Atlas Hands

Although I considered myself to be feisty and temperamental most of the time, I was not generally one to do something reckless. Sometimes I wish I was a little more insouciant like the majority of my friends were, but alas, I was cursed to remain a bundle of nerves for (probably) the rest of my life. Therefore, it was hard for me to do what I was about to do without throwing the pen across the kitchen and retreating back to my bedroom and pretending I never had this idea in the first place.

"Grow some balls, Micah," I demanded myself, inhaling sharply. I studied the pen for a while. It was green and white and had the logo of some dentist my parents took me to when I was nine or ten. I don't know how they are so organized, I would have lost this pen three days after it was handed to me. After anxiously running my fingers through my hair a few times, I brought the old pen down to the notepad resting on the island.

Hola, mis padres.

It's currently three in the morning and I know I should be asleep but I couldn't help but to remember that you said I could do whatever I wanted when I turned eighteen. Though people say a lot of things they don't mean (and I assumed you said this to me to shut me up about getting a tattoo), you still said it. And because I am a naive, now eighteen year old girl, I choose to believe that you meant it. My apologies if you didn't. Anywho, I've decided to go on a road trip. With Casey. If he agrees to go with me. I won't be gone that long, but please don't call me. I won't answer, so do not waste your time. But do not worry, I am not running away like I said I was going to do in third grade when you wouldn't let me buy that giant pixie stick from the candy store. I just need to get away for a little while and think about what I'm going to do with my life now that I am officially an adult (ew). If I need anything, or get into any trouble, then I will call you. Until then, peace out.

Your incredible, marvelous, out of this world daughter,
Micah.

Technically, I didn't have to leave right now, and I knew that if I just talked it over with them in the morning, my parents would have agreed to letting me go. I just felt the need to be dramatic for once in my life, I suppose. I ripped the serious yet slightly humorous letter off of the notepad and rushed upstairs to slip it under my parents' bedroom door. With that done, I gathered my all of my belongings (which wasn't much, just my wallet, cell phone, some clothes, and a few things to pass the time), hopped on my bike, and pedaled to Casey's house.

My heart was pounding the entire ride over. Not because I was going to his house at three thirty in the morning, but because I was going to his house at three thirty in the morning, without his awareness, to beg him to disappear with me for a little while. I wasn't really sure what came over me - I'd never done or even thought about doing a stunt like this before, but I was just hoping not to chicken out halfway there.

Casey lived pretty close to me, just a ten minute leisurely bike ride away. In the past, we'd bike five minutes and meet each other at Jefferson Park, which was conveniently halfway there, just to climb the freakishly tall oak tree and talk about whatever we needed to get off our chests. My stories and rants were often about how much I loved boys but also hated them at the same time, and I felt bad for making him listen to irrelevant nonsense, but he always said he didn't mind. That much.

Approaching my destination, I carelessly jumped off my bike, letting it crash into the curb and land on it's side in his backyard. I made a beeline for the elm tree next to Casey's window. Normally, I would just walk in uninvited through the front door, but it was still around three thirty in the morning and I would end up scaring the shit out of Monica and Al, Casey's parents. Who were awesome, by the way.

It did not occur to me that I had never actually climbed this tree in my entire life until I started ascending up the first few branches. Nerves instantly overtook my body, and I clung to the branch above my head like Rose clung to that piece of driftwood in The Titanic (which was clearly big enough for the her and Jack, come on now). I hung out there for a little while (no pun intended), having a major internal debate with myself about whether to man up and continue the climb or pussy out, fall to the ground, and bike back home. I decided, however, to continue. I had already slipped the note under my parents door and if they woke up and I was still there, passed out in my bed, I would be too flustered to explain my random act of spontaneity.

Casey slept with his window open. It was no surprise, considering there was something wrong with his thyroid which made him always feel hot. He wore shorts in the winter sometimes. It was funny to see the look on people's faces when they saw him out in public. I firmly gripped the bottom of the windowsill with both hands and hoisted myself into his bedroom with an audible grunt. My creep level was at an ultimate high right now.

The whole thing was not as graceful as I intended it to be. I ended up crashing face first into his dresser, creating a violent smacking noise as a result. Due to this, Casey flailed around in his bed, a loud "What the fuck!" escaping from his lips. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he reached for the baseball bat he kept under his bed and cautiously made his way over to where I was sprawled out on the floor, holding my head in immense pain. It was only when I looked up that I saw his silhouette, along with the bats, and panicked. "NOCASEYSTOPIT'SMEMICAHPUTTHEBATDOWN."

He blinked a few times, slumber and confusion overtaking his features. Once he realized that he wasn't dreaming and it was, in fact, little idiot Micah with a massive bump on her head speaking to him, he dropped the bat to the ground, along with his body, in a fit of laughter.

