Fall leaves made a satisfying crunching sound beneath her boots as she trudged on. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going but in all honesty she often lived that way, going—often running—with no real destination, only with the goal to get away from her starting spot. Her beaten down gold satchel held her only belongings as it bounced heavily against her hip with each step. As she came around from the exit of the club she saw the parking lot across the street. Despite the early hour, there were still figures lingering around the outside of a large bus parked there. She kept walking, hoping no one would notice her, but she was unlucky.

“Hey!” Andy’s voice caught her ears as she blew by, “Wait up!”

“Oh,” she pretended to only just notice him, “hey.”

He raised an eyebrow, obviously her acting skills were a bit off. He didn’t press that matter though, for which she was grateful. “What are you up to so early?”

She felt him leave the bus’s side and fall into step with her as she marched down the street. “Nothing special. Aren’t your friends going to wonder where you are?”

“Meh,” Andy shrugged, still keeping pace with her. “Why are you out in your pajamas?”

“Why aren’t you out in your pajamas?” she retaliated, still hoping to lose him off her tail, she knew he wasn’t really the kind of person who should be exposed to what she had planned today. “And why are you following me?”

“I’m not following you,” he shot back, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. “I just happen to be headed the same place you are. So... where are you headed?”

She couldn’t help but let a small chuckle slip through her lips, “Nowhere you ought to be.”

“I’m a big boy, I think I can make that decision.” He grinned down at her, but she couldn’t give him an honest one in return. “Why don’t we ditch our mystery destination and do something?”

“Wish I could,” she shrugged and sighed a bit, imagining a life where she could just do whatever she wanted to and not have to worry about making sure she had a meal and a roof over her head, “I’ve got somewhere to be though.”

“Ah ha. So there is a destination to this journey.” He ran his hand along his chin, seemingly deep in thought, before he cried out, “We’re going to mars!”

She laughed with him, “Not quite, buddy.”

“Oh,” he pouted, then his face lit up again. “We’re going to the White House!”

“Not even close!” She didn’t bite back her laughter anymore, but reveled in the brief moment of fun.

He seemed genuinely distraught, “Well, I’m out of guesses, so you’re just gonna have to tell me.”

“Nah,” she payed along, yet part of her knew she honestly could not tell him, even if she wanted to, “sorry. You’re stuck.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m leaving,” he shrugged, still taking small steps so as to keep with her and not let his long legs help him get ahead. Meanwhile she was struggling to take extra large steps in hopes of losing him.

“You should get back to your friends, Andy.” She felt strange saying his name, as if she’d known it all her life yet it wasn’t hers to say, she didn’t like saying it at all but she desperately needed to get on with her journey. “They’ll be looking for you and I’ve got to go.”

He smiled sadly at her, “They won’t miss me much, they don’t even notice if I’m there or not anymore, I’m silent either way. And, whether you or anyone you know likes to admit it or not, you are in fact a child. It can’t hurt to have an adult around, right?”

“So, this is your way of babysitting me?” She saw that her sharp tone had made him flinch but she didn’t regret it. She hated being looked after, it was extremely uncomfortable to a person who’d grown used to being the only one to care for her own wellbeing. She hoped he was hurt enough to leave, but he didn’t.

“No, its my way of getting to hang out with you. You’re a cool kid.” His tone was light, but there was something else behind the words he spoke, there was more to it, yet she didn’t press him. She really just needed him to go, as much as part of her really liked the idea of him being with her.

“Well I’m honored,” she made a mock-bow as they walked, “but really, you don’t wanna hang around much longer. I have a feeling you won’t much like my... er... friends.”

He quirked up an eyebrow at her, “And why’s that?”

“They aren’t really the typical eleven-year-old’s playmates.” She shrugged, hoping he’d let it drop already. He didn’t seem keen on that idea. Instead he kept up with her, still walking and ignoring her protests. “Okay. Here’s the deal.” She stopped and he fell still too, turning to face her. “I’ve got shit to do. So if you’ll leave me be now then how about we say we’ll see each other later?” Andy didn’t look too thrilled with this prospect either. “Fine. Then we just say goodbye for good here because I’ve got to go and I’m not letting you follow.”

Andy rolled his eyes, “Fine, alright. Go, have fun reeking havoc on the rest of the world. I’ll see you later though?” He wasn’t sure why but something felt really off, he wasn’t okay with letting this kid go but he figured she’d be alright so long as he could check in with her later.

She nodded, crossing her fingers surreptitiously behind her back, “Yep. See you then.”

Without waiting for a response she was gone, headed off down the path between two buildings where they’d stopped. Andy sighed, turning back toward the bus but thought better of it. He wasn’t ready to go back there yet, wasn’t ready to put on the fake façade of himself. He turned about face and made his way toward the park he could see in the distance.

---

She let a small shiver roll down her spine as she walked, feeling the full force of the autumn air through her thin clothing. She knew where she was headed and didn’t stop for anything. She reached the building and stopped at the rusty metal door, knocking and waiting.

---

Andy decided he’d spent enough time at the park seeing as the sun was now directly overhead. He ran a hand through his hair and stood up from the bench, walking out the way he’d come in. He knew it’d been a mistake to come out here without his cell because the guys were sure to be freaking out but he couldn’t deny how good it’d felt to just be alone for a little while and simply feel down.

