Summary: Even happiness can be bitter.

Two weeks had passed since my first hangout at Reed's place. I spend the better part of them at the police station, where Ripley wrings me out like a wet rag. Unpleasant, but thanks to the sweet bitterness of ativan, I manage to hold myself together. Meetings with Rosa and Stella do wonders in helping me not go off the deep end. 

Today is a bit different. Ripley's busy, and so is Glenn. Why? I don't fucking care why. Neither do they care about me apparently. There was no one to to haul my ass to the torture chamber this morning. Splendid. 

I got an email from school. They're finally done relocating students. 

Volcano High will remain closed until further notice. More like until the trial concludes. Not like I give a shit. They want me to go to St.Hammond's, a school which is at the far end of the town. No way in hell I'm doing that. And besides, I've already decided to drop out. 

So I deleted the email and marked the address for spam. The caveman will probably be pissed, but fuck him. He's been a little help to me in any way since I came here. Some fucking principal. Prick. 

Reed's at school today. The first day of school for him since Fang did the unthinkable. He said we'll meet up in the afternoon, which is pretty nice of him. And it'll help him get the edge off, since we will be hanging out with Rosa and Stella today. 

As I lounge in the bed, pondering if I should get up and take a shower, or, at least shave the hobo beard I've been nurturing for the past couple days, my phone buzzes. I check it. A text, from Reed. 

I told them. About the drugs and all that shit.

I sit up. My heart jumps. A pit forms in my stomach, but goes away in a moment. Focus. 

I quickly type out a reply.

When? How did they react? 

I stare at those three dots doing their little dance at the bottom of the screen so hard that it's a miracle the screen hadn't cracked yet. They bounce up and down, up and down. C'mon Reed, talk to me dude. 

Today. - He replies. - In the morning before leaving for school. Dad was fucking pissed. Mom calmed him down tho.

Three dots again. Up and down, up and down. 

Reed's mom is a fucking saint. I hung out around his place for the past few days and she always had a warm smile for her kid and a kind word for me. She clearly wants to make up for prodding me about the shooting. And I appreciate the hell out of it. Not long ago I would have shrugged it off, but now? No fucking way I'd brush her away. 

They will get me a therapist. - He informs me. - And I'm going to rehab after school is over. 

I run my hand down my face. Thank fuck they didn't kick him out. I didn't think they would, but still, it's one hell of a relief. Reed, you lucky son of a gun. 

If they did decide to get rid of him, I would have been more than happy to let him stay here a while. Though, I myself won't be living here for much longer. A month, two, tops. Then it's off to bootcamp, and then, off to fight someplace most people can't point out on a map. 

I shake these thoughts off. My fingers dart around the screen. 

That's great to hear, man. Wyd anyway? Just hanging out in class or what? 

He's typing again. 

Kinda. It's math. I'm done with the assignment, and I ain't gonna ask the teacher for more. 

Oh yeah, even when fucked up on drugs, he was razor sharp when it came to numbers. I can't even imagine how quickly he's crunching them when sober. The guy should be a scientist or something. Maybe I'll tell him that today. 

Tap tap tappity tap, my fingers dance around on the screen. 

You still gonna hang out with me, R and S later, right?

He starts typing after a moment's pause. 

R and S? Really, dude? XD

I can almost hear him laugh to himself at my failed attempt at being cool. Eh. You win some, you lose some. 

I'll hang out, sure. When?

When do you get off school? - I ask. 

In like, three hours. Though dad will want to talk to me first. 

I met his old man too during those few days I hung out with him. Mister Scott Card, a lawyer and a caring father. Really caring. He fucking loves his kids. And his wife. I try to picture him in my mind, being angry at Reed. 

Very pale-yellow raptor, about a head taller than Reed, leaning over the dinner table. Yellow eyes dig into his son, more with worry and disappointment than with anger. He's frowning. His jaw is set, and his tail, hanging loosely from the backrest of his seat, swings rapidly like a pendulum. He shakes his head and lowers it, closing his eyes. 

I swallow. Ugh, that's some image. Usually Reed's dad is a chill guy, if a bit morbid at times. He deals with violent crimes, mostly, so I guess indulging in gallows humor is a much needed coping mechanism. Still, he could cut down on stabbing jokes. 

One such joke comes to mind, a one he told me over lunch. They were having a salad with their meal, for some reason. 

"Hey, Anon, do you know how to make any salad into a caesar salad?" He asked me. 

"No, mister Card." I unsurely shook my head. 

"Stab it twenty three times!" He bursted into a stifled snicker. 

I shudder. Then I remember that Reed is waiting for my text. 

Oh, yeah. You know where Rosa lives?

He replies shortly. 

Yeah, she told me. A farm on the outskirts, right?

Yeah. Meet you there? 

Sure. Ttyl Anon.

Rosa as a farm girl… never would have thought of that. 

Yes, her dad is a big, strong guy, and she doesn't mind manual labor in the open air herself, so I guess that was easy to figure out. Still, it was a bit of a surprise for me. She never struck me as a farm girl, more like a gardener, tending to flowers around the house. I don't think slacks, flannels and cowboy hats would fit her anyway. 

I get off the bed. Man, I'm hungry. Rosa did say she'll make food for us, so I guess I'll have to power through the hunger. That yesterday's pizza in the fridge is quite tempting though.

Conscience, my buddy ol' pal, what do you think? 

Remember what she did the last time you were hungry?

Eh, true. A slice won't hurt. Don't want to pass out from hunger. Rosa would be devastated. And then devastate me. Whether it would be through the amount of food, or through physical violence, I would rather not find out. 

A quick bite, a quick shower and a quick shave later, I'm ready for today. 

