Rule #40:Â No Flashbacks
Never Think about the Past
- () -
At first, I wander around the neighborhood, my heels clacking against the concrete. But I make sure to avoid my own house. Considering all the missed calls and texts I have from not just my own family, but my cousins and aunts as well, it's safe to say that it's a complete mess. I click one of the voicemails from my mother.
"Peyton, if you're not home in the next ten minutes, I swear to god I will come out there and get you myself -"
I delete the voicemail and turn off the phone. The screen fares goodbye to me before turning black. A sound of annoyance comes from behind my throat. I inhale the night air, letting the chill settle in my body until steam no longer comes out of my ears.
I sit on the curb in front of a house I've never seen before.
Is it wrong to hate my family so much? I ponder, staring up at the sky. The moon is full, but clouds cover the sky, so the only presence it shows is a faint silver glow. Why am I the only one who seems to be the outcast? Why is it always me that gets yelled at? That storms out of the house?
I exhale.
An hour has passed. But I still don't want to go home.
So I settle for the finished treehouse in Archer's backyard. His family laughs over a board game from the front porch. None of them notice me as I climb up the rope ladder. It shivers in the wind. I sit on the edge of the treehouse, dangling my legs off the edge.
Black and blue waves crash against the shore. My fingers are turning numb. I sneeze.
"Meow."
I turn around.
Lucky sits at the corner of my treehouse. Her eyes are hooded, as if she just woke up from a very long nap. I wait for her to leave, jump out to whatever branch she came from.
She doesn't.
Instead, she walks towards me until we're directly sitting next to each other.
"So, you finally show up, huh?" I say."You haven't come back to get food in a while. Well, I guess that's for the best. What if my grandmother had met you? She has a gun, you know."
I open one eye to look at her.
Lucky stares directly ahead. The only answer I get is a simple of the tail.
"You probably already knew that, didn't you? That's why you didn't come."
She looks at me then. Her eyes are different than before, deeper, as if I'm staring into an abyss. I've always believed that animals are smarter than humans let on. Right now, I feel like she's wiser than my family put together.
Unable to help myself, I stroke her hair.
This time, she doesn't flinch or go away. Instead, she just closes her eyes and relaxes at my touch. Her fur is different than the other ones in the shelter, more wild and oily. I wish I could give her a bath.
We stay there for another hour.
Eventually, sometime in the middle, I begin to doze off. When a noise startles me awake, Lucky's gone. I sneeze. The wind's too cold so I move to the back corner, huddle up and close my eyes.
The next time I wake up, there's presence on my right shoulder.
It's Archer.
He's fast asleep and snoring. And that's not all. From the looks of my arm, he's drawn some animals on my arm. How did I not wake up earlier? Blue ink depicts a picture of kitten merging into a tiger. There's a blanket over us too, with a picture of Toy Story on the front. I spot a picnic basket filled with nothing but brownies in the corner.
I roll my eyes, then go back to sleep.
- () -
summer before sophomore year
"You should call her."
I look through the stacks of pink and white, trying my best to ignore my mother. I used to love shopping but none of the clothes appeal to me anymore. The colors flash too bright, grab too much attention.
"Peyton, are you listening to me?"
"Yeah."
"So, are you going to call her?"
I drop the transparent shirt and move onto the next isle. Tight shorts and ripped jeans cover the shelves, but they're too revealing. I hate showing skin. Why isn't there is something comfortable for once?
"Call who?"
"Gwen, of course. You guys were best friends last year - I don't know what happened - "
"She stabbed me in the back, that's what happened."
Laughter comes from behind us. For a second, I'm worried somebody overhead us. But no. It's just a group of teenagers. They enter the store with coffee cups, scarves and jean shorts. I look away and hide behind a clearance section.
Mom sniffs. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding - don't roll your eyes, Peyton, you know how I hate when you do that! - just call her and see if you can clear things up. I understand that things are tight now with you and Xavier."
I snort.
"I like this one," I pick up a black leather jacket and show it to my mom.
"I thought you became a vegetarian."
"It's fake."
Mom scrunches up her nose. "Anything that cheap can't be good quality. Put it away." Â She walks away to look at some shorts.
Ignoring my mother, I pull my arms through the sleeves of the leather jacket. In the mirror, it doesn't look half-bad. Black actually looks pretty good on me. I run my fingers through my blond strands, wondering how it would look if I dyed it.
Mom's squeal makes me turn around.
"Oh my gosh - speaking of Gwen- look, there she is! Gwen!" Mom calls. I spin around but before I can stop her, she's already waving Gwen over.
My heart sinks when I spot the familiar figure walking over to us.
Actually, she doesn't look that familiar at all. With her shimmering light blue top, black skirt, boots and collar, she looks more like past-me than her usual nerdy self. The promise ring that Xavier gave to me on my birthday is now on her finger.
I clench my fists.
"Hi, Mrs. Monroe," Gwen chirps. "It's been so long since we seen each other."
"No kidding. Peyton's been a recluse ever since you two had that fight last year. She's hasn't gone out once."
"Is that so?"
Even though I'm staring at my sandals, I tell Gwen's smirking.
Mom giggles. "How about you two meet up some time, clear up some misunderstandings? I'm sure you must have missed each other so much."
"Actually, I can't."
"Oh," My mom's smile wavers. "May I ask why not?"
