"I brought home a puppy."
Vincent was still too stunned to react to the insult as he stood at the end of the curved wall, watching the two. Rodriguez's head snapped up and he spun around on his stool to look at his mother. "What? Really?" His confused expression lit up a little with excitement.
"Yeah." A hand gestured to the direction over her son's shoulder. "He's right there, you missed him honey. We should get your eyes checked again."
Rodriguez started to grumble as he turned back around, putting his fingers on the counter he had been working on. "There's no dog…" He growled before looking just to make sure. His eyes found the dripping Vincent staring at him blankly.
Rodriguez yelped and staggered back, almost tripping on the legs of his stool. He took two prolonged steps back and then rocked slightly on his heals as he gazed at the pale teen, gasping. "That's not a puppy! I mean, he's not a…!" He spun wildly to gawk at his mother and then stared at the boy, stupefied. "That's Vincent."
The woman smirked as she turned on the stove and the blue flames jumped up instantly to do her bidding. "Yes, sweetie. I know it's Vincent. Why don't you help him out over there, I think he's cold. His clothes are all wet from wandering around in the rain."
"I wasn't wandering around." Vincent's wide eyes stayed with the woman as she poured some vegetable oil into a pan and rotated it around to spread the fat. "I was going home."
Richard snorted, moving to another counter to set up a cutting board so she could chop up a big chunk of broccoli. "That's nice. You're still wet and you're still dripping on the floor, Vincentimir. Alex probably has some clothes that you can borrow. Then he can show you to the guest room where you're going to sleep tonight."
Both of the boys stared at the woman, gapping at her tenacity. Vincent shivered a little in his wet clothes, thinking of the distance from the house to his apartment. He had only been twenty minutes from his apartment when Richard had picked him up. Now he had hours of walking time if he wanted to go home. Giving up, Vincent quietly followed Rodriguez up a nearby staircase and down the carpeted passage to the blonde teen's room. Vincent, as he stood in the room waiting for Rodriguez to pull himself away from his drawers of clothes, cringed as he looked at the shaggy carpet and saw dark smudges of dirt left by his shoes.
Rodriguez didn't notice when he threw the clothes on the bed inattentively, then flinched and got them again and gave them to Vincent. The pale face had dried during the car ride, and now only the black hair let water hit the clothes. "Rodriguez…" He said hesitantly as Rodriguez moved away to show Vincent to the guest room. "I think…my shoes… Look at the carpet."
Rodriguez glanced down and saw the dirt. He shrugged and watched his own sneakers. "Just take off your shoes…and don't worry about it. It's not really your fault."
Yes it is. Vincent sat down, reluctant to make more of a mess, and he pulled at the loose laces and yanked the converse from his feet. His socks were even worse, marked with clinging lumps of dirt or wood. Vincent stared at them, keeping his shoes on his lap. He peeled them off and frowned at the discolored water that marked his white, pruned feet. Not wanting to draw attention to it or bother Rodriguez, as he was already going out of his way to do a lot of things for him recently, the teen used the clean part of his pants, the fabric near his knees, to clean his feet. He rolled up the ends of his jeans when he saw that they were almost black, soaked with grim. Once decent for walking on the expensive looking carpet, Vincent got up and went to the door where Rodriguez was still waiting, unconscious of all that had occurred right in front of him, and they went to the guest room, flipping on a light as they walked. Rodriguez opened the door soundlessly and hit the switch that was installed next to the frame of the doorway.
"It's not very big." Rodriguez apologized, rubbing his head as he looked at the carpet.
Vincent stared at the dark navy comforter with green sheets visible where they were folded back with the comforted near the headboard of the bed. A pillow that matched the sheets was propped up against the headboard, showing off the patterned texture on the pillow case. An armoire and a dresser were placed by the wall, filling space that didn't have a picture covering the light blue paint. It was as big, if not bigger, than his one room apartment, without counting the guest room's closet. This…isn't much? "Rich fat ass."
Rodriguez jerked and scowled at Vincent.
"This room is like a freaken hotel suite. What the hell are you saying it sucks for?"
