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Penney Drive was, as one might say, the prettiest street in all of Mentor, Ohio. Each house was identical, with the same faded brick walls, dark grey roofing, and light brown front door. In front of every house, there were flowers in the yard. Although the sameness of a street can often make for a lovely aesthetic, a sense of discomfort comes with it. As Finn Organa walked down Penney Drive, he felt that discomfort.
His footsteps were the only thing he could hear as he walked down the smooth pavement. The steady decline of light caused the same shadows to appear over the identical houses, making him feel like he was stuck walking on a treadmill past the same, saccharine backdrop. That was one thing he wouldn’t miss about that town.
The sky was slowly getting darker, the bright blue of afternoon fading into pale peachy colors as Finn approached his house. Something about the colors of the clouds in the sky made him uneasy as well. He waved politely to Mrs. Amidala across the street, then took a deep breath and walked into his front yard, suddenly exhausted. He didn’t want to go inside and see the emptiness of the house he’d grown up in. Small rows of idyllically bloomed tulips and wilting daffodils lined the perfectly laid brick walkway up to the opened door. Lining the beds of flowers under the windows were impeccable lilac trees, each holding their own memory to him. Finn sat down on the neatly mowed grass, not caring if it stained his khaki shorts green. He sat, eyes closed and legs crossed, and vaguely dozed off in the warm 70° weather. He didn’t want to leave, even though he had to.
A soft crash echoed quietly, and Finn was jolted out of his trance. Right next to his yard, he noticed a girl in his driveway, kneeling down on the dark asphalt next to the wall of his neighbor’s house. The girl looked unfamiliar to him, which was strange, as Finn knew everyone on Penney Drive. Her hair was in a high ponytail that hung over her face, and she was wearing a sweatshirt that was way too big for her.
Finn didn’t know what to do. He was too socially awkward to talk to her, and his parents weren’t home. They were in London, getting their new house ready before he flew out the next day. He stood up, walking over to her. As if she could sense him coming, she stood up, holding a Polaroid camera in one hand.
“Hello,” she said brightly, waving her camera-less hand. She was shorter than him by a few inches, but most people his age were. There weren’t a lot of six foot tall fifteen-year-olds.
“Hey,” Finn responded, slightly weirded out. Most people weren’t so bubbly to a person they just met. This girl wasn’t most people, he guessed.
The girl smiled awkwardly at him, and then knelt back down to pick up an undeveloped photo from the pavement. Finn stood next to her, trying not to tower over her, as she shook the film.
“Um, who are you?” he finally asked, not able to bear the awkwardness any longer. The girl looked up at him, a sly yet sheepish smile across her face.
“Oh,” she said, standing up again and holding out her hand. “Hi. I’m Rey. Rey Sætre.”
“Finn Organa,” he responded before adding, in an attempt at conversation, “Sætre? That’s an interesting name.”
“It’s Norwegian,” she said coldly.
“That’s cool.”
“Yep.”
The conversation had suddenly disappeared, and Finn didn’t know why. The girl’s bubbly smile was gone, and she stood, shifting her weight back and forth while fiddling with the strap of her camera. Finn sighed, as there didn’t seem to be a way to salvage it.
A loud bang echoed over the street, followed by a sharp shriek.
“Was that a car backfiring?” Finn asked, looking around, confused.
“No!” The shout came from across the street as Mrs. Amidala jumped out of her chair. “That was gunshot!”
“What?” Finn asked. She had to be joking. This was Ohio; nothing like that ever happened there. Besides, she was kind of crazy.
“Get in your house. Now!” she yelled, slamming her door shut. Finn could hear the lock clicking even from far away.
“For an old lady she can sure yell loudly,” Finn joked, turning back towards Rey. She wasn’t there. He looked up at the house to see her sprinting towards the door, the scrunchie in her ponytail falling down.
“Get in your house!” Rey yelled from his porch, holding the front door open while looking worriedly around. “Jesus, Finn, come on!”