 

***

 

The part of town I get off from the bus is dominated by hills. And trees. Lots and lots of trees, giving lots and lots of shadow. Shadow which is a godsend in this sweltering hot weather. 

I check my phone. Rosa sent me some directions earlier. 

As I scroll through the messenger app, my eye lands upon the last text from Fang. 

That stops me dead in my tracks. I just stand there, gripping the phone with my hand hard enough to make the shitty plastic shell creak. 

 

Control over my life you denied

And now death approaches from the sky,

Why'd it be me you had to vilify?

I guess this is Goodbye, Volcano High.

 

In any other situation, I'd find the lyrics incredibly edgy, cringy and laughable. They are. They are emo-tumblr-page levels of trash. But, reading them, again and again, I can feel the dark thoughts resurface. The feeling of guilt and anguish pierce through the numbing lorazepam mist and hit me like a gutpunch. Tears well up in my eyes. I cover my mouth, shivering.

Here I am, going to a fucking dinner party while Fang rots in prison. After she killed people. After I drove her to it. After I and Reed let her the fuck down. 

What am I doing? WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?!? 

I shouldn't be doing this. I need to go back. I can't fucking party while she is- 

Oh god, oh god, oh god- 

I need to leave. I want to leave. I want to go back to Skin Row and curl up in bed. I want to fucking rot there, die alone, alone, ALONE. That's what I deserve. I'm a piece of shit. I don't-

Someone grabs my shoulder. 

"OHJESUS-" I jump, dropping my phone. It lands face up, the fatal text on full display. I bend over to grab it, but an orange hand quicker than mine. 

"Anon, what's?..." Rosa pauses. She must've read the text by accident. She can fucking see what state I'm in. It's not hard to add two and two together. "Dios mío, pobre alma."

There's so much worry and compassion in her voice, that I can't fucking stand it. 

I turn to face her, face pale, jaw set, body rigid. She looks worried. There's so much warmth in those eyes. I don't deserve it. Neither the compassion, nor the warmth, none of these fucking things. 

I turned the girl I love into a monster. I hurt her when she needed me. I crushed her and kicked her when she was down, crying and begging me to stop. No, she's not a monster. I am the monster. I dragged her down to my level so I wouldn't feel alone. 

"Give me the phone." I try to grab it, but she moves her hand away. "Rosa, give me my goddamn-" 

"Everything will be alright, An-on." 

"Alright?" I mutter through clenched teeth. "Fang fucking killed fifteen people. She will rot in prison." I turn away from her and grab my head. "I made her do it, and you tell me that everything will turn out fine?" I scoff. "Are you fucking serious, Rosa?" I bite my finger, not even thinking about what I'm doing. 

Harder. Harder. Harder. 

I pierce the skin. Pain. Sweet, sweet pain. That's what I fucking deserve. Maybe I'll break my leg next.

Rosa notices. She gasps, grabs my shoulder and turns me around. I don't resist, my finger still in my mouth. 

"¿QUÉ DEMONIOS ESTÁS HACIENDO?" She shouts, shaking me. "¿ESTÁS LOCO? ¡CALMATE!" She pulls my finger, bitten through and bleeding, out of my mouth. 

I glare at her. 

"ENGLISH!" I scream in her face. "Speak fucking English you fat, orange beanosaur-" 

Pain explodes in my cheek. Ringing in my ear. My head bounces back. Moments later, after the first shock subsides, intense burning settles in. 

Rosa stands there, her hand still in the air. She's breathing slowly, shakily, deeply. She's staring at me with wild, wide open eyes. Face red, tail stiff like a lamppost. She's shivering. I have never seen her so fucking angry. 

Yes. Hate me. That's what I fucking deserve. 

"Is that all you got?" I growl. "Didn't. Even. Feel. It." I put up the other cheek and point to it. "Bring it, puta ." 

Drop the phone and leave. Drop the phone and leave. Leave me. Go away. Get the fuck away from me. Leave me here. Leave leave leave- 

She grabs me and pulls me into a tight hug, cradling my head against her neck. I try to pull away from her, which only makes her tighten the embrace. 

"Fucking let go of me-" I smack her, fruitlessly attempting to squirm out. "Let go of me! I'll kick your ass if you don't!" 

"No." She whispers, her voice still trembling, but no longer angry. "Pobre, pobre niño confundido…" she starts rocking me back and forth, like she did at the hospital. "Everything will be fine, Anon." 

I want to be angry at her. I want her to be angry at me. I want her to kick my ass, leave me here, drop me as a friend. Friends? What friends? I don't fucking deserve any friends. After what I did? After how I treated my sweet girl? 

But, I can't. Anger is gone. It evaporated, leaving behind its most loyal companions: misery and sadness. They circle inside my head, prodding me, laughing at me, mocking me. I shiver. 

"How can you say that?" I mumble. "F-fang is in prison… and what am I doing?" I chuckle and shake my head. "Going to a party? What kind of boyfriend does that? I put her in-" 

She tightens the embrace more, even if it seems impossible. Pain. My ribs protest. I can almost hear them creak. 

"No, you did no such thing, Anon . " She mutters. "Fang chose their path. You can't keep blaming yourself for what they have done." 

I chuckle bitterly. It's a bit hard, with my ribs being crushed, but I manage. 

"And who pushed her towards that fucking path?" I whisper. "Me. It was me, Rosa." 

She pulls away from me. Her hair had fallen on her face, she flicks her head to the side to get it out of the way. She then looks me in the eyes with a sad smile on her face. 

"Even if you did push them towards it, they decided to take it. It was their decision, Anon." She pauses for a moment. Raptor Jesus, she's gripping me so hard. Like a vice. Or a very strong piece of industrial machinery. "They had a choice not to do it-" 

I scoff, interrupting her. 

