The Tattooed Flower

18. Loser

"Life is a difficult game. You can win it only by retaining your birthright to be a person."

- A. P. J. Abdul Kalam

Quinn-

It's hard to leave Matthew and Dave's apartment, mostly because I would do anything to spend even a second longer with that little girl. She's like magic and I know how cheesy that sounds but it's true. My mother would say that she has an "old soul", she's wise and outgoing. She's just like the waves, unafraid and unashamed. Caleb is driving now, one hand lazy slung over the steering wheel, while the other holds my hand tightly over the console. He got this stupid grin on his face and his eyes are like lights.

I see the hotel come into view, the fountain sparking at the entrance. I watch Caleb blow right past it. "Caleb? You missed the turn." I inform him, glancing back at the hotel as it grows smaller in the distance.

"No I didn't." He affirms, still smirking like and idiot. I shake my head and lean back in my seat, lolling my head in his direction.

"Where are you taking me." I inquire. He just looks at me beaming. A face that says: don't-worry-you'll-love-it. "C'mon tell me?" I whine. He shakes his head and I cede my patience to him. The ride is silent, but silence with Caleb doesn't feel like silence. It feels like acknowledgement. A time to think.

I turn on the radio, "Tomorrow, August 24th, you can expect warm air and sunshine, a beautiful day for..." August 24th?

"It's the 23rd?" I burst out. Caleb eyes me quizzically.

"Yes." He answers, hesitantly. Oh. Wow. "Why?"

"It's my birthday." I test out the words slowly, they don't feel real, or at least it doesn't feel like I'm aloud to use them. I guess when I ran I felt like I lost my right to age. Like running made me less of a human. I guess that of all the things a person can lose, the ability to age is not one of them. Caleb beams at me even brighter than he had been before, like he already knew. "How did you know?"

"Quinn you're a fugitive, your information is all over the internet." He muses, saying it like it was obvious.

"So you googled me?" I suggest dumbfounded.

He nods. "Yup, basically."

I shake my head and look at him, watching his dark profile against the light of the Vegas Strip. I wish my mother could see this. I wish she could see the beautiful sparkle of lights and meet people like Dave and Matthew. I wish she was here with me. My mother never leaves the house, and though I hope some of that has changed, I doubt it. She was always hidden away in that house, surrounded by all the terrible things in the world. She rarely got out to see what's good, what's beautiful. I wish she could see this, could see Caleb.

I miss her, I miss my home. And I know how stupid that makes me. My house sucked. It royally sucked. But, that house wasn't my home, my dad wasn't my home. He didn't count, he didn't get to count. My mother was my home, Taz was my home.

Now I'm sitting here trying to find a home with Caleb. And I want that; I want to be with him. He wants me with him. But, even though my past breaks my heart, it's so hard to say goodbye to what I've known.

After a while we're driving down winding roads and empty streets, I haven't got the faintest idea of where we're going, but I know that I'm ready to be there. I'm tired and worn out. All I want is to fall asleep in Caleb's arms. I watch the scenery pass us by, the darkness shrouding everything out into dull silhouettes.

"Are we close yet?" I gripe, teasingly, just as we pull into a long narrow driveway. "Caleb, where are we?"

"Moapa Valley." He confirmed. "Do me a favor and put this blindfold on." He says digging in his glove compartment.