Her voice scared Finn so much he didn’t even think about how she was in his property, again, as he ran to the door. Rey closed it behind him, bolting it shut. She then started to run around the house, closing and locking windows. She didn’t seem to notice the lack of furniture. He didn’t know why she was making such a big deal about this. It was obviously a car backfiring, right?
“I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal of this,” Finn said loudly, leaning against the bannister as Rey ran up the stairs. “Mrs. Amidala’s like eighty years old; she probably didn’t know what she was hearing. It was just, a car backfiring, I think.”
Finn looked up at the second floor landing where Rey was going around, still closing and locking windows.
“Listen,” she said as she ran into his room. “Once your father’s tried to shoot you as you’re climbing out the back door, you’ll know what a gun sounds like. That was a gun.”
Finn stopped, his arm dropping off the staircase. A shock went through him, a fuzzy feeling starting in his head and going down to his feet. His stomach fell. Rey didn’t seemed to be fazed by telling him, as she ran down the stairs past him.
“Are there any other entrances to the house?” she asked him as she ran into the kitchen. He couldn’t speak.
To be honest, he didn’t know why. He wasn’t usually a very empathetic person, especially not to people he wasn’t close to. Sure, he’d feel bad about the things he saw on the news about the wars in Iraq and Iran, but not a deep sorrowful feeling. He could never understand how people cried during movies or books. Once people at his high school noticed this, the more literate guys would call him a cynical perv, which was only half true. The less creative ones would just call him gay, which bothered him the most. This was probably why he wasn’t close to anyone at school.
“Yo, Finn!” Rey said, waving her hand in his face, jolting him out of his second spacing out session of the day. “Are there any other entrances to the house?”
“Uh, yeah. In the basement,” he said, pointing at the door next to the pantry. She ran down the stairs with such an intensity that Finn could feel the steps vibrating from the kitchen. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about this, though. I mean, sure, it’s a gunshot, but it’s probably just Ben from down the street. He has a gun; it probably just went off.”
The steps from the basement stopped.
“Finn, I don’t want to alarm you, but I don’t think you understand the situation. I know Ben. He has a gun license, and is incredibly responsible with his gun. Now, I’ve been in this town for almost six months, and there has been zero crime since I’ve been here. Zero. The only explanation for this is that some psycho with a gun is on the street. Are you gonna be serious now?”
Finn shook his head. It wasn’t true. She was lying; he shouldn’t trust her. He tried to control his breathing, telling himself to stay calm, but it wasn’t working. There was someone on Penney Street with a gun. He started to hyperventilate, his mind going numb.
He didn’t respond. He couldn’t speak. His breath echoed in his head like sci-fi movie doctors in hazmat suits. He gasped for air as everything went dark.
It was much darker outside when Finn woke up again. He was lying on the floor of what used to be the dining room, an old blanket haphazardly placed on him. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing all day, with the exception of his shoes. The clock that was permanently attached to the wall read 11:02 PM on it. Maybe it had been a dream, he thought. Maybe while he was walking down the street, someone had been smoking something weird and he’d inhaled it.
He’d convinced himself of that until he walked down the stairs and found Rey huddled on the living room floor under a blanket in front of his TV. Blankets and the TV were the only things left in his house, as his mother didn’t think their cheap blankets and TV from the 70s were necessary to bring all the way to London. The local news channel was playing on a low volume, showing the same blonde and busty reporter he saw everywhere. She held an absurdly large microphone as she stood on the interior of the news building.
“The inner regions of Mentor are all on high alert as a 911 call reported gunfire on Penney Street. A young man has been recovered from the scene with critical injuries, and is being transported to the Cleveland Clinic. He has yet to be named. Although the incident happened on only one street, police have advised all people in Mentor to stay indoors. We’ll keep you updated, and stay safe. Back to you, Steve.”
Then it hit him again.
“Finn, don’t pass out again!” Rey whispered loudly, shutting off the TV and running over to him. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him to the floor, putting a blanket over him. She sat across from him as he took deep breaths.
“This can’t be real,” he said quietly, letting his head fall to the floor and closing his eyes, hoping this would all magically go away. He felt a hand touch his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Rey said softly.
Finn sighed, and slid to the wall. He was more afraid than he had ever been, even more than when he went to see Poltergeist in theatre with his friends back when he was eight.