"You haven't seen her that night, Rosa. You haven't seen the anger, the sheer fucking rage, you haven't heard her crying while I crushed her." I mumble. I don't feel like crying. I just want to fucking die. 

God, good thing I didn't buy that gun. My brains would be a wall decoration already if I did. 

She stiffens and pulls away from me a bit. She looks me in the eyes. She's shocked. Stupefied.

Oh fuck, I must've mumbled it out. 

"A gun?" She trembles. "Anon, what were you going to do?" 

Someone gasps behind her. I look. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, shit fuck. It's Reed. And Stella. They fucking saw everything. Stella's staring at me, wide-eyed, while Reed just looks at me. Is he disappointed or shocked? I'm not sure. Rosa's hissing brings my attention back to her. 

"Anon, if you say something like that again, I will tie you up until you calm down." 

"Get ready for one hell of a waiting game then." I chuckle grimly.

She looks over her shoulder, at the two observers, as if she's making sure that they're hearing all this. Perfect. 

She's distracted. Now. 

I grab the phone. That surprises her enough for her to loosen her grip on me. I slip away and quickly turn, then start walking, almost jogging away. Hearing someone running after me, I break out into a full-on sprint. 

I almost fall on my ass when someone's hand lands on my shoulder and grips me like a vice. That someone, who's now holding me up so I don't fall, turns out to be Reed. 

"You are not going anywhere, dude." He says into my ear. 

Rosa catches up to me. She's not mad, she's worried. She motions at Reed and he leads me back to the bus stop, where he sits me down on the bench. 

There, Rosa looks my finger over, murmuring so quickly that I can't discern a single word. It is Spanish, that's for sure. 

"Stella, agua." 

Stella, who's been silently observing the events for the whole time, twitches upon hearing her name spoken. She gives Rosa a small bottle of water she's been holding, which the ankylosaur uses to wash my self-inflicted wound. 

"Estúpido niño estúpido, deja de hacerte daño así." She shakes her head at me and narrows her eyes. 

"Let me go home, goddammit." I look at the three. "I'll just ruin the mood." 

"No fucking way we're leaving you alone, dude." Reed shakes his head, his arms crossed. "Not in this state. You're coming with us." 

Rosa nods. Stella speaks up:

"You can't be alone now, Anon, or you'll do something stupid." She says when I try to get my hand free from Rosa's firm grip. 

"Come come." Rosa takes a tissue out of her pocket. "Don't be stupid now, An-on." She wraps my finger up. "Help me, Reed." 

They lift me up. I let them lead me, as I was a child. How can you be so fucking compassionate, Rosa? Especially towards someone like me? Towards Reed, hell yeah, I can see why. But towards me? 

"It doesn't feel right-" 

"Be quiet." Rosa cuts me off. "Do you think Fang would want to see you like this?" She looks at my finger. "Bloody, crying, sad?" She looks at me, hard.

Stella peeks in over my shoulder.

"You need to be strong, Anon. Fang is strong, you can't be weak." She looks at me. 

Strong? Fuck, I wish. 

Stella is right. Fang's a fighter. Don't be a quitter. - my pal, the voice tells me. - She'd call you a pussy if she saw you now. 

Wow, conscience, wow. Harsh. Real fucking harsh. But, you know? You may be right. I can't  break down every five minutes. I'm not a fucking child. I'll need to grow a pair eventually. Better sooner than later. I'm going to enlist after all. 

"Alright." I give a soft sigh. I turn to Rosa. "I'm sorry for calling you a-" 

She shakes her head with a small smile. 

"You were angry. It's fine." 

Reed snickers. 

"You wouldn't believe the shit I say when I'm angry." 

I glance at him. 

"I think I have a pretty good idea." 

He shrugs. 

"You don't." He puts his hands in his pockets and looks up, into the sky with a sad smile. "You really don't." 

We walk in silence until we reach a large, wooden gate, painted red, opening to a dirt road, leading towards a sizable farmstead. A barn, a silo, hell, there's even a storehouse and a stable. A real farm, straight out of a John Wayne movie. 

Well, excluding the avocado orchard in the back. It's fucking huge. Huh. Guacamole for days. 

"What's with avocados?" I ask Rosa. 

"Oh, mi familia has been cultivating those for generations." She smirks at me. " Bisabuelo had a whole plantation back in the old country." 

"Bisabuelo?"

"Great-grandfather." She explains. "My grandpa moved here before my dad was born." She looks over at the orchard. "Avocados are a great business, you know."

I frown. 

"Really?" 

"You wouldn't believe it." She snickers, seeing how doubtful I look. "Look over there." 

I glance over where she's pointing. I see three cars, parked on a patch of gravel. A large pickup truck, an euro sports car and a large, oriental looking minivan. All three brand new.  

"All imports." Rosa explains. "You can't buy those trims here." 

I gawk a little. Man, my friends are swimming in cash, while I'm a penniless loser. I glance at Stella. She glances back at me. 

"What?" She tilts her head. "You think I'm rich too? Ha!" She giggles. "My mom works in, uh…" she pauses. "Security. She's a security guard." 

A security guard? 

"And your dad?" 

She shrugs. 

"He left mom before I was born." 

That explains a lot. 

I bite my tongue. Don't say fatherless behavior.

We enter the farm proper. The familiar ankylosaurus, Rosa's father, greets me with a nod of his head. He's carrying two crates full of avocados towards the storehouse I noticed earlier. Man, each of those crates must weigh at least fifty pounds. Behind him, two boys, slightly younger than Rosa - her siblings I assume - follow with similar burdens. 