Speechless, Rodriguez was easily banished from the room when Vincent told him he was going to strip right then and there, regardless of whether or not the other boy decided to leave. Rodriguez waited outside the door until Vincent's voice drew him back into the room.
"What should I do with my clothes? If I put them down they're going to mess up stuff…" Vincent was holding the clothes out away from himself, dismayed when they dripped a little on the carpet while he struggled to not get the borrowed clothes dirty. Red eyes sought out Rodriguez's face to make sure he wasn't mad about the drops of water. "Can I borrow your washing machine? Or your dryer?"
"Uh…yeah. Give them to me and I'll go put them in." Rodriguez went forward and took the clothes out of Vincent's hands before the teen could respond, and, to Vincent's horror, Rodriguez tucked the bundle under his arm. Vincent almost swung the converse in his other hand to quickly snatch the clothes back, but he stopped in fear of flinging dirt from the shoes. Because of the distraction, Rodriguez was already out of the room when Vincent caught him.
"Wait, idiot! They're messing up your shirt..." Rodriguez moved out of reach and waved the worried hands away.
"It's fine. I'll have to wash it anyway. I might as well add in my load of laundry so that we don't waste a ton of water washing just your stuff." He noted the shoes with socks tucked into them and held out his hand. "Give me your socks and we can add your shoes too if you take out the laces."
Vincent stopped trying to take the clothes away and he walked down the stairs quietly. "You can wash shoes in a washing machine?" His questioning eyes made Rodriguez smirk and then chuckle.
"Well, yeah. You've never put your shoes in your washing machine before?"
Vincent shook his head as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The teen's bare feet padded against the cool white tiles. Once their ears became accustomed to the sound, it disappeared.
When they were in the laundry room, Vincent pulled out his laces while Rodriguez dropped the wet clothes into the open machine. He left and changed his shirt in his room before hooking his arms around his laundry basket. It creaked in his arms all the way back to the laundry room. Vincent was waiting for him, his shoes in one hand with his laces in the other, with his face showing some kind of inner conflict.
"I don't think…" He shook his head as Rodriguez put the basket down and began stuffing his clothes into the washing machine. "I'm just going to clean my shoes myself…I'm not going to put them in."
Rodriguez stopped after dropping a pair of shorts into the open lid. He looked back over his shoulder, with a frown pulling his lips downward. "Why not? It's way easier…and they get cleaner in the washer."
The black head of hair moved back and forth as Vincent refused to believe the teen. "No way Rodriguez. They're going to break your washing machine, I just know it, and I'm not going to take that chance. Alright? I'll just wash them in the sink over there." A bare foot stepped towards the deep sink at the end of the room.
"No. Hey! I said you don't need to do that!" Rodriguez dodged his laundry basket and quickly grabbed Vincent's arm, dragging him away from the sink. They struggled for a moment and then the pale teen gave up the fight, but stubbornly held the shoes out of Rodriguez's reach.
"They're going to break it!" Vincent leaned away from Rodriguez's grabbing hands.
"No." The larger boy missed the shoes again and reached around Vincent to get at them. "They aren't! I swear! And if they did it'll be my fault!"
"No!" Vincent ducked away and ran to the sink. A
hand caught his shirt and refused to let go. The boy growled as he was forced to stop. "Let go! You're going to stretch the shirt out, you stupid fat ass! It's your goddamn shirt!" He gasped and desperately tried to move the shoes out of the way, but Rodriguez got a hold of them and tugged.
"Yeah, my shirt, my washer, your shoes, into the washer, now!"
"What?" They fought to keep the shoes in their hands instead of the other's.
"Shoes…" Grunt. Tug. "…into the washer! Now!" Vincent's back was bent over the lip of the sink as he pulled on the shoes, and Rodriguez's socks slipped a little over the tiles as he yelled. "Let go! Stupid runt!"
Vincent twisted his body to tear the shoes from Rodriguez's grasp, lifting them into the air so that they almost bumped into a high stained glass window. "No way in Hell, fat ass!"
