Falling
Authors: L C Smith
FALLING
By
L C Smith
Copyright © 2012 by L C Smith
at Smashwords
Cover Image: Copyright © 2012 by Hayley Lee
This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from L C Smith.
For Greg – My life and love.
For Hayley – The kind of sister everyone should have.
Love is a funny thing; there’s the kind that’s like you’re five and you’re looking up at your Mum’s face as she reads you a bedtime story.
Then there’s the kind that makes you nervous and twists in your stomach.
Then there’s the kind that makes you feel like you’re holding everything of worth in your hands.
That was the worst movie I could have gone to by myself, but that’s what happens when your only family is your aunt who lives five hours away and your only close friend is a junior and isn’t allowed out unescorted even on a Friday night.
I could make other friends, that wouldn’t have helped tonight, I snuck out the window and it would just be another person I would have to keep my secret from. It’s hard enough keeping it from just one person.
Especially when this happens.
My body slips forward without thinking about it. At least this one looks nice, they don’t always. Nice suit, nice shoes. Hair done, but not too done. I pause slightly as he slows down to cross the street, but my mind races ahead checking all the possible points I can jump into him. Once this happens I can’t stop it, the impulse moves my legs for me.
I snake around a group of people who left the movies at the same time I did.
My body reacts at the same moment his does. He stops on the side of an alley and answers his phone. Out of habit I quickly look around to check if anyone is watching. My hand flies out compulsively, like I want to ask him a question, and in less than a quarter of a second I am absorbed by his body.
“I’m fine.” He slurs into the phone. “I on the corner of …” he closes one eye looking up for a street sign. “Eighth Street. In an alley thing.” He puts a hand out and leans against the wall. He snaps the phone shut, shoving it into his pocket and leans over.
My face screws up. My head's telling me that I shouldn't look because it’s gross, but my eyes won't look away, like when you’re driving past a car accident, you know you should look away, but you just can't. The gory images pull you in, practically calling your name. ‘Reid, look. How will you be able to sleep later without first filling your head with grossness?'
He doubles over, heaving again.
“Aw, that’s just gross.” I move my head away so I don’t have to look at it.
The man lifts his head in response, looking for the person talking to him. His heavy looking head swings slightly one way, and then lists back the other. He looks sea sick and he empties his stomach one more time before groping at the wall, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes half closed.
I'm so disappointed. He looked so nice; it all hides the puking machine tucked neatly inside.
“Where's he?” A woman's voice slurs from somewhere outside the alley.
“In here.” I shout back.
“Huh?” He staggers another step.
“You can't see me, I’m inside you.” I explain. There’s no way he’s going to remember this is the morning.
“Where?” He slurs and stumbles a step further toward the exit.
“Yeah, keep going. You feel fine.” I say, trying to copy the sound of his voice.
“I do.” He announces, standing bolt upright, then promptly turns around and heaves all his manliness away.
“You’re fine” I say quickly. “She’s leaving.” I can hear the footsteps that were near the alley walking away.
We both lean forward as he heaves again, I pull my face to the side. The longer he keeps going, the more the smell is leeching into a taste in my mouth.
My face screws up after the wind whips up the smell, I wipe at my tongue with my sleeve, trying to get the taste scrubbed out.
“Come on.” I shout at him. Once I’m inside a person, they only seem to hear me well when I speak real loud.
The guy staggers to lean on the alley wall again. “Take more steps.” I command him.
He stumbles to a stop, holding the wall for support, he looks around. Then he takes another few steps, before falling out of the alley.
That’s good enough for me, I dive forward, tumbling out of him, hitting the ground just before he does.
“You all right?” I ask rolling to the side to stop him falling on top of me.
“Sorry han. Didn't see you.” He slurs at me.
“All good, don't worry about it.” I look both ways to find the woman that come looking for him.
“Can you call your girlfriend or something?”
“I dunno, but you are pretty. You gonna come back with me?” He reaches for my face, his hand swinging like a dopey bear.
“Unlikely.” I was going to get his phone out of his pocket, instead I lift my hand, “Taxi.” I shout into the night.