I reciprocate the man's gesture as we approach him. He stops. The boys stop, swaying slightly under the weights of their burdens. They stare at me, openly and quite rudely. Not everyday you see a skinnie in these parts, huh. 

"Papá, éste es Anon, ya le conoces." Rosa points to me. "¡Deja de mirar, Moises, Felipe!" She frowns at who I assume are her brothers. 

They respond with all manner of mocking grimaces. The older one even attempts to flip her off, nearly dropping his crate in the process. His father's head swivels around, and now he's glaring at his son over his shoulder.

"Felipe, ¡ten cuidado!" He shouts. 

Felipe cowers slightly and mutters something. Moses - quite a name by the way - chuckles behind his back. The head of the house grumbles angrily and turns back to me, his face still kind of tense. 

"Simón." He nods. "Nice to meet you, Anon. Rosa has been saying good things about you." 

I blush a little. Good things? What good things?

Stop berating yourself up so damn much. - the voice says. - Take the compliment.

Fuck, right. Thanks, conscience. 

"Really?" I rub the back of my head with my healthy hand. "I'm glad to hear it, sir." 

He nods once more and excuses himself. The little procession of produce continues its trek towards the storage room. We meanwhile head towards the house, from within which I can already hear the loud sounds of something that sounds like Mexican music and rock. I think it's called banda. Or something. 

I can also hear a woman scolding someone in Spanish, very harshly at that. The sounds of the argument quickly increase in both loudness and intensity. The shouting match stops as suddenly as it started, leaving behind only the sound of music.

Rosa doesn't seem to care about it all that much, so I don't comment on it. 

There are more kids milling around the yard, boys and girls. None older than Rosa, the oldest being about a year younger than her. They wave at Stella and Reed and stare at me, as if I was a museum exhibit come to life. Rosa notices that very quickly. 

All it takes is for the company to scatter, like a pack of cats is a very serious frown. Huh. She must have quite the authority around here. 

After this little show of iron hand rule, she turns to us. Within the time it took her to do that, she's back to being all kindness and smiles. 

"Now, we have a table set up, so just go and get comfortable." Rosa tells us. "I'll be back in a few!" She goes into the house. 

Me, Reed and Stella head over to a large picnic table, sitting under a shade of an absolutely enormous tree. It's all set, plates, glasses, bottles and all. We sit. I put my elbows on the tabletop and glare at my finger. 

"What got you so…" 

I turn to Stella. She's looking at me very intently. 

"So agitated?" 

I look at the phone. I've been holding onto it the whole way here. The screen's blank now, but I am more than aware of what's just a couple taps away. 

"Fang sent me a text. Before…" I pause then sigh slowly. "Before that happened. A song verse." I rub the bridge of my nose. 

She grabs the tip of her snout. Reed gives me a prolonged look. He nods at the phone. 

"Can I see it?" 

I frown. 

"Why the fuck-" 

"Trish received different lyrics than me." He gently cuts me off. "I want to see what you got." 

"What, you want to perform this song or something?" I scoff. "Maybe they'll let you set up a scene in the prison yard for the purpose." 

Reed narrows his eyes. Fuck it, fine. You want to pick at this wound, please, be my fucking guest. I'm taking no responsibility for it. 

I unlock the phone and give it to him. He takes it, looks at the screen for a moment, then starts fiddling with it. 

"Hey, what are you-" 

"Aaand gone." He gives it back to me. 

I look at the screen. No sign of the verse. The last message from Fang is the one where she asked me to pick her up from her home before the prom.  

"What the fuck, dude?" I glare at him. 

"Constantly reliving this shit will neither change anything, nor will it help you move on." He replies. 

"I'm a fucking adult and-" 

"And you need to understand that wallowing in misery will not help you." He interrupts me. 

Stella moves in her seat. She turns to me.

"Reed is right, Anon." She quietly says. "You can't keep turning all this in your head. It will drive you crazy." 

I snort like a horse and throw the phone onto the table. It bounces and lands on one of the plates.

"So what, you're saying that we should move on?" I look at both. "Just, forget about Fang-" 

Reed puts his hand on my shoulder with a deep sigh. He looks me in the eyes for a moment, then shakes his head, briefly works his mouth and finally, speaks up. 

"That's exactly not what we mean." He says. "We're not saying that you should erase Fang from your memory. We're saying that you should concentrate on the good memories, not the bad ones." 

I shake him off. 

"Easier said than done." 

"Then fucking try." He glares at me. "Don't give the fuck up, dude. Remember what you told me when we hung out?" 

I sit upright. Then look at him. 

"We're all in this together. We will get through this shit." He pats my back. 

Stella reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. 

"You're not alone, Anon." She smiles softly. 

What is this warmth I'm feeling? 

"You better not be mopey over there!" 

I look over my shoulder. Rosa is leaning out of the ground floor window, looking at us. At me in particular. Fuck, she must've noticed that I'm slouching. I give her a thumbs up. 

"We're good, Rosa!" I call out. 

"¡Más te vale, muchacho!" She shakes her fist at me with a motherly smile. "Food will be ready soon!  

My stomach growls like the angriest of dragons. That pizza slice is nothing but a faded memory. Fuck, just thinking about her cooking makes my head light from hunger. 

"I hope you won't feed us tofu or something!" I shout back to her, ignoring Stella's giggling. 

She scowls, frowns, shakes her fist at me again and disappears inside the house. 

We soon hear her yelling something in Spanish, to which she gets a reply in the same manner, from a much older woman. She sounds way too old to be her mom. They are loud, very damn loud but there's no hostility, hell, from the tone of their voices, it's more of a banter than anything.  

