OC Fic : Empty Diary (9/11)
Title : Empty Diary
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Car accident. Ryan. Amnesia. There, that's clear, isn’t it?
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N. This fic wouldn't be seeing the light of day if it hadn't been for Joey's enthusiastic comments and invaluable help. Thanks, again!
I've been downright spamming you all recently. Sorry. fredsmith518 asked :-)
Chapter Eight
Ryan spends the rest of the day holed up in his room, curtains closed, willing away the rest of the world.
After being knocked into a wall, he expected a bad headache. To his surprise, the pain remains manageable, even though he doesn't feel up to packing and heading back to San Francisco yet.
Still, maybe the fact that he didn't develop a migraine is a good sign. Maybe it means that the worst side effects of the accident are fading away. Well, all except for the big one, but now that he has met his mother and AJ, Ryan can understand Trey's point of view on amnesia a little better.
The jury is still out on whether or not he agrees with it.
Still, no headache is good. Probably the one good thing that happened today.
Well, that and the fact that he got his answers.
Too bad these answers were so painful to get.
Too bad he didn't believe Trey's warnings.
Too bad he didn't ask the Cohens to come with him.
Thinking about the Cohens makes him want to hide under the covers in shame.
He had never planned on lying to them about his little adventure in Southern California, but he had hoped to gloss over some of the details if things went wrong. Unfortunately, his face will render all lies futile. The way his eye is swelling, he'd have to stay in Chino for at least a week before it fades enough to go unnoticed.
Not gonna happen.
And fuck, but isn't that the way his luck goes?
There's no way the Cohens aren't going to see what happened, and the Technicolor proof he's carrying on his face will paint a very good picture for them.
Sighing, Ryan rolls over in the bed, wincing when the movement puts pressure on his side. He still hasn't checked what it looks like.
It feels bad enough.
In fact, there isn't really any part of him that doesn't ache right now-his arm, his back, his side, his head, all protest every time he moves.
He screwed up.
He knew he was screwing up as soon as he stepped on that bus, as soon as he made the decision to come, even, and there's no way he can avoid the Cohens finding out the full extent of what went down here.
Just.
Fucking.
Great.
***
Sandy's timing is perfect.
Ryan's phone starts to ring just as he steps out of the bus in San Francisco.
"Are you okay?" Sandy asks first.
Ryan doesn't think his "yes" is very convincing.
Too bad.
It's the best he can manage.
Sandy heaves a deep sigh, leading Ryan to wonder whether the man is angry, worried, or both. "Where are you?"
"At the bus station."
"I'll be here in twenty minutes. Sit tight."
Sandy hangs up before Ryan can utter an apology, an explanation, or anything at all. For lack of anything else to do, he sits, head down, backpack between his feet, and waits for Sandy.
He hurts all over, he hasn't slept a wink since that disastrous little scene in Dawn's house, and he looks like he has been through a war.
Hell, he feels like he has been through a war.
Ryan has carefully avoided thinking about the Cohens' reaction during the trip back, but Sandy is on his way, and Ryan is torn between the need to feel Sandy's arms around him, and the urge to hide from him until he feels and looks human again.
He doesn't want Sandy to see him like this.
He doesn't want Sandy to think about all the other times Ryan must have looked this battered in the past.
He doesn't want anyone to pity him or be compassionate.
He doesn't want anyone to reach out to him, touch him, comfort him.
He doesn't want anyone to tell him things will be all right.
He's terrified that no one will tell him that things will be all right.
He doesn't want anything but to forget about what happened, pretend it didn't happen, and now he understands why he never told anyone before.
Now he understand why there's nothing in the file, why Trey looks like he's at the end of his rope.
Now he understands why he never told the Cohens about his past when he still could.
Maybe he even understands why he went with his brother to steal a car, why he did something so monumentally stupid.
When he remembers Dawn's tears and words, AJ slamming him into the wall, kicking him while he was down, he just wants to forget everything.
Or hit something.
Or scream.
Or lie and pretend it doesn't hurt, because if he can pretend he's doing well, if he can pretend nothing that happened in Chino affects him, maybe that'll mean that that scumbag hasn't won.
***
Half an hour has passed when Sandy finally arrives.
Ryan is still looking at the ground and doesn't look up when he sees a pair of legs appear at the edge of his sightline.
Sandy crouches in front of him, calling softly, "Kid?"
