Chapter Text
He doesn't like being alone with his father. Bud works the days, and his mom sometimes works nights. She says it's better this way, that he can be with someone all the time, but he doesn't like it. His father gets grumpy a lot. He smells like the icky stuff in the can.
Other nights, his dad is strangely clingy, not letting him out of his sight, holding on too tight and constantly touching him, and while that doesn't always end up hurting him, when it does, it seems worse.
And even if he did his schoolwork with his mom during the day, he has to go over it with his dad in the evening. Bud always has other lessons for him to learn, and he never likes them.
They hurt.
He asks once why he didn't go to school like other kids.
His father doesn't answer, but he still never asks again. It hurts too much.
As first kisses went, that was everything Veronica had dreamed about and yet nothing at all like she'd expected. She'd thought it would be something hesitant and embarrassing, sloppy or bumping into each other, even if it was sweet and romantic. What he did when he took hold of her face was completely in his control, and if he didn't know what he was doing, he didn't show it at all. He was insistent, demanding, like he couldn't get enough of her, and she admittedly wanted more of him.
She could feel his coat under her fingers, and she wondered if she was brave enough to move her hands down and underneath it, under his shirt, even. Would he have any muscles? Hair?
Her legs felt all rubbery, like they did after a long run in gym—she was so not an athlete and she envied Heather McNamara how easy she made that stuff look—and it was getting harder to breathe.
That didn't mean she wanted to stop. She didn't.
He did finally pull back just a little, resting his head against hers as he drew in a breath. She tried to think of something to say and couldn't. She'd ruin everything if she said, “wow.”
That was the only thing coming to mind.
Well, that and do me, but she so wasn't saying that here to a guy she barely knew, even if he was the most interesting person she'd ever met. That didn't say much, really, since she didn't travel much and everyone around here was about the same as they'd been when she was in elementary school. Meaner, but the same people.
She decided words weren't necessary now that she had some breath back, so she kissed him, pulling him close and trying to make it as good for him as it had been for her. She didn't know what she was doing, of course, but she liked the taste of him, even if she could tell he was a smoker—there was a hint of ash mixed into it.
He pulled away again, this time much further, and he blinked, as though he had no idea what they'd just done.
“Um...”
She tried to smile. “That was...”
“I have to go,” he said, and she frowned, not sure what to make of that. He'd just kissed the hell out of her—twice, even if the second time was her doing—and he was going to leave?
“School starts in like five minutes.”
“Less,” Duke muttered, and Veronica's cheeks flushed to remember that she and the others were there, not that she hadn't been a bit warm from the kiss.
“I told you. Not going,” he said, not looking at her as he walked away, cutting across the lawn toward the street.
Veronica started to go after him, but Chandler caught her arm, coming around to block her path.
“Don't even think about it. Not that you were thinking when you kissed him, but you are not going after him. That's just pathetic. Get over it. Forget him. He's not worth it.”
“He did kind of... leave you,” McNamara said, putting her hand on Veronica's shoulder to comfort her. “Not really a good sign. Maybe he didn't like the kiss.”
Veronica was almost sure that wasn't it. She'd been close to him, and everything she knew about kisses and boys said he'd liked it a lot, but he'd left afterward so awkwardly that she couldn't make sense of him. She wanted to, because that was intense and wonderful and she wanted it again.
And she wanted to know why he'd run off on her.
She had to find him. She needed to know so much more about him, not just why he'd kissed her or why he'd left. Everything.
Hell, she'd settle for his name.
He'd call it making a dramatic exit if anyone asked, not that they would, but if they did, that's what he'd say. He wouldn't admit to what it really was—running off like a damned coward. He didn't want to be one, but his mind had chosen the absolute worst thing to remember in the middle of kissing a pretty girl he couldn't stop thinking about, and he'd had to flee.
He couldn't let anyone see him if the panic got him. He was pathetic and stupid when it did, and if he cried in front of her, she'd only laugh at him. Her friends would for sure, and he wouldn't ever live that down, just like he hadn't in half a dozen other schools.
He stopped against a tree down the street, taking a few breaths to steady himself. He could sometimes head these things off, get himself under control, but it took a lot of work and usually didn't last. Once he got set off, he'd be on edge for a while and every new little thing could push him right over again.
He closed his eyes, digging in his coat for his cigarettes only to come up with an empty pack. Fuck. He would be out now. That was just perfect, wasn't it?
He shook his head at himself and started walking again. It could help, though it rarely did. He didn't like being this out in the open and exposed. He had nightmares about that, too, about walking along and having his father snatch him off the sidewalk, dragging him into a car—a van, it was almost always a van, one of his work ones with the dark panels and tools inside. He'd be stuck there, looking up at the tools, knowing his father could use any of them to hurt him...
He stopped, forcing himself to breathe again. If more of his nightmares were just dreams, he'd have an easier time of things. Unfortunately, too many of them blended into things that had happened. His father had found him before, on his own, yanked him into the van and hurt him.
JD needed to find some place without memories, someplace safe. He didn't know many—any of those kinds of places, but he did need more cigarettes and the convenience store would have a slushie, too. He could get both there, and he kind of liked those stores for some odd reason.
Nowhere was safe, but it was nice enough.
He crossed the street, cutting across toward the center of town, to the commercial center and shops, away from the quiet suburbs and school. He was going to need a lot more than cigarettes, though he knew his mother's bottle in the room was empty.
He'd checked.
He didn't know if he could swipe one from the liquor store, but he was willing to try it. He wouldn't even mind the stuff that came from the convenience store, though he usually ended up in places with slushie machines more than once, and he knew that going back after stealing something was just stupid.