"They do like shouting a lot." I pick up my phone and stuff it into my pocket. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rosa's siblings, four in number, starting to mill about not far from where we're sitting. They're looking and pointing at me. As well as talking amongst themselves. 

Yep. A skinnie. A real, living, breathing skinnie. Feast your eyes children, the opportunity of a lifetime. Only a dime to see the skinnie, step right up, step right up!

I turn to them and give them a slow wave of my arm. That makes the group freeze, excluding two of the oldest ones, who reciprocate the wave. I chuckle and give them a wide, shit eating grin. 

"Don't make a show out of yourself, Anon." Stella's looks at me disapprovingly. 

"What's wrong with a bit of gusto?" Reed snickers. 

Stella turns up her snout, the tip of her tail wagging rapidly. 

 I shrug, grab one of the jugs set on the table and pour myself up some lemonade. Stella brings a glass up, so I pour her up some too. I glance at Reed, but he's busy staring at the table with the weirdest look on his face. It's a mixture of a smile and an awkward grimace. 

"You know…" he chuckles. "I never noticed it when I was, y'know, up on cloud nine…" 

I turn to him, sipping my sugary lemon juice,  and so does Stella. What is he talking about now?

"But Rosa is…" he rubs the back of his head. "She's really pretty, you know?" He chuckles, slightly embarrassed. 

I inhale sharply. Bad move, little man. Now you're drowning in lemon juice, water and sugar. 

"Oh no, Anon!"

What a shame. 

I gag, trying to get the sour water out of my lungs. 

"Here's something we can do." 

You were a good man.

My eyes tear up. My tongue is hanging out.  

What a rotten way to die. 

I start hacking and coughing, smacking my chest, while Reed smacks my back. It takes me a minute to get a hold on myself. After I finally do, I whip my face towards Reed.

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" 

"That Rosa is pretty?" He shrugs. "You have to be fucking blind not to see it." 

Man, I don't think I will ever get used to him swearing.

"Well, you do have a point." I set the glass down. Better avoid choking hazards for now. "She has pretty eyes." 

He nods enthusiastically. 

"Right?" He chuckles again, less awkwardly this time. "And her hair, and her face, man." He shakes his head. "And I used to think Trish was pretty? Ha!"  

"Stop, you're making me blush, Reed." 

Reed jumps in his seat and swivels around, nearly knocking me off with his legs. I lean away, barely avoiding having my ribs smashed in, and bumping Stella in the process. She squeaks. I look at her. I made her spill her drink on her shirt. 

"Oh shit, sorry!" I look around the table and quickly locate a paper towel roll. I grab it. "Let me just-" 

She swipes the towel out of my hand with an intense blush coloring her cheeks. 

"I… I'll do it myself." She mutters, turning away. She starts drying herself, and grumbling under her breath, tossing me some embarrassed looks over her shoulder. 

"You better not try to cop a feel, chico! " 

I cower, beet red. 

"That wasn't my intention!" I blurt out. 

Reed chuckles. I look at him. He's looking at Rosa. There's a kind of… dreaminess in his eyes, and a slight blush on his cheeks. Wow. He's head over heels for her. Holy shit. 

She turns to him, and gives him a big, warm smile, which makes him turn around and chuckle again, with his hand rubbing the back of his head so intensely, that it's a miracle he doesn't scrape his scales off. 

"Wait a moment, I'll need help with bringing the food." She says. She notices her siblings. They got closer to the table while we chatted. "R-" 

"Yes, yes, gladly!" Reed jolts upward. 

Raptor Jesus on a bicycle. We lost him. 

"Not you, Reed!" She shakes her head with a loud, warm laugh. Seeing him slump slightly, and blushing at the same time, she pats his back. "Okay, okay, you and Raul can help me. Raúl! " She shouts towards the little congregation. 

The oldest of the group - a kid about eighteen, with scales a shade darker than Rosa, of a firm posture - groans and trudges towards us. Rosa shakes her head as he approaches. Me and Stella exchange glances. 

"Aren't they cute?" She mutters, eyeing Reed and Rosa. 

I respond with a fake gag. She swats my arm, while Reed goes away with Rosa and her brother, who has the look of utmost misery on his face. I wonder why. Maybe Rosa playfully nudging him on the arm has something to do with it. 

I watch them over my shoulder. Reed's grinning, Rosa's laughing. They start talking and don't stop until they enter the house. They soon emerge, Rosa is carrying a large pot with her brother, while Reed carries a larger platter, filled with bowls. The wind shifts. I sniff. The enticing smells of Mexican cuisine fill my nose. Oh fuck yeah. That's what I need. 

Stella's done drying herself. She gives me a mean glare and sticks her tongue out at me. 

"I hope you're hungry!" Rosa sets the pot on the table. "¿Estás esperando una fanfarria?" She shouts to her siblings. 

The ankylo kids start piling up around the table. Soon, most of the seats are taken.

"I could eat a bowl of rocks." I stare at the steam, greedily taking in the smells of chili, corn and some other ingredients I can't quite put my finger on. Whatever those are, they smell fucking amazing. 

The attention of our new friends shifts, from the pot, to Rosa, to me. Mostly to me. They're staring at me with wide, curious eyes. I shift in my seat but say nothing. Kids are curious. There's no malice in what they're doing, maybe.

Rosa's laughter pulls my attention from their attention m. 

"¡Me alegro!" Rosa beckons at Reed. He hands her a bowl, which she fills to the brim with spicy goodness. "Enjoy!" She gives it to me. 

I take it, mindful of the injured finger, and, hissing softly, put it down on my plate. 

"Gracias, señorita" I nod at her, grabbing a spoon. 

She laughs again. It's a sweet, warm, almost motherly laugh. It's nice. Puts me at ease. Hell, I'm even starting to smile a little. 