Ryan tries to brace himself for Sandy's reaction and looks up.
Sandy frowns and grimaces and sighs all at once. He puts a finger under Ryan's chin, making him raise his head a little higher.
"Who did that?" he asks calmly, like he already knows the answer.
Which, of course, he does.
"My mother's boyfriend," Ryan says, each word feeling like it's being torn from him, leaving a bleeding void behind.
Sandy releases Ryan, sits next to him. "Headache?"
Ryan shakes his head, eyes glued to a spot on the wall, just above a map of the town. Anything to avoid having to meet Sandy's eyes.
"How do you feel?" Sandy insists.
"Stupid." Ryan's voice cracks. "I'm sorry."
Sandy's voice sounds tired when he replies, "It's okay."
"No, it's not," Ryan snaps. And even if Dawn had acted like a mother, even if things had gone well in Chino, he'd still feel bad for running from the Cohens like that. "I'm… I didn't mean to…"
He closes his eyes, exhausted.
"What happened?" Sandy asks. And again, Ryan has the feeling that Sandy already knows, and just wants to hear Ryan say it.
"Her boyfriend was there. He kicked me out. And she…" His fists clenched on their own accord at the mention of AJ. He opens them and stares at his outstretched hands for a little while before finishing, "She just sat there." He's surprised at how sad his voice sounds.
Sandy pulls him close and Ryan tenses up when his hand comes to rest on his back-his side hurts more but his back is bruised from when he hit the wall, and Sandy's gentle hand makes him grit his teeth to avoid grimacing.
He masks his reaction and rests his head on Sandy's shoulder, amazed that the man is still offering comfort, after everything.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathes in deeply.
No matter how much he wants to lick his wounds in private and deal with all of this alone, it feels good to accept Sandy's help.
"Did you find the answers you were looking for?" Sandy asks at last, releasing him.
Ryan thinks about Trey, and Dawn crying, and AJ slapping him around. "No," he whispers. Because, really, how could things get so bad? Where did it all go wrong? Then, because he may still be as confused as before, but he at least understands himself a little better, he adds a hesitant, "Yes."
Sandy nods as though that makes sense. "Ready to go home?" He pats Ryan on the back, making him grimace.
Sandy starts frowning again. "Ryan?"
"I'm fine," he tries.
Not that he expects Sandy to believe that one.
Sandy stares at him for a beat then takes his arm and leads him to the nearest public restroom bathroom-which is thankfully deserted.
"Show me," he orders as soon as the door has closed.
Ryan feels his cheeks burn but lifts his T-shirt to allow Sandy to see his side.
Sandy swallows, clenches his jaw, and Ryan takes a look at himself in the mirror. The bruise is dark against the pale skin, looking more painful than it really is.
He lets his hand drop, his T-shirt hiding the bruise again.
Sandy approaches him carefully, almost like he'd get close to a frightened animal, and raises an eyebrow. Ryan nods, allowing Sandy to take a look at his back, lifting his sleeve to show him the finger marks AJ left on his biceps.
"I'll call Sam when we get home," Sandy says at last. His voice is carefully controlled, but Ryan can hear the fury beneath it.
He opens his mouth to protest.
Sandy beats him to it. "That's not a suggestion."
Recognizing the battle is lost, Ryan follows Sandy to the car, rests his head on the window and for the first time in over twenty-five hours, he falls asleep.
***
He spends the next day either sleeping or dozing off.
He barely regains consciousness when Sandy pulls up at the house and leads him inside, doesn't notice Kirsten until he feels her hands on his shoulders, guiding him upstairs.
He wakes up fully when the doctor starts prodding him, answers a few questions, then allows the quiet discussion the doctor has with the Cohens to lull him back to sleep.
He wakes up again when something cold is applied on his side.
"What?" he manages to mumble.
He vaguely hears Kirsten explain that the doctors gave them something to put on his bruises, to help with the swelling and the pain.
He can't muster the energy to ask anything else, or even to move enough to help Kirsten, so he just sinks back into oblivion.
When he eventually wakes up coherent enough to notice where he is, the sun is rising and Sandy is peeking in through the half-opened door.
"Kid?" he calls softly.
"Yeah."
Sandy tip-toes in the room, closes the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"
Ryan makes a mental inventory, decides that it could be worse and shrugs. "Okay."
Sure, every part of him feels sore, but the pain isn't so bad now.