There is a major distinction, he realized, between real life and fiction. He’d always known this, the cynical guy he was, but experiencing something real made it so much clearer. The nightmares he’d had after Poltergeist were horrifying, but he knew this experience would haunt him forever. He leaned against the wall as Rey moved to sit only a few feet away from him.
“It feels like a spider crawling up your back, doesn’t it,” Rey said quietly. Finn smiled in acknowledgement. The feeling of something small crawling up his back was amplified as he thought about the fact that there was probably someone creeping around his house.
“It really does,” Finn whispered.
They sat in silence. He didn’t like the silence.
“I’m moving tomorrow, and I don’t want to leave.”
Rey cocked her head at him. “What?”
“I don’t like silence, especially not now. It feels more aggressive than talking, even now, when we’re supposed to be quiet. So, since I’m leaving tomorrow, can I tell you personal things, without judgement, to make me not feel so anxious?”
“Okay,” Rey said without hesitation.
“Okay.”
She paused, then asked, “Where are you moving?”
“London,” he said, and Rey smiled. “That’s why my parents aren’t here, and the house is so empty.”
“I was wondering about that. But why don’t you want to move to London? I would drop everything for a chance to move to London.”
Finn sighed again. “I don’t know. I mean, I have so many memories here, you know? I don’t want to just leave basically my entire childhood here.”
“You don’t really have friends, though.”
Finn whipped his head to face her, vaguely angry. How did she know that? “How do you know?”
“I live here. I go to your school.”
“Right,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. He vaguely remembered seeing her face in the halls. She didn’t really hang out with anyone, like him.
“What I don’t understand,” she said, cautiously, “is why you want to stay.”
Finn didn’t really either. He had never really liked it there, not even with the good memories he’d had in his front yard. In fact, most of his experience, especially in school, had been awful.
“Maybe it’s like ‘graduation goggles’, or something,” he said. “You know, when, even after how much you hated high school, when it comes time to graduate, you want to stay.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“I don’t know, like, you feel safe. You don’t have to face something new, you know?”
“But do you feel safe here?”
“Well, no, not really, but…” he trailed off as Rey smiled at him slyly. She’d won their debate.
“Finn, maybe it’s time for you to start new. Maybe moving will be good for you. You could make friends,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. He laughed. He wasn’t good at making friends.
“What about you?” Finn asked, quickly changing the subject. He didn’t like to lose arguments. “What’s your deal? What’s something deep and meaningful you have to say?” She chuckled and looked away, blushing. Without thinking, Finn asked, “Why did your dad try to shoot you?”
Immediately, he wished he could take it back. That isn’t the sort of question you ask people, why their dad was violent. Rey’s face turned stone cold, and she looked close to tears. God, why did he ask that? He needed to think before he spoke more often.
“I’m sorry, Rey, I didn’t think--”
“He didn’t agree with my choices in life. At least, that’s what my mom told me when she called me the day after.”
Finn’s distinction between feelings from real life and fiction grew larger the more he talked to Rey. He actually felt something, nothing he could place, however, for her.
“Oh my god. I understand not agreeing with someone, but how can you pull a gun on your own daughter?”
“Not daughter.”
The room was silent after Rey cut him off. “What?”
“I’m not his daughter. I’m not a girl. That’s my deep and meaningful thing to say.”
“What?” Finn couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. He had never been in this sort of situation before.
“I may look like a girl, but, down inside me, I’m not. I’m-- I’m a boy.” Rey looked expectantly at him, her eyes wet with tears. “I’ve always thought this but I never would have told anyone. Until-- until my dad saw me wrapping my chest with a bandage. He screamed, and yelled, and called me a disgrace to the family name. He grabbed his gun. I could barely run away.”
Finn was angry. Also, sad. Also, a bunch of emotions he couldn’t name. He wanted to go back, and not talk to Rey about how much his life sucked. His life was perfect compared to hers. He, at least, had parents who loved him. Even with people relentlessly making fun of him he was physically safe, unlike her. He didn’t even know where she was living.