He traced the same path he’d gone over that morning, stopping at the alley he’d seen her disappear into. He hoped he could find her at Jackson's club, he still felt uneasy. As he started to walk past he caught sight of red hair disappearing between the following two buildings. He followed, quickening his pace but trying to stay out of sight all the while. He turned the corner he’d been watching and saw the same girl from the club walking down the alley. He quickly ducked behind a garbage can as she looked over her shoulder, just hoping he hadn’t been seen. Apparently he hadn’t seeing as he heard her footsteps resume pace, still fading. He decided to try and catch her before he lost sight of her but as he stood he saw her disappearing into yet another alley. Andy sighed, almost deciding to give up and just go back to the bus, but forced himself to go on.

This wasn’t right, that much he knew, whatever ‘this’ was. He caught sight of her orange locks as she darted toward a door, moving in such a way that he knew she felt his eyes on her. Andy slid behind a large pile of boxes set in the alley, looking like the remnants of unpacking stock for whatever store he now hid behind. As Andy peered around the mountain of cardboard, he gazed on as she stopped seemingly in the middle of nowhere, looking up, back down, and jumping with all her might. Andy sat there, watching in confusion that morphed into awe as she leapt again, this time catching onto the lowest rung of the escape ladder. She tugged it to the ground with her, forcing the obviously rusty, unsafe contraption to the pavement below before swinging her bag so that it fell against her back and mounting the ladder. Andy was torn, wanting to rush forward and stop her but also wanting to remain hidden, needing to find out what kind of friends she had to gage whether or not he should get police involved.

She reached the first landing, banged on the wooden frame which once held the apartment's window, now only fragments of glass clung to the edges as if it’d been shattered at one point in time. Andy watched in horror as she slid through the busted window, one glass shard ripping into the fabric of her sweatshirt to create a fresh tear to add to the other holes littering the clothing. She didn’t seem to notice, not even as blood trickled through the hole, a small maroon stain blossoming on the purple shirt. She didn’t disappear from Andy’s sight, standing just inside the room where he could still see her. Another silhouette came beside her, appearing much lager than her little stature, and handed something over. She took it and spun around, facing the alley and clambering out the once-a-window. Just before she raised her head, standing on the landing, Andy had the foresight to duck back behind his fortress of boxes in time for to miss catching sight of him.

Andy froze, steeling himself for the moment she’d stride past his hiding spot and discover she was being stalked, when a loud thud faraway made him jerk forward. He looked to the opposite side, where the ladder and window were, and saw red curls whipping around another corner. Dammit. She’d gotten away again. He heaved himself up, the exhaustion of his insomnia catching up with him full-force, and thought hard. Did he really need to go after her? Would he piss her off by doing so? Did it really matter if she was angry, after all her health was much more important and the situation he’d witnessed gave him serious concerns for her safety? He honestly just wanted to get back onto the bus and curl into a ball—under the Batman blanket Juliet had given him months preceding—in his bunk and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. He also really wanted a smoke. But something nagged at him, telling him to go after her. So, with a resigned sigh, he began to jog past the building, through yet another grimy alleyway, chasing after a girl who didn’t want to be found.

---

Her feet moved fast, picking out the right steps through this alley, managing to avoid all bits of broken bottles and a few still-burning joints. She felt eyes on her every move but attributed the sensation to what she was doing at the moment, knowing her actions weren’t particularly legal. Especially for a girl young enough to have never even had her period. Still she ignored the feeling, staying focused as she rounded the last corner and found yet another run down building.

The girl felt a fall breeze ripple through the air, flinging stray curls into her eyes, and she pushed them back impatiently. The gust of wind also sent a small chill racing down her spine, or perhaps that was simply the same feeling of being watched. Her feet were already tired, this being her fourth trip around town that day, and she wished again for an alternate life. She was never one to wallow in self-pity, the why me game changed nothing as it turned out, but she did allow herself fleeting moments to dream up another world for herself. One full of promise and opportunity, unhindered by her past and society’s view of homelessness being a byproduct of selfishness, one where she was kissed on either cheek by adoring parents before leaving for school each morning. In this fantasy world she wore clothes that weren’t too small or large; she had more than two pairs of shoes; she never had to sleep on concrete or pool tables or bus seats; she was studying to one day be a music producer; she had a crush on the kid two seats in front of her in Math; she let her mother do her make up for fun one saturday afternoon; she sat on her father’s lap as they watched hockey together, cheering for their favorite team and laughing at each other’s silly expressions of excitement as they made a goal.

In this fantasy world… she was safe.

Unable to waste anymore time on such delusions, she slipped around the final corner into a small liquor store. She nodded at the owner, though they never spoke they knew one another and neither wanted to get in the other’s way, as she strolled toward the back. Along the back wall she found a display selling potato chips. At one point in her life she might’ve found this scene amusing but nowadays she knew better than to laugh. She pulled a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos from the back of the rack and extracted a small Ziploc from inside. After stuffing the contents into her pocket, she shoved another small bag inside and replaced the chip package. There. It was done. Now to report back and clock out.

She hurried back through the isles but just as she reached the doors she saw something from the corner of her eye, something far too recognizable. Dressed in the same clothes as that morning, Andy was looking at the options for cigarettes behind the counter. She held her breath, hoping against hope that he hadn’t yet noticed her, and flew through the doors. She knew the tinkling of the bell attached to said doors would’ve sounded in her wake but she didn’t dare look back to see if Andy had turned, too busy running for her life.

She stopped only once she reached the very building she’d last visited, climbing the ladder and hopping though the window. She collapsed in relief on the blood-and-wine-stained carpet just inside, knowing that she could’ve very well been killed if things hadn’t gone according to plan.