Sandy looks understandably doubtful. "I mean, how do you really feel?" he clarifies.
"It kind of hurts." Just not as much as getting beat up in the first place, and certainly not as much as the memories of Dawn telling him that she didn't think it was a good idea for him to come back.
"Sam said it would take a few days." Sandy sits on the bed and clasps his hands on his thighs. "And while I think about it, you're never going to a friend's house in the woods ever again. Come to think of it, you're never going anywhere ever again. Consider yourself indefinitely grounded."
Ryan nods.
He'll probably find it harsh later on, but right this moment, he can live with that.
"How did you find out?" he asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.
Getting caught was inevitable, but he hopes that Matt didn't get into too much trouble.
"You had told us you'd come back into town around ten, and you'd call us then so we could come pick you up. We waited an hour after the time you were supposed to call, then we called Matt. He spilled very fast."
"You didn't?" Ryan isn't sure what he's asking, but Sandy understands anyway.
"No, I didn't call his parents. I probably should have, but he was very worried about you, and I think he has suffered enough. But I will have a long discussion with him."
Ryan opens his mouth, sees Sandy's resolved face and gives up.
He just hopes Matt will forgive him.
Sandy's obviously not done yet, though it takes him a long time to actually ask, "What did you think you were going to find out down there?"
Ryan swallows, at a loss for words. He knew that question was coming, knew Sandy would ask it eventually, and he still doesn't know what to say.
So, he goes with the truth.
"I wanted to know. I didn't understand…" I didn't want to believe. Alcoholic mothers who abandon their kids, abusive boyfriends, jail, drugs… That only happens in movies, in books by Dickens. Not to normal people, not to… me. "I thought, maybe…" I thought maybe you were wrong. I thought there had been a mistake somewhere. I thought life in Chino couldn't have been so bad. I thought my own mother would love me and want me if she saw me.
How fucking clueless can I be?
He trails off without answering Sandy's question, miserable.
"I wish there was something I could do to make this easier for you," Sandy offers. "But there was nothing I could do last time, and there's nothing I can do now."
You do make it easier, Ryan wants to say.
You help, and I'm sure you must have helped me before, even if I can't remember it.
If you were to my past self even half of what you are to me now, you helped.
As usual, the words stay stuck in his throat.
Sandy gets up, leans down and ruffles Ryan's hair softly, quickly, and it's only when he reaches the door that Ryan finds it in him to call him back.
"Sandy?"
"Yeah."
Sandy's hand is on the door, and Ryan has to say this now, or he'll lose the courage, and who knows how long it'll be before he finds it again. So, he takes a deep breath and tries to keep his voice firm.
"You do help."
Sandy looks surprised for a moment, then he nods, smiling sadly.
"Thanks," Ryan adds.
"You're welcome, Ryan."
***
Ryan goes back to school four days later.
The bruises are changing into some interesting and spectacular colors, but at least they've stopped hurting.
Unfortunately, Ryan's escapade has had more consequences than a few blows.
Kirsten looks about to cry every time she sees him; Sandy still looks furious-and Ryan's almost relieved that most of the anger isn't directed at him. It's not that he thinks Sandy would hurt him. It's just that he'd rather not take any chances, and if one little "disagreement" with AJ makes him feel this vulnerable, this jumpy, this untrusting, what kind of mess must he have been when he met Sandy for the first time?
When Julia sees him, she hugs him, then smacks him upside the head, then hugs him again. "This is so the last time I let you talk me into one of your stupid plans."
Matt sighs and says, "Your guardian is pretty cool. He didn't say anything to my parents."
Steve takes one look at him and asks him if he found what he was looking for, reminding Ryan of Sandy. "I guess," he says.
There's a tense silence, broken by a smiling Julia-her smile vaguely reminiscent of that of a shark moving in for the kill. "So, how long are you going to be grounded?"
"Sandy said I wasn't going anywhere ever again, but I think he was joking."
"For what it's worth, my money is on 'until graduation day,'" Julia teases.
Matt looks at Ryan thoughtfully. "I'm thinking until the day he leaves home to get into college."
Steve chuckles but doesn't say anything, prompting Ryan to ask, "Okay, out with it. What do you think?"
"Wedding day", he replies dead-pan. "If you're very lucky and they like the bride."
Shaking his head, Ryan walks away from them, jokingly complaining about their lack of support, allowing their easy banter to soothe him into some semblance of normalcy.