“Rey,” he said quietly, holding his arms out. Tears dripped down her face as she fell into his arms. The tears turned into quiet sobs as he held her close. “I am so sorry.”
Rey attempted to speak, but couldn’t get words out.
Almost a half an hour later, they were still in that same position. It wasn’t fair, Finn thought, that he got to fly to another country later that day but Rey had to stay here, in Ohio, where she didn’t seem to be safe. A slightly strange idea dawned upon him.
“Rey?” he asked. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” a small voice choked back.
“This might seem crazy, but do you want to come with me?”
“Where?”
“London.” Rey shot up from his lap.
“What?”
“I could pay for your ticket; they’re not that expensive. You could stay with me and my parents for a while until you find somewhere to live.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why would I joke?”
The sky was clear on the Sunday morning after the police said the town was safe to be in. The assaulter, they said, had been caught. There were no fatalities, and it wasn’t as big a deal as it had been made up to be. It was a brisk 50°, and Finn could smell rain lingering from the night before.
Even though they were safe, the sense that they were in danger still lingered. Anytime there was a sudden sound, Finn jumped. He sat on the roof of his house, his feet dangling over his front yard, as he tried to clear his mind. He’d called his parents an hour earlier to make sure they were okay with a boy staying with them for a while. Although they were rightfully shocked, they had now problem with it. There was a knock on the glass window pane, and Rey stood behind the window, motioning for him to open it. She climbed out onto the slope of the roof with him. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying. They were both seriously shaken.
“Our flight’s at 10,” Finn said absentmindedly to Rey as she leaned her head against him. “Are you ready to go?”
She was still wearing her high-waisted shorts, he noticed, and her oversized sweatshirt. Her hair had fallen from its ponytail and was sticking to her face. He watched as she fiddled with a small Lego figurine in one hand.
“No?” she said, the word seeming more like a question than an answer.
“Are you okay?” Finn asked out of habit, turning his head to face her. She obviously wasn’t. She never was, and he knew that now. Rey scoffed, and pushed her hair out of your face.
“Can you do something for me?” she asked him.
“What?”
“Can you cut my hair?”
Finn paused. He had expected her to say something much more difficult by the tone of her voice. But asking him to cut her hair was a big deal for her.
“Of course,” he said. It was the least he could do.
He helped her through the window, and they walked down the hall. He tracked muddy water across the wood floors as he grabbed a towel from the closet next to the bathroom. Rey sat on the edge of the bathtub, shaking out her hair. Finn handed her the towel, rummaging through the drawer under the sink for a pair of scissors.
“Are you ready, Rey?”
“Yes.”
Finn had never heard Rey be more definite about anything. Granted, he had only known her for about a day and a half, but he felt as though he legitimately knew her. He walked over to where Rey sat on the tub, holding the scissors. He’d never cut anyone’s hair before, but he felt as though that wasn’t something he should inform Rey. He picked up her waist-length hair in one hand. It was heavier than he’d imagined it would be, he thought as cut it at the top of her neck. The dark brown hair fell into the bathtub, the rest hanging unevenly around her head.
“It’s not short enough,” Finn muttered quietly, reaching for his father’s razor from the counter. “Don’t move,” he said, holding the sharp blade to the base of Rey’s neck. He could hear her take a deep breath as he shaved off the remainder of her ‘femininity’. When he finished, both the bathtub and Rey were blanketed with her hair. “That towel didn’t do much good, did it?” Finn joked as Rey stroked her neck. He had shaved the sides of her head, and left the top a little long. He was aiming for her to look like Morrissey.
“I’ll get you a new shirt,” Finn said, running to his room. He rummaged through his drawers before finding his The Queen is Dead T-Shirt, and a pair of old jeans while he was at it.
“You look like one of the people from the Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before video!” Finn said gleefully after she had put on his clothes. Rey shook her head, laughing almost pitifully.
“You have an obsession, Finn.”
When they reached the airport, the only time they got stopped was when a customs officer remarked, truthfully, on how odd it was for two boys of their age to be travelling alone, without luggage. Rey smiled brighter than Finn had ever seen anyone smile.