"You're being an idiot, Vincent!" Rodriguez pulled hard on the shoes and they swung down, half way over the other teen's head, and then they stayed there for a while until they were slowly brought between the two. Vincent, with a sudden yank, held them to his chest, catching Rodriguez off guard. He tugged and tugged on the shoes, but they wouldn't budge now. "Give me the shoes!" The growl demanded.
Vincent jerked with each tug, but managed to keep his grip on the shoes. "No! No way in fucking Hell!"
"Excuse me?"
Both of the boys gasped, freezing in their positions. Rodriguez kept his hands on the shoes, pulling on them when he thought Vincent was off guard. The black haired teen grunted and pulled back. He yelled to Richard over the resumed struggle. "He's crazy! He wants to break your washing machine with my shoes!"
"No!" Rodriguez finally let go, making Vincent hit his back on the sink with a hiss. The green eyes turned to the mother and the questioning look on her face. "I just want to put them in the washer and he's freaking out." He tried to explain, his hands indicating the disheveled and glowering Vincent. "Tell him they won't break the washing machine. Tell him. He won't believe me."
Richard watched Vincent look at her, waiting for her to tell Rodriguez that he was the crazy one. Instead, she shook her head and set her hand on her hip with a sigh. "Give them to me, Vincentimir."
Hesitating, the boy edged towards her, searching for her intentions in the blue eyes. The shoes were transferred to the woman's gloves. Richard nodded in thanks and then immediately threw the shoes into the open washing machine. Vincent's jaw dropped and he stared at her, devastated. "But they'll break it!" He protested urgently lifting up his hands. Richard saw the laces he was still holding and she snatched them away and tossed them into the machine as well, wiping her hands off afterwards to show that the job was finished.
"There. Much better." She smiled, amused by Vincent's desolate expression as he gazed at the washing machine. He began to fidget anxiously, and the woman shot her son a look to tell him not to make fun of the other boy before she left.
Vincent refused to look away from the machine as Rodriguez piled clothes over the shoes. "Rodriguez…take them out." The teen paused, glasses rotating to the pale features. He watched Vincent's face as he dropped in another fist full of clothes. Vincent flinched visibly. The boy did it again and again, getting the same response. Now Vincent looked like he was being tortured. "Please. You have to take them out! They're going to break it! I'm sure of it! Dead sure!"
Rodriguez pursed his lips, as if in deep thought. Then he slammed the lid closed, shaking his head. "Nope. They won't, I promise." He poured out some soup into the cap of its container and then reopened the machine and poured it in. The football jock started the washing machine and turned to watch the skinny teen pull his black hair with his leg jerking spastically as he forced himself not to run to the machine. Rodriguez started laughing despite himself, and Vincent let go of his hair and planted his feet firmly on the tiles with a weak snarl.
"Shut up, fat rich ass bastard." His fist shot out at the washing machine and his foot crashed into the floor. "Take them out!"
"No."
Vincent cursed under his breath and paced frantically back and forth for a while, glancing at the machine. Finally he plopped down on the floor with his back against the wall and brought up his knees, lacing his fingers nervously together, moving them constantly. "Then I'll just have to keep watch."
"What?" Rodriguez observed the fitful nerves, dumbfounded now by the boy's behavior. "Watch what?"
A finger pointed at the machine before returning to be twined with its brothers again. The bare feet tapped out a tuneless beat, moving in turns. Rodriguez continued to stare, guilt visiting him. Green eyes scouted about, hoping to find something else to look at as he tried to gain the courage to leave the room or find the words that would convince Vincent that there was nothing to worry about. His hand roamed through his short hair.
"Come on, Vincent…I bet dinner's almost ready." Spoke the quiet voice. Vincent shook his head. Now only one bare foot was tapping.
"If it starts doing something weird…if it starts to break…" He shook his head and closed his eyes for a second. "I'm going to sit right here so that I can take the shoes out or stop it if…it's breaking, Rodriguez. I'm not going to let my shoes destroy your washer… It's not fair."
What's fair? Rodriguez growled, becoming impatient now. He went to the other boy and stood, looming over him. Vincent wouldn't look up at his face. "Get up. Let's go eat or see if we can help my mom by setting the table."