Chapter 9
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Car accident. Ryan. Amnesia. There, that's clear, isn’t it?
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N. This fic wouldn't be seeing the light of day if it hadn't been for Joey's enthusiastic comments and invaluable help. Thanks, again!
I've been downright spamming you all recently. Sorry. fredsmith518 asked :-)
Chapter Eight
Ryan spends the rest of the day holed up in his room, curtains closed, willing away the rest of the world.
After being knocked into a wall, he expected a bad headache. To his surprise, the pain remains manageable, even though he doesn't feel up to packing and heading back to San Francisco yet.
Still, maybe the fact that he didn't develop a migraine is a good sign. Maybe it means that the worst side effects of the accident are fading away. Well, all except for the big one, but now that he has met his mother and AJ, Ryan can understand Trey's point of view on amnesia a little better.
The jury is still out on whether or not he agrees with it.
Still, no headache is good. Probably the one good thing that happened today.
Well, that and the fact that he got his answers.
Too bad these answers were so painful to get.
Too bad he didn't believe Trey's warnings.
Too bad he didn't ask the Cohens to come with him.
Thinking about the Cohens makes him want to hide under the covers in shame.
He had never planned on lying to them about his little adventure in Southern California, but he had hoped to gloss over some of the details if things went wrong. Unfortunately, his face will render all lies futile. The way his eye is swelling, he'd have to stay in Chino for at least a week before it fades enough to go unnoticed.
Not gonna happen.
And fuck, but isn't that the way his luck goes?
There's no way the Cohens aren't going to see what happened, and the Technicolor proof he's carrying on his face will paint a very good picture for them.
Sighing, Ryan rolls over in the bed, wincing when the movement puts pressure on his side. He still hasn't checked what it looks like.
It feels bad enough.
In fact, there isn't really any part of him that doesn't ache right now-his arm, his back, his side, his head, all protest every time he moves.
He screwed up.
He knew he was screwing up as soon as he stepped on that bus, as soon as he made the decision to come, even, and there's no way he can avoid the Cohens finding out the full extent of what went down here.
Just.
Fucking.
Great.
***
Sandy's timing is perfect.
Ryan's phone starts to ring just as he steps out of the bus in San Francisco.
"Are you okay?" Sandy asks first.
Ryan doesn't think his "yes" is very convincing.
Too bad.
It's the best he can manage.
Sandy heaves a deep sigh, leading Ryan to wonder whether the man is angry, worried, or both. "Where are you?"
"At the bus station."
"I'll be here in twenty minutes. Sit tight."
Sandy hangs up before Ryan can utter an apology, an explanation, or anything at all. For lack of anything else to do, he sits, head down, backpack between his feet, and waits for Sandy.
He hurts all over, he hasn't slept a wink since that disastrous little scene in Dawn's house, and he looks like he has been through a war.
Hell, he feels like he has been through a war.
Ryan has carefully avoided thinking about the Cohens' reaction during the trip back, but Sandy is on his way, and Ryan is torn between the need to feel Sandy's arms around him, and the urge to hide from him until he feels and looks human again.
He doesn't want Sandy to see him like this.
He doesn't want Sandy to think about all the other times Ryan must have looked this battered in the past.
He doesn't want anyone to pity him or be compassionate.
He doesn't want anyone to reach out to him, touch him, comfort him.
He doesn't want anyone to tell him things will be all right.
He's terrified that no one will tell him that things will be all right.
He doesn't want anything but to forget about what happened, pretend it didn't happen, and now he understands why he never told anyone before.
Now he understand why there's nothing in the file, why Trey looks like he's at the end of his rope.
Now he understands why he never told the Cohens about his past when he still could.
Maybe he even understands why he went with his brother to steal a car, why he did something so monumentally stupid.
When he remembers Dawn's tears and words, AJ slamming him into the wall, kicking him while he was down, he just wants to forget everything.
Or hit something.
Or scream.
Or lie and pretend it doesn't hurt, because if he can pretend he's doing well, if he can pretend nothing that happened in Chino affects him, maybe that'll mean that that scumbag hasn't won.
***
Half an hour has passed when Sandy finally arrives.
Ryan is still looking at the ground and doesn't look up when he sees a pair of legs appear at the edge of his sightline.
Sandy crouches in front of him, calling softly, "Kid?"
Ryan tries to brace himself for Sandy's reaction and looks up.