No, he should do it somewhere else, ditch his coat and put on a hat, make it harder to recognize him if anyone spotted him again. If he had money, he might try buying one, since not everyone bothered with checking ID, but it was a lot easier to get away with buying cigarettes than it was alcohol.
And even if it wasn't, he didn't have much in the way of money, only the emergency fund he was supposed to use if they had to run separately, and he couldn't afford to spend that.
He hated this, all of it.
He hated himself even more, coward that he was.
“So I hear you're easy,” Ram Sweeney said, leaning against Veronica's locker. “You let any old guy kiss you right in front of everyone.”
Veronica glared at him, aware of everyone watching them. Chandler gave her a slight shrug as if to say she'd brought this on herself. She supposed in a way she had, but that didn't mean that she deserved to have Ram accusing her of anything or around her, period. She wasn't easy, and a kiss didn't make her that. She could kiss who she pleased—and yes, she'd chosen to kiss a guy she didn't know the name of—but she had that right.
She wouldn't be shamed.
“What, Ram? Are you sad he didn't kiss you?”
“What? No. Gross. I'm not a faggot.”
Veronica just shrugged, walking away from him and into the restroom. She went to the sink and splashed water on her face. She hated this place so much sometimes. She didn't like her friends, didn't like herself.
She did like the boy, she thought, but she barely knew him. Maybe that was part of his appeal.
After the bell rang and the other students filled away into classrooms, Veronica left the restroom. She'd done this before, cut second period, since she didn't have class with any of the Heathers then. She knew they'd give her crap if she stayed gone all day, but she didn't know that she even cared anymore.
She was tired of being Heather Chandler's project, tired of jock jerks like Ram, and tired of faking smiles so she could pretend she wasn't miserable all the time.
She left the school and headed out into town. She didn't know where the new kid lived, and he didn't look like someone from that new subdivision going in behind Martha Dunnstock's house. They were probably renting, if anything.
She knew of some apartments, more toward downtown and the poor side of Sherwood, which would be another reason Chandler wouldn't want her having anything to do with this kid. She didn't care. She wanted to know him, at least to have a name to go along with the memory.
She made her way up the sidewalk, trying to think of where else he might have gone. He didn't seem to have a car or any other kind of ride, not a bicycle or anything, so he would have walked, and he would have been somewhere along this route...
She sighed. She was an idiot. She wasn't going to find him like this.
Though, she thought as she looked back at the convenience store, she might as well make ditching worth her while and get a snack. If she picked up some barbeque corn nuts, Chandler might be a little nicer. Not much, but some.
It might even be worth it.
JD was still debating with himself about the beer in the refrigerator when the bell dinged to tell the clerk there was someone else in the building. Out of habit, he looked over. He couldn't help it—any new person in any room always had some chance of being his father, and he had to know.
It wasn't his father.
It might even be worse.
Her.
Veronica.
How had she known to come here? How had she found him? He didn't understand this. He'd left. He was going to avoid her for the rest of their stay here—which was going to be short because he was going to tell his mother they had to leave tonight—and that was the end of it.
He wasn't supposed to see her again. Ever.
And yet he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She hadn't noticed him yet, her eyes not searching the room the way his always did no matter where he was. She was headed for a specific rack, one thing on her mind, and he liked her single-mindedness. He envied her that freedom, the not looking over her shoulder constantly like he did.
He hadn't even realized he'd moved toward her until he was way too damned close. No matter what he did, it would be awkward. She was about to see him, and there was no way of avoiding it. He was going to get noticed and make a fool of himself. Again.
So he spoke, and he didn't know where the hell it came from, but it stumbled out of his mouth anyway? “Are you gonna pull a super-chug with that?”
She looked up at him, blinking in surprise. “No, but after that kiss, I think the least you could do is buy me a slushie.”
Fuck. She liked slushies, too. Well, who didn't? They were great. The best of the best. They tasted great and were addicting as hell. Sometimes he thought he was more hooked on them than he was cigarettes, and he already knew he couldn't quit them.
“You kissed me back. I think you owe me the slushie.”
“No that would make us even.”
“Fine, we're even,” he said, though he did want a slushie and couldn't really afford to spend what little he had on one. That was why he'd been considering stealing the three-two beer from inside that cooler.
She shifted her feet, looking about as nervous as he was. “I see you know your convenience-speak pretty well.”
He supposed that was a safe enough topic compared to asking him why he'd kissed her. “Yeah, well.. I've been moved around all my life... Dallas, Baton Rouge, Vegas... Sherwood, Ohio. There's always been a 'Snappy Snack Shack.' Any town, any time: pop a ham-and-cheese in the microwave, and feast on a turbo dog. Keeps me sane.”
“That why you said you weren't staying?”
He nodded. “Usually not around for more than a couple days. Week at the most.”
She looked like he'd sucker punched her. That or kicked a puppy. “I don't... then why were you at school? Why did you kiss me?”
“The extreme always seems to make an impression.”
“Oh, you made an impression all right,” she said, and he studied her, trying to understand her tone. Was she angry or interested? He knew he shouldn't want the second, and leaving her with the first would be easier—for her, at least. “You're making me crazy. Since I've met you, my life has been complete chaos.”
“Chaos killed the dinosaurs.”
“My point exactly.”
He smiled. “Oh, I think you like it. That's why you're mad. You like my kind of chaos.”
“And if I do?”
Hell if he knew. He had to leave, but he wanted to kiss her again, and maybe this time the memories of his father wouldn't ruin it. “Did you say a cherry or coke slushie?”
“I didn't... Cherry,” she said, but then she put a hand on his chest. “Only if—and this is a big if—you start making sense for a change.”
“Can't promise that.”
“Don't kiss me again.”
“Can't promise that, either.”