“You’re already back?” Sam, a twenty-six year old guy who was second in command, asked. He’d always had a soft spot for her, as evidenced by his tendency to literally put himself between her and the barrel of a gun on more than one occasion, and as he now rushed across the small, dilapidated room to help her to her feet. His tawny eyes looked concerned as he ran a hand through his shorn, auburn hair. “The fuck happened, Squirt?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” she snapped, equally aware that they weren’t alone in the apartment and that the walls between this living area and the occupied bedroom attached were paper thin. “Just in a hurry is all.”

“Sure,” he replied, his expression still skeptical as he caught sight of both of her skinned knees and the trail of blood dripping from a cut on her hip. He pointed to the abrasions, sarcastically muttering, “‘Cause that looks ‘fine’.”

“It is,” she countered, only just noticing the marks for herself. When had she fallen? She couldn’t remember.

“C’mere.” Sam pulled her to sit on the couch, one of an ugly mauve shade with springs poking through in some places and seams splitting in others. She sat, catching her breath, and watched as Sam walked to the small kitchenette and back, now holding the small first-aid box that was unlike any other she knew. Bandages: check. Neosporin: check. Tylenol: check. Revolver: check. Spare rounds: check. Disposable and untraceable cellphone: check. Wad of three thousand dollars, counted by the boss each night: check. Sam cleaned her injuries, neither of them squeamish about blood or anything of the sort, and then looked her dead in the eyes. He dropped his voice to a whisper, holding her gaze, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, what happened? Did something go wrong at the drop? Tell me now, I’ll fix it before Jon finds out–”

“It’s nothing. I did the drop. Here,” she pulled the cash from her pocket, handing him the wad inside its plastic baggie. “Am I good for today?”

“Yeah,” he answered, tucking the money into his own pocket save for a few bills he skimmed from his personal cut and handed to her which she knew better than to refuse, “go be a kid, kid. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” It drove him crazy to be called that, she’d seen him shoot a client in the foot for addressing him by it, but she could say it without issue. He just scowled playfully at her, stretching the scar running from the left corner of his lips straight back to his ear, and ruffled her curls before pulling her to her feet once again and lightly shoving her toward the window. He knew better than others how fragile she was inside, but also knew that despite her size and age this girl had seen as much pain as he had, and therefore he didn’t treat her like a child.

“Get out,” he teased, flipping her off—a gesture which she returned—and disappearing into the bedroom. She let her shoulders sag, the weight of pretending everything was okay falling upon her now that she was free of observant eyes. She did as Sam instructed, clambering through the gaping hole once more.

It was on her walk back though alleyways, headed toward Jack’s bar, that she felt that prickling on the back of her neck again. Every cell in her body told her to run, to hide, to at least turn around and see who’s watching dammit. But her head told her otherwise. She kept calm, only speeding up her pace by a fraction, and soon found herself once again on the sidewalk and in plain view of strangers out for a leisurely walk in the autumn air. She sighed in relief, turning sharply and making her way straight toward a small newspaper dispenser that appeared out of order beside a bus stop, she inserted a trick quarter and opened it to pull out her satchel, swing it onto her shoulder, and slam the thing shut before continuing on her way.

It was easier to convince herself the feeling was all in her head now that she breathed in clean air, watching her breath blow out in a wintery puff of smoke and dissipate before her eyes. As she reached the familiar block, she looked briefly toward the bus parked across the street but no one stood outside this time. Something fluttered in her chest, she wasn’t sure if it was relief or—dare she say it—disappointment. Well, she knew where he was earlier, perhaps he hadn’t yet returned. Was that a comfort or a concern to her?

She was beginning to feel fed up with herself. She’d been self-sufficient and self-sustained for almost as long as she could remember, she knew better than to become tangled up in other people, they would never understand and they could never last. She pulled her fingers through her hair, angrily tugging at knots, and decided she’d busy herself with a shower. The local gym was owned by one of Sam’s exes, a woman named Carly who’d made a deal with the girl that she was allowed to use the showers so long as she helped out there a few mornings a week.

“Hey, Squirt,” Carly greeted, obviously having adapted Sam’s annoying nick-name in the time they’d dated. “All yours,” Carly passed her a key to the locker room and smiled warmly as the younger girl nodded in thanks and jogged toward the back of the building where the bathrooms were.

As she closed and locked the door behind her, she set her things down and began to strip off her dirty clothes. She wrapped herself in a towel and took her clothes over to a small hamper, placing them so that Carly could wash them for her, yet another favor the woman performed. She turned on warm water, twisting the knob so what it was nearer a scalding temperature, and dropped the towel as she stepped inside. Showers were one of the most peaceful things she’d ever experienced, she decided. It was the only place in the world she allowed herself to shirk her armor, just free herself from constantly needing to be on guard. She crouched down, folding into a ball and letting the water fall on her head, her legs trembling too much to hold her weight much longer. She needed to eat soon but didn’t want to waste the money if she was going to sleep somewhere in a bit anyway. She put her face in her hands, her breaths picking up pace and intensity until she was suddenly sobbing. She knew no one could hear her over the pounding water and the music that played at a hum in the background throughout the gym, she was safe to just fall apart here. But soon the water was cooling off, no longer giving her skin that satisfying tingle, and she was forced to stand. She leaned her meager weight against the tiled wall of the shower as she grabbed at the little bottle of shampoo like those you’d find in a hotel bathroom, squeezing it into her palm and slowly, carefully lathering it into her hair. Carly was also the one who died her hair and as she washed the dirt and loose leaves from her locks she realized it’d need to be touched up soon. It was as if all was at peace as she smoothed conditioner into her curls and rinsed it out, turning so that the water splashed onto her face and began to wash herself with the available soap. Everything would be okay eventually as long as showers existed in the world. She only spared a glance down at her body as the soap stung the open wounds adorning her skin, trying not to see the bones jutting from beneath her chalky pallor in unappealing ways. The amount of scars she had collected over the years surely broke some sort of record, scratches from glass shards and deep gashes from knife fights over a bad deal mixed with yellowing bruises caused by her chronic clumsiness and nicks here and there from various other slips and falls. It disgusted her. But at the same time, she feared that without these constant reminders she might do something insane like trust someone again, and that just couldn’t be allowed.