Sandy frowns and grimaces and sighs all at once. He puts a finger under Ryan's chin, making him raise his head a little higher.
"Who did that?" he asks calmly, like he already knows the answer.
Which, of course, he does.
"My mother's boyfriend," Ryan says, each word feeling like it's being torn from him, leaving a bleeding void behind.
Sandy releases Ryan, sits next to him. "Headache?"
Ryan shakes his head, eyes glued to a spot on the wall, just above a map of the town. Anything to avoid having to meet Sandy's eyes.
"How do you feel?" Sandy insists.
"Stupid." Ryan's voice cracks. "I'm sorry."
Sandy's voice sounds tired when he replies, "It's okay."
"No, it's not," Ryan snaps. And even if Dawn had acted like a mother, even if things had gone well in Chino, he'd still feel bad for running from the Cohens like that. "I'm… I didn't mean to…"
He closes his eyes, exhausted.
"What happened?" Sandy asks. And again, Ryan has the feeling that Sandy already knows, and just wants to hear Ryan say it.
"Her boyfriend was there. He kicked me out. And she…" His fists clenched on their own accord at the mention of AJ. He opens them and stares at his outstretched hands for a little while before finishing, "She just sat there." He's surprised at how sad his voice sounds.
Sandy pulls him close and Ryan tenses up when his hand comes to rest on his back-his side hurts more but his back is bruised from when he hit the wall, and Sandy's gentle hand makes him grit his teeth to avoid grimacing.
He masks his reaction and rests his head on Sandy's shoulder, amazed that the man is still offering comfort, after everything.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathes in deeply.
No matter how much he wants to lick his wounds in private and deal with all of this alone, it feels good to accept Sandy's help.
"Did you find the answers you were looking for?" Sandy asks at last, releasing him.
Ryan thinks about Trey, and Dawn crying, and AJ slapping him around. "No," he whispers. Because, really, how could things get so bad? Where did it all go wrong? Then, because he may still be as confused as before, but he at least understands himself a little better, he adds a hesitant, "Yes."
Sandy nods as though that makes sense. "Ready to go home?" He pats Ryan on the back, making him grimace.
Sandy starts frowning again. "Ryan?"
"I'm fine," he tries.
Not that he expects Sandy to believe that one.
Sandy stares at him for a beat then takes his arm and leads him to the nearest public restroom bathroom-which is thankfully deserted.
"Show me," he orders as soon as the door has closed.
Ryan feels his cheeks burn but lifts his T-shirt to allow Sandy to see his side.
Sandy swallows, clenches his jaw, and Ryan takes a look at himself in the mirror. The bruise is dark against the pale skin, looking more painful than it really is.
He lets his hand drop, his T-shirt hiding the bruise again.
Sandy approaches him carefully, almost like he'd get close to a frightened animal, and raises an eyebrow. Ryan nods, allowing Sandy to take a look at his back, lifting his sleeve to show him the finger marks AJ left on his biceps.
"I'll call Sam when we get home," Sandy says at last. His voice is carefully controlled, but Ryan can hear the fury beneath it.
He opens his mouth to protest.
Sandy beats him to it. "That's not a suggestion."
Recognizing the battle is lost, Ryan follows Sandy to the car, rests his head on the window and for the first time in over twenty-five hours, he falls asleep.
***
He spends the next day either sleeping or dozing off.
He barely regains consciousness when Sandy pulls up at the house and leads him inside, doesn't notice Kirsten until he feels her hands on his shoulders, guiding him upstairs.
He wakes up fully when the doctor starts prodding him, answers a few questions, then allows the quiet discussion the doctor has with the Cohens to lull him back to sleep.
He wakes up again when something cold is applied on his side.
"What?" he manages to mumble.
He vaguely hears Kirsten explain that the doctors gave them something to put on his bruises, to help with the swelling and the pain.
He can't muster the energy to ask anything else, or even to move enough to help Kirsten, so he just sinks back into oblivion.
When he eventually wakes up coherent enough to notice where he is, the sun is rising and Sandy is peeking in through the half-opened door.
"Kid?" he calls softly.
"Yeah."
Sandy tip-toes in the room, closes the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"
Ryan makes a mental inventory, decides that it could be worse and shrugs. "Okay."
Sure, every part of him feels sore, but the pain isn't so bad now.
Sandy looks understandably doubtful. "I mean, how do you really feel?" he clarifies.