Vincent froze, stricken by the two obligations. Rodriguez bent over and tried to lift Vincent to his feet, gripping the thin arms. Slowly, Vincent cooperated. "Fine… I'll set the table with you, but then I have to come back. Okay, Rodriguez?"
A tan hand readjusted its bronze glasses with a sigh of relief. "Halleluiah." Sighing again, Rodriguez closed his eyes and then watched Vincent for a while before they started for the kitchen. "They won't break the washer, Vincent."
The teen shook his head, stuffing his idle hands into the pockets of the jeans he had borrowed. "I just want to make sure."
Rodriguez made an exasperated, almost pained, groan and knocked his knuckles on his head. "Stupid. This is stupid! I'm telling you the truth. Do you think I'd lie about something like this?" Vincent tucked his chin to his chest, a little ashamed of himself now.
"I put…too many towels into my uncle's washing machine…once…" The teen spoke quietly, forcing Rodriguez to calm in order to hear him. "…and it broke..." Vincent sighed, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck as it stiffened. "He just stared at it for the longest time…just stood there. Never saying a thing." Rodriguez watched Vincent's morose demeanor, his mouth twitching once.
He faced straight ahead as they went into the kitchen to wash their hands so they could set the table. When Rodriguez was grabbing up the forks, Vincent got the knives. "They won't break it. I promise, so just eat with us when the food's ready."
Vincent didn't respond.
As they began to put the silverware on the placemats, Vincent put the knives next to Rodriguez's forks. When Rodriguez came back with a stack of plates that had two empty glasses seated on the top of them, with Vincent carrying the spoons and another glass behind him, the green eyes paused on the knives and forks. He moved the knives over to the right side as he put a plate on each placemat and a glass behind them. Vincent blinked at the rearrangement and then peered down at his spoon filled fist, not knowing what he should do. Rodriguez saw the teen struggle for a while and then put the spoon next to the fork.
"Put it on the right, on the far side of the knife." Rodriguez was watching when Vincent looked up and then ducked his head and fixed the spoon. He put the glass by the placemat that didn't have one and finished doling out the spoons. Richard was watching from the kitchen, having sensed that something was off. Vincent was standing next to Rodriguez when he set down his third and final spoon. "Haven't you set a table before?" Rodriguez asked. Thin shoulders jerked at the question.
"No."
Richard's lips twitched into a frown and she returned to the stove to mix the wild rice t
hat was cooking in the oiled pan with a wooden spoon. "Damn it." She hissed, shoving the rice into a pile that she flattened fiercely. "After you bring a stray puppy home…" She growled, lines marring her features as she beat at the rice. "…you don't want to put it outside again." The woman's eyes narrowed as she cursed quietly, pained when she recalled the night the red eyed teen had bitten her. She had tried to taze the boy as he escaped over a chain linked fence afterwards.
The scar glinted a little in the light coming from the hood of the stove that sucked up the cooking fumes, and the hand moved with the wooden spoon.
Rodriguez gathered up his notes from the counter with the hanging lights and stools as his mother finished cooking. Vincent helped by picking up the two textbooks and carrying them up after Rodriguez, into the teen's bedroom. Rodriguez put his notes on his desk so Vincent put the books beside them. The books were picked up and laid on the notes to keep them flat while Vincent watched, showing no reaction towards the correction. "My mom will call us when the food's ready." Rodriguez explained as he sat in his chair and opened his laptop. As the screen came to life, he reached over the side of his desk, standing up when he needed a few more inches, and wheeled another chair around the corner of the desk, situating it beside his own. He typed in his password as he spoke. "Sit. I think we have a few minutes to kill."
The black haired teen sat down, red eyes scanning the screen and then flitting over to the textbooks. Vincent licked his lips and then bit them sharply. "What were you studying?"
Green went to the books as well. "Oh, them? Physics and Calc. I'm in Calc BC. You?" Rodriguez waited for Vincent to answer, his finger tapping on his mouse pad without needing his eyes to watch it.
"…Not taking math this year." Vincent eyed the iTunes window that popped up after the computer's fan fussed for a while. "I already took three years of math and that's all you need in order to graduate."
Trapped with a Way Out Page 45