The water was now unbearably icy and she was forced to switch it off and wrap herself in the towel once again. She swiped one hand across the fogged mirror above a sink, seeing her skin still glowed pink from the heat she’d put it through before and decided she didn’t want to look at herself another second. Turning away from her reflection, she unlocked her locker and pulled out a hairbrush which she set to work on her mass of tangled tresses, pacing and humming to herself all the while. When the brush slid easily through her locks she began to dress in the clothes she’d worn before—now washed, dried, and folded by Carly whilst she’d been showering. She could put it off no longer, she gathered her things together and left behind the humid comfort of the locker room to brave the chill awaiting her outside.

“How are you?” Carly asked her as she reached the counter again and returned the key.

“Alive, and you?” This was the best response she could offer and, seeing as she dated a co-worker of the girl’s, Carly understood.

“Same.” Carly abandoned the counter to come out and hug the girl, ignoring her instinct to freeze up on contact, and smile at her. “See you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, faking another smile and ducking out of the gym in fast-forward. Now with nothing left to distract herself she had no choice but to hold up her end of the deal and go see Andy. At least, that’s what she told herself. She convinced herself she was only going to see him because she didn’t want to go back on her word. That’s all. But privately she knew she was truly curious. And that was a very dangerous thing to be.

Andy lingered outside his bus as long as possible but it’d been a while since he’d seen hide or hair of the mystery girl and he couldn’t put it off much longer. He sighed, popping open the bus’s door and mounting the small stairs into the living area. The guys were all there, playing some video game, and tried in various ways to capture their bandmate’s attention but Andy was lost to them. He offered a thin smile before slipping through the door to the bunks, curling up in his bunk. He wasn’t sure how to best block the world out but eventually settled for putting headphones in.

Silence enveloped him, broken only once he began blasting music, and he reveled in the reprieve from needing to please people. He thought of the swarms of fans who came to him with scars and thanked him for staving off their depression, saying that he’d kept them alive. He wished now that he had something equal to theirs from which he could draw strength. He used to enjoy this, didn't he? He was almost positive he used to truly smile on stage. He couldn't remember anymore. Since they’d been on a brief break he hadn’t stepped foot on in a venue… until the night before. Granted, it was a small one, hardly anything compared to some of the crowds his band had pulled, but it had sparked something within him. For the quickest second Andy could swear he remembered what it was like to love something, anything, and he owed it to that girl. But how could he possibly thank her for something he could scarcely put into words? He mightn’t need to worry over thanking her anyway, she seemed to be a master at avoiding him. He knew now that hiding must be second nature to her, with what he’d seen that day he knew that he’d been right to be concerned for her. Someone ought to be. Andy thought perhaps Jackson might fill that gap but obviously Jack didn’t know of the girl’s extra curricular activities, or else he would’ve surely put a stop to it. Right? Andy liked to think so. Even still, the girl was able to keep her dirty secrets covered up, until he’d shown up. It must annoy her, he figured, to suddenly feel as if she were trapped beneath a microscope but he couldn't seem to stop himself from wanting to hover. He felt this need this desperation that shook him to his bones, he absolutely had to protect her. It was eating him alive.

Andy, already slender, had lost weight since his period of depression began. His face had always been angular, sharp cheek bones and a jawline that could cut glass, but nowadays he looked hollow. He couldn’t bear to look in a mirror, fearing the man he’d see. He couldn’t imagine how his bandmates didn’t gape at him, nor how Juliet could manage to kiss him. Andy himself was repulsed, how weren’t others? In fact, the guys did watch him like he was a bomb, ticking down to the imminent point of detonation. Juliet often gazed at him with drawn eyebrows and an obvious frown, as if observing an animal hit by a car. But something about that girl… She made him feel whole. She made him feel strong, and normal. It was as if he’d known her all his life, but she was only a child. Was it really that odd for an adult to feel that psychological connection to someone less than half his age? He supposed it was. Perhaps she was a distant cousin or someone he met before in passing.

Andy’s thoughts were interrupted by a tap against his bunk’s curtain. Had the movement not caught his eye he’d never have known someone was there, too absorbed in his music and his head, but as it happened he saw and pulled out one earbud while tugging his curtain open to reveal Jake.

“Hey, man, I think you’ll wanna come out here,” Jake said, something about his expression telling Andy there was something else beneath his words. Probably another attempt to get him to act like himself, Andy thought and he wondered if Jake lost at tic-tac-toe or rock-paper-sissors in order to be sent to get him.