We all get our servings and dig in. We eat, we chat, we joke and laugh. I mostly eat, relegating myself to listening to the mix of English and Spanish resounding around the table. I don't know if the warmth in my chest is caused by the food I'm shoveling into my mouth, or the pleasant atmosphere and company, but I like it. It's nice. I wish it could last forever. 

After the first dish comes another. And another. Soups, barbecue, you name it. It all tastes absolutely fucking heavenly, especially after surviving the day on a single slice of cold pizza. 

I don't even notice when afternoon shifts into evening. We move from the table to a large, unlit bonfire on the foot of the hill the tree is sitting on, clearly prepared for the occasion. We sit around it, splitting into two overlapping groups - me and my friends, milling with Rosa's siblings. 

Simón comes over with Felipe and Moses. They light up the fire. The boys join their siblings, while he exchanges a few words with Rosa, looks at us, nods, and soon returns, carrying a large guitar, made of dark wood. 

He sits opposite to us three and fiddles with the screws a little bit. He strums it a few times. Clean, pleasant sounds follow. He nods, then looks over at his daughter. 

I just now notice a pair of ankylo women sitting by him. One of them is clearly Rosa's mother. She has the same eyes and color of hair as her, even if she's small, almost petite. The other one is old, absolutely ancient. She must be at least eighty years old. But, even as old she is, I can see the hints of beauty, shared by her and Rosa. 

"Toca la canción de la abuela, papá." She asks. "My grandma's favorite song." She explains as that mountain of a man starts strumming. 

It's a slow, melodic, melancholic tune. It carries a distinct note of nostalgia and sadness, but at the same time, I can clearly hear some happy undertones of happiness and satisfaction. It makes me think of… hell, I don't know. Of happier days. Of days with Fang. Of the days of my childhood that didn't suck. 

And then, he starts to sing. I can't understand the lyrics, but they flow with the melody so smoothly, so easily, that the two become inseparable in my head. 

I stare at the fire as I listen to Simón sing.  Tears well up in the corners of my eyes. Not tears of anguish, no. Those tears are marred with sadness, but it feels… It feels good. Warm in a way. Safe. Fuck, I don't know how to describe it. For a time, there's nothing in the world, but the dancing flames and Simón's song. 

Finally, regretfully, the song comes to an end. I discreetly wipe my tears away, looking around to see if anyone noticed. Nobody did. They are all staring at Rosa's dad, who's now idly strumming the guitar, humming some other melody. Rosa's grandmother slowly sways along to the rhythm, her old, wrinkled face lit up by a melancholic smile. 

"Wow." I pause, hearing my voice faltering. "Wow, that was… fucking hell." I shake my head. "What is that song called?" I look over at Rosa. 

"El Brillo De Sus Ojos." Simón replies for her. "My father often sang it to my mother." He softly strums the guitar. "Did you like it?"

I chuckle and shake my head. 

"Like it? I fu-" I check myself. "I frickin love it, sir." Then, before I can bite my tongue, I ask: "Can I borrow your guitar for a moment, Simón, sir?" 

All three of my friends give a start and stare at me. Rosa's siblings start staring at me as well. Simón meanwhile nods, gets up and hands me the guitar. I start strumming, while the three musketeers keep eyeing me. Simón returns to his former spot. I look over. Rosa's mom, and her grandmother are both watching me with great interest. 

"You can play guitar?" Reed finally speaks up. 

"A little." I look at him. "Fang taught me. I only know one song though." 

He frowns a little at my explanation, but he's curious. Stella leans out from behind him. 

"Can you play it?" 

"If I remember how." I chuckle. "Let me just…" 

I strum the guitar for a while, trying to remember the notes. Slowly, gradually, my efforts become less and less random. My fingers find the right spots along the neck of the guitar and the strings. 

I start to think, think of Fang and that day in her room. I close my eyes. 

The music starts to flow. 

The familiar melody starts to echo in the warm evening air, the crackling of the fire complimenting it perfectly. 

I can see her. My sweet, sweet girl, sitting on the floor of her room, playing the very same melody I am playing at this very moment. I can see the calm in her eyes, the soft smile on her face. She was so happy at that moment. So serene. Nothing else mattered while she played, only her and that melody. 

I shudder, feeling a tear rolling down my cheek. Then another. But I keep playing. As long as the music keeps flowing, I can see her. I can see her being happy. Safe. Calm. Fuck, why does this hurt so much? 

Finally, the song ends. I sit still for a moment, listening to the dying echoes of the last note, then slowly open my eyes and wipe them with my forearm. 

"Sorry." I mutter. "I, uh, I got a bit…" I clear my throat. "A bit emotional." 

There's silence around the bonfire. Rosa's the first to break it. 

"Eso fue…" she pauses. "Who taught you this song, An-on?" 

"Fang." I look at her. I wipe off another tear. Then, I stand up and go over to Simón. "Thank you." 

He takes the guitar and nods. His mother looks me in the eyes for a moment. 

"¿La amas?" She smiles warmly.  

I don't understand the question, but the look in her eyes alone is enough for me to grasp what she's asking. 

"Yes. Yes, yes, a hundred times, a thousand, a million times yes." I reply, looking right back at her. 

Stella gasps softly. Reed shifts in his spot. Rosa murmurs something approvingly. Rosa's grandma nods a couple times, with her eyes closed and an even wider smile. I go back to my spot and sit down. I lean back and stare at the stars, while Simón begins another somber ballad. 

"Thank you, Rosa." I mutter. "This was a great fucking day." 

"No es nada." She sounds a bit emotional herself. 

I open my eyes and look at her. Her hand is resting on top of Reed's, while they both look at her father, singing his heart out. Stella's rocking slowly to the rhythm of the song, her eyes closed. I am so lucky. 