"Well, considering that Peyton's," Here, Gwen lowers her tone to pretend like she's trying to be inconspicuous, but by the smirk on her face I can tell she's enjoying herself. "Peyton's pictures are still all over social media, my mother thinks it's best if I distance myself from negative influences for a bit."
"All the better," I snap. "I try not to make a habit of hanging with cow either."
"Peyton!" Mom scolds. Gwen's smirk grows.
"I'm going to the cash register to buy this thing," I say, zipping up the leather jacket. "Meet you there."
- () -
When I wake up again, it's sunrise.
I blink warily. The dream I had and the events from last night combine to make a sick feeling in my stomach. Why did I have to remember that now? I thought I had finally gotten over Xavier and Gwen.
Even though the memory is a bad one, I feel a strange sense of pride at my old self. That was the first time I openly defied my mother.
A breeze washes over our feet. I realize that Archer's still asleep against me, his head nuzzled in my shoulder. There's a smile on his face. My cheeks feel warm, but in a good way. For a few seconds, I consider letting him sleep, but then think better of it and slap his face with my free hand.
Archer rustles - "five more minutes" - and nuzzles his cold nose against my neck before attempting to fall asleep again.
It tickles.
Involuntarily, a laugh bursts out of me. "S-stop. Get off me!"
I push his head off my shoulder. Archer tumbles to the floor, but I catch him by the shirt before he hits the ground and tug him back up to a seating position. The sketchpad he was doodling on earlier falls out of his lap. I glance at the picture - it's sketch of me drooling on his shoulder - and lightly punch his shoulder.
"What are you doing here?" I say, arranging my hair so it doesn't look a mess.
"Your family nearly blew up my phone last night, demanding if you were at my house, or if I'd seen you," He brushes his hair back and raises an eyebrow at me. "I hear you got in a fight with your grandmother."
"Yeah," I straighten, remembering. "I told her she should die like the animals she always complains about."
"Of course you did."
"Somebody had to." Then, I realize what he just said and narrow my eyes. "Hang on, did Bettie tell you that I had a fight with my grandmother?"
"Yeah. So did Melody and James, but their tones were a bit more approving."
I ponder this for a moment, picking at a loose thread from Archer's blue blanket. "So, when you found me, why didn't you call anybody?"
"I was, but I wanted to wake you up first and when I went to wake you up, I accidentally fell asleep."
"And then a blanket magically appeared on top of us?"
"Obviously."
I glare at him. He grins back at me.
With a roll of my eyes, I push myself up to a standing position. My crumpled up dress falls around me in layers. "Well, you might as well call Bettie now. That way she can do what she does best - making me look bad so she looks good."
Archer squints at me. There's sun in his hair, making it look like spun gold. My breath catches in my throat and I lean against the opposite wall, resting my back on the cool wood.
"Don't say that." Archer mummers after a second.
"Say what?"
"Bettie's nice."
I push myself off the wall and kneel in front of him, trying to meet his eyes. He seems perfectly serious so I scoff, "Bettie? Nice? That girl uses mental disorders as adjectives."
"Since when?"
"Plenty of times," I raise my voice to make it high and sugary, just like Bettie's. Then, twirling a strand of my pink hair around my finger, I squeak, "Yesterday, I organized my books alphabetically even I didn't need to. I am so OCD."
"That was -"
"Man, Peyton was smiling earlier today, but now she's frowning. Since when was she so bipolar?"
"You never smile-"
"I'm so depressed that I got a B+ on my test instead of an A."
"Alright, that one is true-"
"I'm feeling a little anorexic today; I think might skip lunch." I continue, on a roll. But when I glance at Archer, he doesn't seem annoyed. Instead, he's smiling. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," He says. "It's just that this the first time I've heard you make a joke."
I scowl. "I'm not making a joke. I'm making fun of somebody. It's supposed to be insulting."
"Insult me."
I gawk at him."You're ugly."
"No, I'm not," He leans forwards and pinches my noise. "Try again."
I jerk away, cheeks flaming. "You're a poor judge of character."
"I'm your friend."
"Exactly."
He snorts. I'm about to reply when I burst into a fit of coughs. I crouch on my side so I don't accidentally cough on Archer, but he comes near me anyways, and drapes the blanket the Toy Story over my shoulder.
"It's time for you to go home."
"I don't want to go home," I whine, but allow him to wrap me up like a burrito. "Why can't talk about something like - like how you're always drawing pictures of me?"
I nod to the sketch of me sleeping.
"You said not to take pictures of you, so I just draw you instead. Is that a problem?"
"No." I mutter. And then, a lower voice. "Thanks."
I'm a little touched he listened. People tend to think I don't like taking pictures because I don't look good in them, but in reality, it's because people who take pictures of me tend to do awful things with images.
"Draw pictures of Bettie instead," I say, trying to get up. It's a struggle when your arms are trapped under a blanket. "She's prettier."
"Bettie's pretty," Archer agrees, pushing me towards the rope ladder. "But you're still the cutest."
"I am not cute."
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Wow, wasn't that a fast update? :D I'm feeling inspired. Next chapter: Thanksgiving Break finally ends. We get more clues about Peyton's past.
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Heeere's Crackers! Thanks to HalfDevilHalfAngel, JamieeToby and LesliiieehdZz for voting/commenting on my chapters! This dedication goes to all three of you! I need to figure out how to actually depict my chapters to people.
Thanks for reading!
QotC: Favorite/least favorite charterer of Archer's family (besides Archer)? The pets count.