“I will later, I’m really tired.” Andy went to close his curtain again, unable to handle the looks of mingled disappointment and resignation his friends wore each time he turned them down, but Jake stopped him. That was new. The guys were usually overly-cautious with him, as if they were crossing a land-mine each time the addressed him, but he supposed that couldn’t be expected to last. Eventually they’d get fed up with him and try a harsher approach. “I swear, I will, just let me–”

“Seriously, Andy, c’mon. There’s someone here to see you.” Andy must have let a flicker of emotion flit across his generally blank features because something simultaneously lit in Jake’s eyes. Be it shock at seeing Andy react or hope that this was the turning point, Jake looked relieved as Andy kicked off his blanket, pulled on his boots, and shoved his phone in his pocket. Andy hurriedly jammed his wallet, key to the bus door, and cigarettes into his various pockets and grabbed a hoodie before passing Jake—who was still standing, stunned, beside the recently vacated bunk—and the others as he headed for the door.

He didn’t think twice, he just opened the door and rushed down the stairs, closing it in his wake. Something in his gut, some unknown intuition, told him that it was her. And he was right. There she was. Orange hair, dipped aquamarine at the bottom, facing him as she looked the other direction. He could see she was cleaner, presumably having showered, but she still wore the same clothes. He could see her pale skin blanketed in goosebumps from the chill and instantly crossed the yard of space between them to set his hoodie loosely over her shoulders. She jumped in surprise, turning to look at him with panic in her eyes until she recognized him, at which point she relaxed.

“Are you just naturally warm blooded or are you trying to look macho?” she asked him straight away, sparing no time for the niceties before slipping into her comfort-zone of biting sass.

Andy didn’t even flinch, he instead grinned—yes, she could actually make the statue smile—at her. “I don’t have to try. I just am macho. I mean, have you seen me?”

“What I see is a guy who really likes black. And old punk bands,” she pointed at his Black Flag tee and his smirk broadened.

“At least you know what kind of music this is. I’d figure your generation wouldn’t even know Nirvana from One Direction.”

“Fuck off,” she said, and to Andy’s pleasure he could detect a note of amusement in her voice, “One Direction isn’t even in the same universe as Nirvana!”

Laughing, Andy nodded, lifting his hands in a motion of surrender, “Alright, alright. You’ve proven yourself. I suppose I can associate with you now.”

She scoffed which turned into her own chuckle, “Please, I’m way cooler than you. Don’t even try.”

“Pardon me, madam,” Andy bowed to her as if she were the empress. “I am ever so grateful to be allowed in your presence.”

She laughed a little harder, putting her hands over her face in a way that looked almost embarrassed. Could it be? Andy couldn’t rid himself of his smile at the thought that he’d caused her to actually act her age, he’d made the smile she now tried to hide. She shrugged her way into his jacket, distracting herself from her blush by searching the pockets for a certain box.

“Ah ah ah, I don’t think so.” She looked up to see Andy wagging a fresh box of cigarettes in his hand, obviously teasing her with it.

“Don’t be mean! I haven’t had one all day!” She now looked the most childlike Andy had yet seen her, her arms folded across her chest as she stomped her foot.

“Come with me,” all amusement drained from her features at the dramatic change in his tone but Andy gave her a small smile in reassurance. “It’s alright, I just wanna take you somewhere.”

Every lesson she’d learned over the years told her to walk in exactly the opposite direction the stranger was telling her to go but there was something other, something new and unknown but absolute and true, beneath it all. Something that made her follow Andy as he began to walk up the street. He noticed her tugging her bag higher on her shoulder and stealthily snuck in, putting the bag on his own shoulder. She’d never admit it but it made her feel so much better to be free of the weight of everything she owned for just a moment. Andy grinned down at her, which she returned hesitantly, as they walked.

“Aren’t you curious where we’re going?” he asked her.

She raised her pierced brow at him, “Sure.”

“Well, I’m not telling you.” Looking quite proud of himself, Andy turned his nose up at her and proceeded to take long steps that were hard to keep up with. She jogged anyway, just fast enough to reach him and whack him in the stomach as she pouted.

“Prick.”

“Hey!” Andy still had a hard time getting used to someone so young seeming so beyond their years. Especially with a mouth like she had. He had to stifle his laughter, knowing that as the adult in the situation he really shouldn’t encourage her. They walked in silence for a while, up until they reached the park Andy had spent his morning in. He motioned for her to follow him past it, stopping at a little cafe he’d seen earlier. “I’m hungry, you?”

“I’m fine,” she replied without pause, as if it was her knee-jerk reaction, but he walked inside anyway, knowing she’d follow as he was currently holding her possessions hostage. “No fair,” she grumbled childishly, falling into step with Andy as he followed a waitress’s lead to a booth in the far back of the cafe.

“Let me know if you need me,” the waitress told Andy as they took their seats, reaching across his lap to pointlessly adjust the salt and pepper shakers, making sure her chest was clearly in his view.

Annoyed, the girl at Andy’s opposite barked an unamused laugh, “Yeah, if we need unplanned pregnancy along with a heaping pile of the Clap, we’ll be sure to let you know.”

The waitress flushed in anger and spun to face the child whom she’d previously been ignoring, “Watch your tone, midget. You’re just pissed cause I can fuck who I want and you’re still in diapers.”

Andy felt that all-consuming desire to protect her blind him, causing him to abruptly stand up, his height and expression apparently frightening the waitress, “Apologize to her this instant or I’ll have you fired before you can say Syphilis.”

Looking thoroughly abashed, the waitress turned to the girl she’d just verbally attacked. Once Andy couldn’t see her face the waitress gave the girl a look that clearly said she wasn’t at all sorry, “I apologize.”

The girl smirked sarcastically and wiggled her fingers at the waitress in a taunting gesture, “I’ll think about it and see if I forgive you.”

