"I've been thinking about what you told me earlier today."
We're sitting in the Cafe in the upstairs of the BOrder's Books, sharing a mocha.
"You know, about Alisha."
All during today, I've been trying to forget about last night.
And Alisha.
In my imagination, Alisha is at home, blandly watching MTV, too bored or lazy to do anything else.
"And even though I really didn't like her."
Outside, through the windows to the left of us I can see people step out of their cars and into the rain, then run to the entrance of the mall.
We're hiding from the mall's security.
"I really am sorry she's gone."
Funny; so am I.
After the guard recognized us; we took off. We ended up leaving half the fries there though. At first we walked, and ducked into a clothes shop. We hid behind a rack of those jeans that those guys were wearing.
The guard came into the store and started looking around.
Eventually we crept out of that store without him seeing us and broke out into a hurried walk.
Tami took the CD out of my discman and put it in it's case, which she put in her pocket. Then she handed me the discman which i put in my backpack. Tami doesn't even wear one.
Right about then the guard behind us yells for us to stop.
So we run.
We ran for awhile and then went into one of those two story department stores. We ran in, losing sight of the guard behind mannequins which were wearing the latest styles.
As quickly and stealthily as we could, we made our way to the escalators that led to the upstairs of the store.
The bueaty of a two story mall is that the two story stores have two or more doors, one at ground level, and one up top. Once upstairs we broke into a run to the door and out into the crowd. Yelling our apologies to those we hit as we passed through.
Eventually we made our way to the Borders, and upstairs to the table. "No one deserves to die. Not even a prep backstabber like your sister." Thank god Tami isn't into eulogies.
That's nice i tell her. Real nice.
She asks to borrow my discman again which I procur from the depths of my backpack and hand to her. She pulls out her newly aquirred CD and puts it in, skipping to track 6.
She offers me the rest of the mocha but I decline, she shrugs and drains the rest of it in one swallow. Licking her lips afterwards in what I assume is appreciation.
Of the taste mind you.

I'm looking out the window again, noticing how the rain is coming down harder, and the water drops that used to cling to the window have long since been replaced by a thin film of water.
It ripples with the headlights of each passing car.
Suddenly, I realize i'm tired.
A combination of running and the bookstore's warm climate. So i take off my sweatshirt I'm wearing and go to the corner of the store; away from the clerks' view. I prop the back behind me as a cushion and put the sweatshirt in a bundle between my head and the wall.
I call this the Cheap Bastard LayZBoy.
In minutes I'm asleep; the store's dull, nonoffending music my lullaby.
Who cares how much time passes by?

I wake up because i have a dream.
My dreams are normally dull, black and white, not worth the effort to remember. This one wasn't.
Picture this, you're in pitch dark. No light. It's so dark ehre you don't know if your enclosed or in an infinate space.
Depth and meaning have no place here.
So there you are, finally accepting the fact you're alone.
Abandonned.
So you sit down and rest your head in your hands. They've become your only support.
Very slowly you start to cry.
Suddenly there is light.
Your tears glow with a bright white light.
They drip off your cheeks and onto the ground.
They start to grow.
One grows long, and round, and starts to twist itself until you realize you're staring at a noose.
The next doesn't get tall, but round, and in little black letters prescription names appear.
The third grows long and sharp.
Before you know it, you're surrounded on all sides by these agents of evacuation. A forest of death.
You start to realize the blackness wasn't so bad.
Open your eyes.

My eyelids flutter open and I shift, a note flutters down off the top of my head to the ground and I pick it up. In Tami's neat handwritting it reads
"Sorry I had to leave, my mom came into the store looking to pick up a book for my dad and saw me. She told me I had to leave with her. I hope you make it home alright, call me later tonight.
Tami-
P.S. Don't get caught groping the mannequins... They have feelings too."