I am so fucking lucky. 

 

***

 

I get off the bus. It's an early Saturday morning. Rosa made us stay overnight at her house.

"You will get stabbed or shot, or who knows what else at this time of night, An-on!" She scolded me when I tried to protest. 

I gave in. There was no other choice. Reed and Stella stayed too, so it wasn't all that bad. Well, except for the cleanup after our little feast, but honestly? With such a company, I didn't mind it. 

As I trudge through the rundown streets of Volcaldera's meanest district, I walk past a thrift store. Something on display grabs my attention and makes me stop. I turn and look at it. 

It's a guitar. It looks old. The body is scuffed up, the varnish is chipping off, and the strings look a bit loose. And those tune screws look like they're held on with spit and bubblegum. 

I have to buy it. Now. 

One brief trip inside later and I leave a happy owner of an old piece of musical equipment. I test the tune screws. Huh. They aren't as loose as they seemed. Cool. 

I make my way back to my apartment in a much better mood. On the way, I mess with the tune screws and strum the guitar to test it. It sounds like shit and I'm getting some odd looks from passers-by, but I don't worry about the former and give no fucks about the latter. I have my own guitar now. 

And I'm going to play the fuck out of it. 

I arrive at my building. There's a large car parked in front, one which I am certain does not belong to any of my neighbors. 

How do I know this? Well, it's not a shitty rust bucket, old enough to drink for one. Two, it's clean. Fresh out of the carwash. None of my neighbors care for such minute details. Three, it's already being eyed by the flower of the neighborhood youth. They wouldn't dare to even look at a thug's ride like that. 

Who could it belong to then? It's not Ripley's. Nor Moe's, I don't think. 

I once saw Ripley drive out the station when I was being driven home. He drives some old car, an AMC matador I think. Didn't get a good look at it. 

And Moe can't drive with those tiny arms of his. 

Then whose is it? And what is it doing here? Ah, who the hell cares. Probably some social worker, with more money than brains took their fresh purchase for a spin during work hours. They're in for one hell of a surprise when they leave the building. Man, the look on their face will be hysterical. 

I enter the building. After a quick climb up the stairs, I reach my floor. And I stop. 

Here he is. The motherfucking caveman himself. Suit, glasses, and considerable lack of shoes make him impossible to mistake for anyone else. That and the fact that he's, well, a huge human dude. 

So it's his car that's outside then, huh. Fitting for a school principal I guess. Though I would never imagine him driving an estate car. 

"Good morning, Spears, sir." I get up the last step. 

The beast of a man turns his attention away from my door and towards me. He is not pleased in the slightest. He arches his eyebrow at the sight of the guitar in my hand, but he doesn't comment on it. 

"Good morning." He gives a curt nod. "I received a call from St. Hammond's this morning, Anon." He narrows his eyes. "You didn't show up yesterday. May I know why?" 

"I didn't feel like it." I reply, casually walking up to my door, ignoring that mountain of a human eyeing me all the way through. 

"You didn't feel like it." He repeats as I fish inside my pocket for a key. 

"Yep." I open the door. "Didn't. Fucking. Feel. Like it." I look at him over my shoulder. "It's at the other end of the city." I shrug and go in. 

He follows me inside, without being invited or a single word. I don't mind, nor do I care. I carefully set the guitar down on my bed and turn to him. 

"I'm assuming that was not the only reason." He looks at the guitar, then at me. 

"No it is not." I nod, then rub my jaw. "I am dropping out, Spears, sir." 

That gives him a pause for concern. He blinks and looks at me over the rims of his glasses, then rubs his chin and slowly nods. 

"I understand that after what happened… what Fang had done-" 

"You are not the only person in the world." I interrupt him. 

He pauses and frowns, recognizing his own words of wisdom. Yeah, think, you fucking caveman. Think for a second. 

"Have you considered saying that to anyone else but me, sir?" I ask him, calmly and composedly. I tap my chin. "Like, oh, I don't know, Trish? Or Na-" I cut myself off, turning a shade paler. Nausea wells up, but I stamp it down. 

No. No. No. I will not let that vision take me over again. No more.  

An expression of pain passes over his face. He turns his head towards the window. He stares at the city block below for a good minute before finally turning back to me, all composure and calm. 

"I spoke to Trish many times before… the incident, Anon." 

An incident? Is he for fucking real right now? This motherf-

Calm the fuck down. He is the fucking principal. - the voice reminds me. - He, of all people, best knows how truly bad all this is.  

He doesn't know shit, conscience. He wasn't there. 

How the hell would you know that? - the voice of my own thoughts argues. - You arrived after Fang was done killing. Think for a second, idiot. 

Fuck, fine. I won't rip him a new one. For now. 

"You should have been more thorough then, sir." I tell him. "It was she who fucked up the prom concert." 

He stares at me for a short moment before speaking. 

"And how did you come to that conclusion?" 

"Reed told me. Ask him, sir." 

"I already spoke with Reed, Anon." 

As I expected. I'm at the very bottom of everyone's bucket list. Well, not everyone's. Most of the people. I wonder how high up I am at my new friends' list. 

"So you know what happened." I nod at him." I don't need to explain it to you, sir." 

He's silent for a moment. He closes his eyes, tenses up, then relaxes as he takes a slow, very slow breath through his nose. He exhales. 

"Yes, I know. I spoke to Trish. She…" 

"Her word ain't worth jack shit!" I burst out. "You should have told her about not being the only person in the world." I turn away from him, gripping my forehead. "You say that you spoke with her many times. And yet she still acted like… well, how she did."  

I can hear him shift.