The waitress spun on her heel and left, allowing Andy to sit again and glare at her retreating figure.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she told him, but he could see that this was her way of saying thank you.

“It’s no biggie, I hate girls like that who think they can get whatever they want by batting their eyelashes. Fuck ‘em.” Andy was smiling yet again, glad to have been able to stand up for her, though this girl clearly had her bearings about her. As evidenced by his drop in weight, Andy didn't often feel hungry, but he knew that the girl was just as well as he knew that she wouldn't eat without him doing so first. He therefore picked up a menu and tried his best to appear as though he was looking through many appealing options. The girl followed suit but their mutual silence was beginning to get unbearable for Andy. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“… Like what?” she prodded, obviously made uncomfortable by the vague request.

“Basic stuff,” he said, trying to make his voice reassuring around the lump that stubbornly stayed put in his throat despite his best efforts to clear it. She didn’t object directly so he took that as an agreement. “Well, I know how old you are. How about a name?”

“I go by a lot of different ones,” she responded. Andy watched as she stared blankly at the menu, more interested in twisting the strings attached to the hood of his jacket nervously.

“Yeah, Jack said that. He also said he only knows you by the name you use when you perform, Iris. But, he said he doesn’t think that’s your actual given name.” Andy abandoned the pretense of regarding the menu, placing it on the table. He folded his hands together and set them, too, on the table before himself, now completely focused on the girl. She didn’t seem on the same page, still gazing at the food items listed as though they held the key to eternal life.

“It’s one of my names. Isn’t that enough?”

“Have I given you reason not to trust me?” Andy inquired, watching intently as her eyes—matching his own—darkened considerably before she responded.

“Guilty until proven innocent.”

“I believe it’s the other way around,” he quipped, enjoying having someone to bounce banter off of.

“That proves you’ve never lived my life. But I’m still waiting to see about telling you my name.”

“What can I do to prove my worth, then?” He attempted to come across as lighthearted when all he wanted to do, for some strange reason, was sit next to her in the booth. He wanted to put the menu to the side and force her to look him in the eyes, he never wanted something as much as he wanted to prove himself to this child. He wanted to see in her crystal irises that she believed in him, that she could see something in him that he was blind to, that she could put her faith in him to give her safety. But here he sat, a table’s-width apart, staring into what was almost a cavity—a shell—of a child save for an infinitesimal flicker in her that told him there was hope yet. It shone, just a spark, in the way she occasionally skipped one step because it’d land on a different colored concrete block; in the way she chewed her lips rings, her eyes darting around as if waiting for an Atomic Bomb to go off; in the way she bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from letting him see her smiling; in the way she sometimes watched him when she thought he didn’t notice, her expression seeming as if she were analyzing him just as he did her. And he couldn’t understand any of it, but he couldn’t understand anything these days and he didn’t care, not when it came to her.

“I, um…” she sighed, her whole face heating up, and set her menu to the side. “What are you getting?”

“I was gonna get whatever you want, I want you to just kick back and eat what you want for a few,” Andy shrugged and smiled, enjoying the feeling of nonchalance. But she didn’t smile, and she didn’t kick back, she began pulling her fingers against her spider bites.

“I’m fine,” she said yet again. Andy frowned.

“Whether you want to tell me your name or not, tell me what’s wrong right now.” She looked no less inclined to open up, so Andy let his walls crumble. He let go. In a way he hadn’t in so long, he looked her dead in the eyes, “Please, Queen No-Name.”

She did it again, she chewed the inside of her cheeks to suppress a smile. Her eyes downcast, her cheeks pink, and her lips hinting at a smile. “Icanedwread.”

“What?” Andy nudged, leaning closer so as to hear her better.

She finally looked up at him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since the night before, and she really studied him before finally she mumbled again, “I can’t read. Well, I can’t read well I mean. I can read, I learned when I was little, but things get mixed up so I’m working on it. I’m learning, right now. A friend of a friend, Carly, she’s teaching me. But, I can’t read the menu.”

“What’s your favorite food, then?” he asked, careful not to take on any sort of change, wanting her to see that any faults she had weren’t things to be ashamed of. At least not around him.

Andy watched as she seemed to find herself sucked away from the table, from this conversation, from everything. He’d seen that look, in the mirror in fact. She was lost in memories. Unlike himself, however, she seemed to have mastered the ability to return to her body without force from someone around her. She zoned back in, still avoiding eye contact, “I guess it’d be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

“Wise choice,” he said in a teasingly grave voice, as if they were discussing what colors to decorate a coffin, and she indulged him by letting a small smile slip in. “But there are follow up questions, Your Highness.” He picked up his fork and held it as a microphone, turning to the completely empty table beside their own and addressing it as if speaking to a camera, “We are here today with our dear Queen No-Name to discuss the pressing topic of sandwiches,” he turned to the girl to find her face reddened again, this time either from embarrassment as the other few cafe patrons gave Andy strange looks or otherwise because she was also choking back giggles at his ridiculousness. “Your Majesty, the first query I present you with is that of the type of bread you prefer, a crucial question as the bread of a sandwich is said to be the earth from which the flavor blooms.”

She shook her head, putting her hands over her face and her shoulders shook. For a brief moment Andy worried she was crying but, to his surprise, she moved her hands and revealed herself to be laughing. She suddenly sat up straight, folding her hands in her lap and giving Andy and imperious look. He took the hint and extended the ‘mic’ to her. “Ahem,” she coughed, “my bread choice, as you mentioned is crucial, is indeed pure white bread.”