"S'not funny," I muttered, making an effort to stand up and kick the bat back underneath the bed where it belonged. Oh my god this was a terrible idea I should not have done this I can't believe I just did that I should just jump out of the window, I thought in run-on sentences. Sneaking a glance out the window, I gulped when I realized how high up it actually was and wandered over to his bed. He followed me, taking a seat next to me after I sat down.

"What are you doing here?"

"I needed to ask you something, but I couldn't wait and I didn't want to scare your parents shitless so I climbed the elm tree by your window and tried to be graceful about it but clearly I wasn't graceful about it and I scared the shit out of you rather than your parents and I just..." I rambled, stopping to take a deep breath. I didn't continue, because that story wasn't going anywhere.

"You know my parents aren't home, right?"

Are you fucking kidding me.

"Did you fail to notice that there wasn't a single car in the driveway except for the Jeep?" He continued to laugh, and I continued to blush. I was pretty sure that I had just embarrassed myself more in five minutes than I ever had and ever will.

Noticing I was too tongue-tied to answer, Casey asked another question. He asked a lot of questions, that boy. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Uh."

Not only was I tongue-tied, but now I couldn't even find the words to speak to him. Fuck you nerves, I mentally cursed, fiddling with my fingers. I knew I just had to ask him, he wouldn't let me leave until I did. It shouldn't feel this difficult either, it's not like I'm asking for his hand in marriage or telling him that I'm pregnant. Breathing in deep through my nose, I muttered, "We're going on a road trip."

"That wasn't a question," Casey chuckled.

"I know," I sighed, still slightly rattled.

"To where?"

"I don't know."

"When?"

"Now."

It was quiet. I watched as he deliberated with himself for a few moments. Almost instantly, regret washed throughout my body. This was a stupid idea. This was such a stupid idea and now all I wanted to do was go back home and curl up under my comforter and watch the marathon of Law & Order: SVU reruns that USA network showed every weekend. I only liked the reruns. I hated the new episodes, because Elliot Stabler wasn't in the show anymore. Elliot and Olivia belonged together (I shipped them hard. So hard), but that bastard left the unit without saying goodbye. I never forgave him for that, even though it was just a fictional crime show.

A single word interrupted my musing. "Alright."

I looked up at Casey, my eyes adjusting so that I could just see the outline of his face. "Really?"

"Really." I saw the outline of his smile.

"Oh," I mumbled, "Good."

Casey got up and I heard him shuffling around his room until he reached the light switch. Flipping it on, I glanced around the bedroom that I found myself in so many times before. It was as messy as it ever was, clothes and bottles scattered across the hardwood floor. His walls were navy blue and empty, with the exception of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit calendar hanging up over his headboard. I hated that thing. It had a way of making me feel like the most insecure person alive with just one glance. Noticing he was finished throwing items into his duffle bag, I stood up.

"Let's go."

"Shouldn't you tell your parents?"

"Nah, they won't care," He shrugged, closing his window and making his way towards the door. The thing about Monica and Al was that they let Casey do whatever he wanted, really (minus hard drugs). While some psychologists would label Mr. and Mrs. Daniels as permissive, I would have to disagree. Saying that they're permissive would be implying that they treated Casey more like their friend than their son, and while it did come off that way sometimes, Monica and Al were still great parents. "Did you tell yours?"

Yes. "No," I lied.

With a nod, Casey hoisted his bag over his shoulder and signaled for us to leave the room. I obediently followed, making a mental note to pick up my duffle bag, which I had thrown carelessly aside along with the bike. Once it was retrieved, we threw our bags into the back compartment of the Jeep and hopped into it. Casey put the key in the ignition and turned it before turning to me. "Where to, Miss?"

I rolled my eyes. "To the stars," I quoted, earning a playful slap from Casey. Casey had always hated the Titanic, and I don't blame him. It wasn't much of a guys movie in the first place, but after forcing him to sit down and watch it with me one day, he went on this huge rant about how Jack and Rose's relationship was very overdramatized and very far-fetched. I nodded in agreement, but secretly found myself envying the fictional relationship. They were so in love, and even if that wasn't how things happened in real life, it was a nice thought. "I'm just kidding, Case. Take me anywhere."

Casey knew I hated making decisions, so he didn't force one out of me. Instead, he adjusted the mirror, switched the radio on, and starting singing. Terribly. Casey was the type of tone deaf that was almost unbearable to listen to, but he didn't care. He always just kept on singing, and I had learned to deal with it.

Not caring where we ended up, we drove down the road blasting The Kooks at four-thirty in the morning, and that was the best I had felt in a long time.