"You're not guiltless yourself in that regard, Anon." 

No shit. Don't need to remind me about what happened at your office, mister Spears the Fucking Caveman. Do I regret it? Fuck, I don't know. Maybe if I did talk to her, try to work this shit out back then, things may have turned out differently. Or maybe not. Maybe I'd still find a way to screw it up. Or she would. 

It's all water under the bridge now. No point in despairing over what you cannot change. 

My eyes land on the Ativan bottle. Fuck, I haven't taken my evening dose yesterday. 

I feel his look on my back as I shake a pill out and snap it in half. I swallow it, take a breather and turn back to him. His eyes wander to the pill bottle. 

"For the nerves. Fang's dad has been interrogating me, and it's…" I wince. "It's been hard, sir. Especially after…" I swallow down the bitterness of the pill. "After what happened." 

His hand lands on my shoulder, its weight making my knees buckle. 

"I understand how you feel, Anon." He slowly says. "More than you can imagine. Those kids were students at my school. My students ." He smacks his chest. "They were almost like my own children to me." He shakes his head, his hair waving along. "Fang almost joined them." 

I stiffen. He's not angry at her. He's sad. At least, he sounds sad. That man has a face of stone, incredibly hard to read at the best of times. 

"And you saved them. Fang." He nods at me in an expression of gratitude. I shake his arm off and turn away.

"I don't want to prod at this fucking wound anymore, sir." I say, turning away from him. "You came to see how I'm doing. I'll tell you: I'm doing okay. As okay as I can, given the circumstances." I sigh. "I'm dropping out, sir, and I'm joining the army." I glance at him over my shoulder.  

He takes it with his usual composure. The only response I get is a curt nod, followed shortly by a question. 

"Any particular reasons?" 

"Fang's dad hates me. That's one. My grades are shit and I will not be able to catch up. That's two. Three?" I smile bitterly to myself. "I want to get the fuck away from it all." I lie. 

I want to get away from Fang. She loves me, but I don't deserve that love. I don't want to hurt her more than I already did. 

Spears' hand again grips my shoulder. He knows I'm lying. 

"And the real third reason?" 

I can't lie to him. He's reading me like an open book. God fucking dammit.  

"I may have gotten Fang pregnant, sir." I say slowly. 

The grip tightens. Not by much, but it still fucking hurts. 

"On the night before the…" I hesitate. "The incident, Fang came here and…" My voice falters. 

My heart starts pounding. My fists clench. I start shivering. Hot and cold wash over me, one after the other. I didn't think much of what happened, as it was happening. But as time went by and I had the time to digest it, it started to dawn on me how fucked up it was. Raptor Jesus fucking Christ. 

Before Anon knew what was happening, I was already on top of him, RIDING. HIS. DICK!

"She took advantage of me." I swallow, hard and slow. "Visit her in prison and ask her. She will confirm it." 

I still love you, my sweet sweet girl. 

Spears' hand tightens around my shoulder even harder, threatening to snap my clavicle. I wince and shudder a little but don't try to move away. 

"Ask Reed." I continue. "She called me from prison. He was with me. He can vouch for the truthfulness of my words."  

Spears lets go of me. He turns around and sighs, deeply, slowly. There's a hint of anger in that sigh. Is it aimed at me or Fang, I'm not sure. But I'd rather not prod him about it. He isn't in the right state of mind at the moment. 

"I see." He finally says. "Are you going to leave her alone with the child then?" 

I reply in the negative and briefly relay to him my plan concerning the well-being of the child, if a child should be born. He listens to me in silence. After I'm done, he snorts in approval. 

"If there is any way I can help you, Anon, ask." He says. "You're both my students and my responsibility." 

I perk up. 

"There is something you can do." I turn to him. 

"I'm listening." He nods, still turned away from me. He's looking through the window again. 

"I'll write a letter to Fang, explaining my reasons for leaving." I tell him. "Can you give it to her when you visit her in prison? Her dad will never let me near her." 

He nods the moment I'm done speaking. 

"I'll do what's in my power." 

Thanks, caveman. Maybe you're not that bad of a guy after all. 

I sit by the desk, while Spears stands by me, his hands behind his back, his eyes glued to the street below. Weird how I haven't heard the car alarm yet. I wonder if that beast of a T-Rex lady sitting in his car has something to do with it. 

It takes me a while, but I finally manage to compose a letter that's somewhat presentable. 

 

Sweet tooth, 

I am leaving Volcaldera for a time. Know, that I am not abandoning you, I just need to get away from here for a while, until things settle down a bit. I will write to you as often as I can. 

About our child, if what we did does result in a child being born, know that I will not abandon them also. I have a plan to provide for them, which I still need to work on, but I promise you, they will not go hungry, or end up without a future. 

I love you. 

Anon

 

Spears takes the letter, reads it over, looks at me and nods, then carefully folds it and puts it in his inside pocket. 

"Brief and to the point." He pats my shoulder. "Good luck in the army, Anon." 

"Thank you, sir." I nod at him. 

He nods back and leaves. I lock the door behind him and turn to my bed. The guitar lays there, beckoning, tempting me. I get up, grab it, sit back by the desk and fire up my PC. 

A few hours and about two dozen tutorials later, I manage to bring the guitar to a usable condition. I strum on it a few times. It still is a bit out of tune. But I can't do much with those shitty strings. Gonna have to buy some fresh ones tomorrow. But for now…

I sit on the bed. I start strumming. Soon, my fingers find the right notes. Without even thinking, I start slowly moving my hand up and down the neck of the guitar, while I gently strum with the other. 

The music starts to flow. I close my eyes. 

I can see her. Safe, calm, happy. There's nothing in the world, but her. 

Her and this melody.