Andy nodded solemnly and turned to the ‘camera’ again, “This proves her bravery. Many would eat wheat bread out of fear of their own human frailty, but our Queen proves herself to hold her belief that she is invincible. Now, the obvious following question would be: What is your preference pertaining to the flavor of jelly. Another vital ingredient, and one all of the nation is dying to know your opinion on.”

“For the sake of the people,” she said into the fork, facing the same direction as he, “I will divulge my opinion on the matter. I love concord grape jelly, and I endorse this treat with all of my Queenly power.”

“Amazing,” he told the ‘camera’. “We understand you have an incredible amount of duty heavy on your shoulders and therefore ask only one more thing of you. The most important of all questions we have included here this afternoon…” Andy made the most direly, insanely, serious expression he could, even going so far as to slam his free hand onto the table, looking the girl directly in the eyes. “What… type… of… peanut butter?”

“I quite agree that this is the most monumental question you’ve yet asked,” she said, her own voice taking on a somber tone, “and my answer is…”

As she paused for dramatic effect, Andy began exaggeratedly wringing his hands as if he were waiting to be told whether or not he was to receive the death sentence. “Please! We are holding the parade outside, stopping production of Christmas presents, and asking that NASA stop the Earth spinning, all so that we may know your answer!”

“Very well,” she sighed dramatically, “my choice is Skippy. Super chunk.”

Andy spun to face the ‘camera’ again, his expression elated, “You heard it here first! The Queen possesses outstandingly fantastic taste! Continue with your daily lives now, but remember that this day will go down in history books for decades to come!”

He placed his fork on the table and looked at the girl. It was silent. And then, all at once, they both burst into raucous laughter so loud and boisterous that every person in the building turned to shoot them dirty looks. Neither of them cared, however, and it felt like hours later that they were able to pull themselves together, wiping tears of mirth from their cheeks, and try to stabilize their breathing. Occasionally they would meet each other’s eyes and begin another wave of chuckles, but as their ribs ached and they were sure they’d gained a six-pack, they stopped. Apparently waiting for the noise to subside, a new waitress approached their table apprehensively.

“Would you like to order?” she asked, trepidation obvious in her voice.

Andy ordered two ‘royal sandwiches’ and glasses of milk. He felt like a child again, which was actually something very nourishing to his currently wounded soul. He couldn’t force his lips to flatten, no matter the amount of effort he put forth, and he decided smiling was just fine with him. He still studied her, both of them silent until their food came. She tore into hers and halfway through, her face hot again, she looked up to him. Her cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk and she chewed quickly, washing it down with milk, and bashfully looked up again to see Andy’s plate still mostly full.

“Sorry,” she muttered, apparently thinking Andy wasn’t eating due to her lack of manners.

“Please, I live most of my life with four or five other grown men, I have seen way worse from them over a bag of chips,” he shivered, making her smile a little. She returned to eating but for some reason glanced toward the door as a bell sounded. Someone, a few men actually, walked in the door and her face went white as a sheet. Andy looked furtively between the men, who hadn’t yet looked their way, and the girl. She looked close to tears, but not out of sadness, more so out of fear. Andy dropped his voice to a murmur, “Hey, what is it? Who are they?”

“I have to go,” she responded distractedly, grabbing her bag and starting to leave until Andy’s hand shot out and grabbed her forearm without his own permission. “Let me go, I’m serious.”

“No.” She tried to pull away but before she could register what was happening there were a too many bills sitting on the table and he was pulling her discreetly between tables, headed for the kitchen. Confused, she followed, and just as he pulled her through the steel doors to the back she saw the men look up and wasn’t sure whether or not they’d seen her. “C’mon,” Andy said hurriedly, but his long legs made his strides too much for her to keep up with. Hidden behind the dishwashing station, he waited for her to catch her breath. Then, he saw it. Two of the men were emerging from the same doors they’d used, looking around menacingly, clearly searching for the girl. He knelt down, “Get on my back, now.” But she looked skeptical. “I swear to God, you’ll be fine, but only if you do what I say. Otherwise I have no idea what’ll happen.”

She chewed her lips rings, her eyes darting between the men fast approaching and Andy’s pleading expression. In another blink, she was on his back and he began to sprint through random workers. They emerged, by use of the emergency exit, onto the street but Andy didn’t slow until they’d reached the block from which they began. Apparently they’d spent longer inside than he’d realized as it was twilight outside. Panting, Andy halted on the far side of the bus, hidden from view though he knew they’d lost the guys a while before. Andy looked desperately at the girl as she slid to her own feet shakily, her palm against the side of the bus as she attempted to steady herself.

“Are you okay?” he asked, panicked.

“‘M fine,” she huffed, looking all around where they stood as if Death himself would pop out at any given moment.

“Great,” he mumbled, turning to completely face her and rising to his full height. “Now, what the actual fuck was that?!”

“Forget it,” she said breathlessly. Astounded at her ability to simply keep going and pretend problems didn’t exist, Andy’s jaw hit the curb.

“I sure as hell won’t forget that! Seriously, talk to me or I’ll find answers for myself, even if I have to get cops involved.” Andy could hear himself distantly, as if listening through a keyhole to a conversation taking place behind closed doors. Did he really sound that authoritative? He swore he just sounded like his father.

The girl shot him a withering glare, standing up as well and setting her shoulders confidently, “They can’t help you. As far as anyone knows I died six years ago. No one even knows I exist,” she spat.

Andy swallowed this information quickly, his tone instantly becoming softer as he approached her once more, “Please, please talk to me. I think I’ve proven myself trustworthy. Please, kid, I’m drowning here.”