One stops at the kerb. I pull and kind of roll-shove him into the back seat.
I look at the driver. “Sorry. I don't know him. But he needs to get to wherever home is.”
He sighs a pained sound. “And who’s going to pay me lady?”
“I don't even know him, he knocked me down, and passed out on the pavement, what was I supposed to do leave him there?”
“Yeah.” The driver looks at me like I'm an idiot.
“Man. You.” I wave my hand in front of the guys' face. “Do you have any money?”
“Why do you want my money pretty girl?” He touches my hair. Argh, I know where that hand has been. I duck away quickly from his groping.
“To pay the driver, idiot. You're puking on the street. Give the driver some money.” I tell him.
“Okay, pretty girl.” He salutes me then flakes out across the back seat snoring. I'll take that.
“Money’s in his pocket I think.” I say to the driver.
“I hope he doesn't spew everywhere. I won't be able to finish my shift.” The driver complains while I shut the door and wave like I care what he said.
“Mm, that would be sad.” I mouth, pretending concern for him while I watch them drive away. Just in case he decides to come back with the man, I want a head start so I can hide.
“'Scuse me, love.” A guy bumps past me. “Have you self a happy night.”
He points at me, winking and walking backward from the rest of his group. Must be time to go home. The crazy people are starting to come out. I look down at my watch. Oh man. One already. That guy spewed for half an hour. I need to find a bus home.
The library is a block down that way, and I think there is a stop on the next corner that will take me back to school. I walk briskly up the street while I make my plan, looking directly at no one. I can see the stop, but there is a big group of people collected around the sign. I pull up a little way off from them, pushing my fingers into my pockets and playing with the buttons on my phone. I look at my feet, trying not to move and draw any attention to myself. I can feel people looking at me, but I hold my eyes down.
A minute passes in silence. The bus should be here real soon, it comes every fifteen minutes, until one thirty.
“Stop looking at my boyfriend …” A girl’s voice loudly calls at me from somewhere. I swing my eyes up in surprise, because unless she is dating the pavement, I'm not looking anywhere near her boyfriend.
“You stop lookin' at him,” she says again.
I squint through the group. There’s a girl stumbling in my direction, pushing people out of her way, dragging him along behind.
“My boyfriend’s real hot, so you stop. You're tryin' to steal him from me, and I'm not going to let you, 'coz he's mine.” She grips his arm to illustrate that she owns him. Then stops like she can't remember what she was about to say.
I look away trying really hard to stop myself from smiling.
“You. You stop givin' me that,” she continues.
I really have to stop coming out at night. There's just the crazy-people out. And I'm a crazy-people magnet.
Oh crap. I take a quick step back as she swings her fat fist at my head.
“I wasn't lookin' at your boyfriend.” I say quickly, dodging my head to the side.
She stops swinging because she is out of breath. Come on, that's just pathetic. She exerted herself for all of three seconds. One swing of her arm above her waist, and she’s panting. She’s two more swings away from a heart attack.
“What, he not hot enough for you pretty girl?” She pants.
No, he's filthy like you. Clearly if he was hot, he wouldn't be with you moron.
“No, he's plenty hot enough,” I say. “I just wasn't looking.”
The bus pulls up and the group surges around it. I push myself to the front and force my way on before she can remember who she was talking to.
* * *
We move quickly through the dark, empty streets, the bus pulling into the stop outside the school. Nice. He could have stopped at the one before it, which is why I pressed the buzzer for that stop, not this one. What kind of an idiot gets off the bus directly in front of the school they are trying to sneak back into.
I walk slowly to the front of the bus trying to get a new plan together. I was going to come through the side, the trees are really thick there, so no one should have noticed me.
I get off the bus, the driver gives me a disapproving look. Yeah I know.
I jump off the last step of the bus and keep running, through the gate and into the school grounds. Now, if I was some kind of super hero, I would fly my way up, silently remove the window, and duck through, while using my strangely strong hearing and night vision to make sure no one was around. Replace the glass, just as silently, and slink my way back to my room, completely unheard.