"It kind of hurts." Just not as much as getting beat up in the first place, and certainly not as much as the memories of Dawn telling him that she didn't think it was a good idea for him to come back.
"Sam said it would take a few days." Sandy sits on the bed and clasps his hands on his thighs. "And while I think about it, you're never going to a friend's house in the woods ever again. Come to think of it, you're never going anywhere ever again. Consider yourself indefinitely grounded."
Ryan nods.
He'll probably find it harsh later on, but right this moment, he can live with that.
"How did you find out?" he asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.
Getting caught was inevitable, but he hopes that Matt didn't get into too much trouble.
"You had told us you'd come back into town around ten, and you'd call us then so we could come pick you up. We waited an hour after the time you were supposed to call, then we called Matt. He spilled very fast."
"You didn't?" Ryan isn't sure what he's asking, but Sandy understands anyway.
"No, I didn't call his parents. I probably should have, but he was very worried about you, and I think he has suffered enough. But I will have a long discussion with him."
Ryan opens his mouth, sees Sandy's resolved face and gives up.
He just hopes Matt will forgive him.
Sandy's obviously not done yet, though it takes him a long time to actually ask, "What did you think you were going to find out down there?"
Ryan swallows, at a loss for words. He knew that question was coming, knew Sandy would ask it eventually, and he still doesn't know what to say.
So, he goes with the truth.
"I wanted to know. I didn't understand…" I didn't want to believe. Alcoholic mothers who abandon their kids, abusive boyfriends, jail, drugs… That only happens in movies, in books by Dickens. Not to normal people, not to… me. "I thought, maybe…" I thought maybe you were wrong. I thought there had been a mistake somewhere. I thought life in Chino couldn't have been so bad. I thought my own mother would love me and want me if she saw me.
How fucking clueless can I be?
He trails off without answering Sandy's question, miserable.
"I wish there was something I could do to make this easier for you," Sandy offers. "But there was nothing I could do last time, and there's nothing I can do now."
You do make it easier, Ryan wants to say.
You help, and I'm sure you must have helped me before, even if I can't remember it.
If you were to my past self even half of what you are to me now, you helped.
As usual, the words stay stuck in his throat.
Sandy gets up, leans down and ruffles Ryan's hair softly, quickly, and it's only when he reaches the door that Ryan finds it in him to call him back.
"Sandy?"
"Yeah."
Sandy's hand is on the door, and Ryan has to say this now, or he'll lose the courage, and who knows how long it'll be before he finds it again. So, he takes a deep breath and tries to keep his voice firm.
"You do help."
Sandy looks surprised for a moment, then he nods, smiling sadly.
"Thanks," Ryan adds.
"You're welcome, Ryan."
***
Ryan goes back to school four days later.
The bruises are changing into some interesting and spectacular colors, but at least they've stopped hurting.
Unfortunately, Ryan's escapade has had more consequences than a few blows.
Kirsten looks about to cry every time she sees him; Sandy still looks furious-and Ryan's almost relieved that most of the anger isn't directed at him. It's not that he thinks Sandy would hurt him. It's just that he'd rather not take any chances, and if one little "disagreement" with AJ makes him feel this vulnerable, this jumpy, this untrusting, what kind of mess must he have been when he met Sandy for the first time?
When Julia sees him, she hugs him, then smacks him upside the head, then hugs him again. "This is so the last time I let you talk me into one of your stupid plans."
Matt sighs and says, "Your guardian is pretty cool. He didn't say anything to my parents."
Steve takes one look at him and asks him if he found what he was looking for, reminding Ryan of Sandy. "I guess," he says.
There's a tense silence, broken by a smiling Julia-her smile vaguely reminiscent of that of a shark moving in for the kill. "So, how long are you going to be grounded?"
"Sandy said I wasn't going anywhere ever again, but I think he was joking."
"For what it's worth, my money is on 'until graduation day,'" Julia teases.
Matt looks at Ryan thoughtfully. "I'm thinking until the day he leaves home to get into college."
Steve chuckles but doesn't say anything, prompting Ryan to ask, "Okay, out with it. What do you think?"
"Wedding day", he replies dead-pan. "If you're very lucky and they like the bride."
Shaking his head, Ryan walks away from them, jokingly complaining about their lack of support, allowing their easy banter to soothe him into some semblance of normalcy.
Chapter 9