She looked him over, slowly and surely, taking it all in. Was it the thought that she had nothing to lose or the indescribable pull she felt that caused her to do as she did? She couldn’t say. All that she could say was: “If you breathe a word you might as well put a bullet in me yourself. Understand?”

The gravity of what Andy was twisting himself up in hit him in that moment. As he nodded, he leaned back against the bus, sliding down until he was sitting on the concrete of the parking lot. She looked sympathetically at the man falling apart before her, wondering what it was like to be shocked by what had become so commonplace to her. She sunk down to sit beside him, both of them facing the side of a brick building that held a dry-cleaners that was closed. Andy had his knees up in front of him, spread out, and his arms set atop them. He looked stressed.

“That was a client. It’s fine to see them out and everything, but that guy was a big deal. And he only ever brings the two who followed us, his sort of guards I guess, if he’s out to get someone. And that someone was me today. I did the drop that would go to one of his lesser crew members earlier today. I– I thought everything went fine, I have no idea why he was after me but he was—”

“What do you mean by ‘clients’?” Andy asked, unsure whether or not he actually wanted an answer.

“I do runs for the other main crew, just like errands and stuff–”

“Holy shit,” Andy breathed, something dawning on him right then and there. “Oh my God.”

“What?” she prodded, surely he hadn’t gotten so upset over just that little of information. If this was how he handled the small things then she’d never be able to tell him the major ones.

“Hold on,” he responded, on his feet and out of sight before she had time to give him an incredulous look. What could he possibly think was important enough to leave her after he’d pitched such a fit for her to talk in the first place? Andy returned, his expression somewhere between fear and guilt. He didn’t sit, instead he paced back and forth in front of her, “I did something stupid. I followed you today, even after you told me to fuck off,” he didn’t leave time for her to cry out in outrage as she wished, just plowing on through his speech. “I saw you in that liquor store, I saw what you did, but I misunderstood. I fucked up so bad. This is all my fault.”

Rising to her feet, the girl stepped in his pathway, forcing him to still. She looked up at him with wild, fearful eyes that still seemed threatening. “What exactly do you mean?”

In place of a response, Andy pulled from his back pocket a foil chip bag. The chip bag. Ignoring the promise of Hot Cheetos on the package, she opened it to reveal exactly what she’d placed there that afternoon. She’d taken the money, she’d given it to Sammy, and the client didn’t get the product in return. She was a dead woman walking.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Her voice was hollow even to her own ears, she suddenly wished she’d remained sitting as her knees felt weak.

Andy spat out an explanation quickly, “I thought that you were buying or trading or something. I thought you were getting drugs for yourself. Like I said, I misunderstood! I thought I was protecting you. I–”

“I don’t need to be protected! All you’ve done is gotten me on two drug lords’ hit lists! I’m going to be killed!” She was just short of screaming, only keeping her voice down in case someone passed and recognized her, but panic and fear spread though her like wildfire. She was even feeling a sting behind her eyes, her lip quivering, and realized that for the first time in years she was about to cry. It seemed fitting really, she was living on borrowed time. She was supposed to be dead years ago, she knew death was out to get her. She was shocked she’d gotten as far along as she had. And now crying didn’t seem that terrible, there’s no such thing as shame or inhibitions to someone on Death Row.

Andy wanted desperately to just pick her up, to hold her, to make it okay. But he’d done this. It was his fault. And it would be his responsibility to fix it. “No, you won’t.”

She looked up at him as though he were mad, “You don’t know these people! They will seriously murder me! With no regret at all! They’ll be wearing a fresh shirt and having dinner with their own kids by nightfall! You don’t get it!”

“I won’t let them–” Andy began, but she cut him off.

“Right, because you acting on my account went so well the last time,” she scoffed, holding up the Cheetos bag as evidence.

“I’m not an idiot, okay? I’m saying, you won’t be here for them to kill. You’re coming with me.” And as he said it he realized he’d never been as sure about anything as he was about this. It wasn’t even a question.

“No, I won’t–”

This time it was Andy’s turn to cut the sentence short, “Yes, you will. Look at me,” he grabbed her upper arms lightly and knelt down so that they were almost eye-level, but she was still looking around them with all of the sense she could muster up through a haze of fear, “look at me.” She did, and he watched as the tears she’d fought began to spill over. “You don’t know me. But I can’t possibly be worse than what’s waiting for you if you chose to stay. Please, I can’t let you go get killed over something I’ve done. Come with me.”

She bit her lip, a sob choked back as she bore her eyes into Andy’s. “Felicity.”

“Pardon?” he asked, blinking in shock. What the hell did that mean?

“That’s my name. Felicity Amelia.”

Andy felt that same twinge, that sense of deja vu, but this time he ignored it. He nodded, “Okay, Felicity. Are you coming?”

Felicity nodded, a small bob of her head, but it was enough for Andy. His emotions were so strong and so forceful that before he knew it he’d wrapped her up in a hug, her tears dampening the chest of his Nirvana tee. He held her close, both of them wrapped up in that moment, until he heard her cries subside amidst sniffles.

“Then let’s go,” Andy concluded, standing but keeping her in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, feeling more comforted in that second than she could ever remember in her life. This was it. It might possibly be okay, just maybe. Andy walked to the bus’s door and kicked it to get someone’s attention. The door swung open to reveal a thoroughly surprised Ashley, but Andy just shook his head at his bandmate. “Later,” he said, and Ashley stood aside to let the pair of misfits in the midst of matching mental break downs inside.

Notes