It could be worse; I guess.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I stand up and put my sweatshirt back on.
I love this thing.
Three years ago, Dan, one of my mom's more friendlier boyfriends, brought it home for me. He was at his job's Lost and Found looking for his workout sneakers when he found it on the shelves that make up the lost and found area. He brought it home and gave it to me laughing.
It was huge back then when i was 14.
It's still too big now.

My love for garmets aside, Tami leaving does presnt a sligh, if not huge problem.
When you hitchhike, you find that people don't liek to pick up guys.
When you're 17, and broke, you can't afford to drive, so you hitch like Tami and me.
Hitching with Tami is simple; I'd stand behind a bush or in a ditch while Tami threw out the universal sign for 'Pull over and give me a ride'.
Once a car did stop, I'd come out from hiding and smile as disarmingly as i could at it's occupants. Usually their sense of obligation comes over them and they give us a ride.
Usually.
My smile doesn't work too well sometimes; inspiration for a hiaku.
One time a man threw his half empty bottle of Coke at me, reached over, slammed his door, and drove off. Leaving me to yell at his tailights with Tami looking sad.
Thankfully these occurances are rare.
But they still have the potential to make an already bad day worse.
Regardless, I exit the mall, pulling up my hood to stay dry that much longer. Outside it's a regular freakshow storm.
I walk through the rows of the cars to the exit of the parking lot; there's only one exit and it's always packed.
I stand by the signal light's pole and stirke out my hand and thumb. Every driver i try to make eye contact with; I recieve nothing but shaking heads. Down the road i can hear the protest for clones still rage on.
I'm already cold and shivering.
ANother few mintutes pass and I find myself repeatedly pulling my hands in and blowing onto it to keep it warm.
Finally a steamed up window rolls down and a vaguely familar face appears. "Where you heading?"
It's our favorite impressionist drive this car; alone.
Once inside i look her over. Her white pants have dark maroon spots on them. Her shirt has flakes of a darker blue. Her pony tail has dissapeared and was replaced by a dishelved looking style.
"Where to?" She asks again, raising an eyebrow.
I tell her.
She can only get me as far as the nearest town.
THis is fine I tell her.
I'm still amazed.

I got home alright. Three strangers. Three different cars.
And no bad incidents.
No half empty bottles.
"Tell me more about the blonde."
I'm on the phone with Tami, it's about 10:30 at night.
I got home 5 minutes ago.
My mom's door was shut.
Well, turns out her name was Helen, and she's sorry for making fun of Tami. Real sorry.
She said she knows what it's like now to feel like a freak.
After security took the two boys away her freinds immediatly left and went home.
They didn't want to be seen in public with blood all over them.
Small problem.
Helen's brother's birthday is tomorrow and she had to stay in the mall and go buy his gift.
Helen said it was like being in a night mare. You know the one; where you're naked in a crowd and everyone is examining you and you can't do anything about it.
She had to go all the way to the other side of the mall to get to her brother's favorite shop.
Every step she took people watched.
Scrutinized.
Judged.
She was truly powerless. The entire way there she caught snickers from fellow kids.
Some even bursted out in full blown laughter.
Even inside the store, where the customer is always right, the clerks looked down their nose at Helen.
And she was truly sorry.
I tell Tami all this and she laughs.
She tells me about when she got home her dad had gone all out with a new cook book.
Or at least tried.
When her and her mom got home the smoke detector was going off.
Her dad was in tears, holding a wash rag over his arm.
APparently no one had told him not to drop the pork chop in the grease, but instead you should gently place it in.
I'm about to say something but a call waiting beep rings through, so i click over.
A female's voice asks if Norm is there.
I have to ask her to repeat the name, and then I tell her to hold on a second. I knock on my mom's door and ask if a Norm is in there, a muffled man's voice tells me to hold on.
This type of thing happens more then you should know about.
So i click back over to Tami and tell her i have to go.
She says her goodbye, but before she hangs up I ask "Tami?"
"Yea?"
"The mannequins liked it."
We both laugh.