving?"

     My head shakes again, "He doesn't trust me anymore."

     "I don't trust him, either," he snorts.

     "I said he doesn't trust me."

     "That's--"

     "I'm not going back in there right now."

     Jaeger runs his hand through his hair, which looks like it's gotten lighter. "Where are you going, then?"

     "Anywhere but here," I shrug.

     "School?"

     School. High school. With over 5,000 students. One of them happening to be Warren, and three of them the guys from the park.

     I shake my head brusquely and shove my hands in my coat pockets, walking quickly down the sidewalk. The sun is pale, sky cloudy. What happened to yesterday's weather? It was so nice out yesterday.

     Jaeger quickly falls into stride with me, "Hello? School? The thing you started on Monday and doesn't end til Friday?"

     I hesitate to answer, but shake my head and keep walking.

     "What happened last night?"

     That makes me stop. I stare at the sidewalk and mumble, "How good of friends are you with Warren?"

     "What does he have to do with last night?" He asks slowly.

     "I caught him smoking weed last night."

     Jaeger's silent, so words rush out of my mouth.

     "He hugged me, and I'm definitely sure that he put the fake weed into my pocket. He framed me, got me in trouble with Tate. Why would he do that? Did he know Tate would blow up? Does he even know about Tate? What the hell is going on?"

     "I don't know," Jaeger murmurs. "But I'm going to find out."


     We don't go to school. Instead, we drive out in the middle of nowhere to a park I found out about when I lived at the orphanage. Or would "Taken hostage" sound more appropriate for the situation?

     The clouds have mostly cleared the sky, but the sun is still pale. Kind of a weird contrast, out here in a grass field with a creepy playground. The sun is a lifeless yellow, while the sky is bright blue with gray clouds, the long grass yellow and dying.

     The only remotely romantic things about this are the lilies and daisies growing everywhere, and the two-person metal swing set.

     Jaeger and I sit on the swings, quiet and gently swaying, I guess. Both of us think. Well, I don't know if he's thinking, but I am.

     What would life be like at the orphanage if I still lived there? Would I still be stupid enough to get beatings? Would I be able to teach Olivia what not to do? What would life be like if I'd never met Jaeger.

     You would have met him anyway.

     What?

     Meeting him was inevitable..

     Go on...

     That boy did everything he could to get to you.

     Well. Obviously this voice inside my head isn't me. Or maybe it is... Just a delusional, psychotic locked up voice that somehow got out and is terrorizing the population of braincells in my cranium.

     I furrow my eyebrows, earning me a weird look from Jaeger. He didn't know me before Monday. I know he didn't.

     "Jaeger?"

     I fiddle with my knuckles, waiting for him to answer. When I look up from my hands, I find him staring at me.

     "Yes?" He replies, eyes locked with mine.

     A funny feeling takes me over, like I should avoid the question, but I push it away.

     "Have you ever had a... Well, I don't know.. A voice that tells you things in your head?" I grimace at the stupidity of my words.

     His eyes are wide, but he nods. "What is it saying?"

     "It keeps telling me that you knew me before Monday. That you've been looking for me?" I bite my lip, cursing myself in my head for such a poor choice of words.

     Now he surely thinks I'm crazy. Everybody probably thinks I'm crazy by now. I'm even starting to convince myself.

     I look up at Jaeger to see an almost frightened look on his face, but it vanishes within a blink of an eye, and there is no evidence that it was ever there.

     He barks a laugh, "You're insane, Rue." He playfully hits my shoulder.

     "I already know that," I sigh. "I figured it out the moment that voice said something to me."

     Jaeger stops laughing, "When did it start talking to you?"

     "Yesterday."

     Jaeger falls silent, kicking dirt in the rut under his swing. I look up slowly from his sneakers to his jeans, then baby blue v-neck to his face and study it. His jaw clinches, causing the muscles to bulge, which obviously means he isn't happy.

      His hair, tousled and light, is combed into a messy fro-hawk looking thing. I see a glint come from his left ear, and find a gold stud pierced not in the lobe, but smack in the middle of his ear. You know, the almost-bowl-like part of your ear? Yeah, picture a gold stud pierced in that.

     Then I notice the small black tattoo behind his ear.

     The tattoo consists of lines, about three of them vertical, and two horizontal ones cutting through the three. Each line is... Well, closed at the end. Picture a thin wire twisted in so it doesn't catch on anything. The whole tattoo isn't even bigger than a quarter.

     When I look back to his face, his eyes are staring at me, dark and dangerous.

     "Sorry--"

     "Let's go," Jaeger says abruptly, standing up.

     I follow his movements, only slowly and not-so-gracefully. "Where are we going?"

     "My house."

     "But Olivia--"

    "We'll pick her up later," he cuts me off again and stomps back to his car.

     Is it me, or is he one moody teenager?

     Eh, it's probably just me.