C H A P T E R  22: Stranger Skies

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Santa Fe, New Mexico was a lot more than Scout had bargained for.

It had the same feel as Arizona, but with a Vegas twist (not that she had ever actually been to Las Vegas). It was just the right amount of homey deserts and everything the same hue as sand, but with all the beautiful night lights and restaurants and a stranger sky than she knew from all the days she spent in Santan Valley.

Scout's eyes were bright, wide saucers that reflected all the shiny things they drove by. Her eyes reminded Skylar of the Mirror Ball in Chicago. He never thought he'd see two of them in his passenger seat, especially not on the face of Scout-Juliet Compton, the most unimpressed individual he had possibly ever met. But there those mirror balls were, and there Scout was, pressed so tightly against the passenger door to see everything as closely as she could, like getting out of the car and seeing everything up close wasn't an option. It was then that she reminded Skylar of a little kid hanging halfway out of an African Safari truck. Skylar shook his head with an almost-laugh.

It was getting close to 10 PM. Skylar wasn't entirely sure what there was to do around Santa Fe, especially at night. He considered finding a cheap motel and calling it a night after nearly nine hours on the road, but since Scout spent the majority of that time napping, Skylar figured that that would be the last thing she would want to do.

Scout hadn't meant to spend almost the entire car ride sleeping, save for two rest stop breaks and the five minutes it took her to scarf down nearly half of a greasy gas station pizza. Though, a part of her was very glad she did. She hated small talk about as much as she hated the heat and vienna sausages and mittens, and she hated awkward silences just as much. It didn't help that she was still bothered by Skylar's leaving and wanted to avoid a conversation about it at all costs. Instead of choosing the lesser of two evils, she supposed napping was for the best. Skylar didn't mind it either. Although he hated the silence and the ghosts it resurrected, driving was a solace in which he preferred the quiet.

"What do you wanna do?" Skylar asked, slowing down for a blaring, ruby light over the middle of the intersection.

Scout was awe-inspired by the entire city. There were twinkling, yellow lights dangling on tree branches, and lit candles along the walkways and bike paths. The buildings were all dressed up in lights, and she recognized them as being the adobe bricks she learned about in an art class she took before she graduated. Everything was brighter than Santan Valley, and she wanted to experience all of it.

"Everything," Scout said lowly.

Skylar's face formed into that almost-smile of his again. "That sounds time consuming."

Scout looked over at him with a straight face. "You owe me one anyway."

Skylar cocked a brow. "How so?"

Scout rolled her eyes at him and looked back out of the window ahead of her. He had a lot of nerve to ask her that. He knew damn well what he did. She shouldn't have had to reenact the last time she saw him; the argument and the tears and his tail lights getting further and further away from the people who genuinely cared for him.

"Green light," Scout muttered.

Skylar stared at her for a moment longer before pressing down on the gas. He owed her nothing, he thought. Yeah, he left, but he came back. He apologized and he came back for her. That's what counts. Like all the times Jackie left. It never mattered how long she was gone. She always came back... Until she couldn't. Jackie was no role model to look up too, but she was consistent in that she always returned. That was one of the very few things Skylar learned to appreciate over the years.

Virginia never came back, though. That was the thing that Scout could never get over. It conditioned her to have no patience for leavers, and, at that moment, she no longer wanted to be in such an intimate space with Skylar.

"Pull over," Scout said.

"What?"

"Right there," Scout said, pointing to a night club that stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the city with its bright, green lights pulsing with up-beat dance music.

"Why?" Skylar asked.

"Because that's where I wanna go," Scout snapped. "Is that an issue?"

Skylar didn't respond. Sometimes, he really didn't know how to take Scout. Before he left, it would have been so much easier to snap back at her like two wild animals forced to share the same enclosure or for him to corner her in the booth of a diner like he had done what feels like forever ago. Now, he was different. It wasn't just the ache in his gut whenever he moved, or the stitches itching over his brow. It was more of a softness. He lost a whole lot of fight in himself after that, and he thought that arguing with her over something so trivial wouldn't be worth whatever small amount of gusto he had left.

So, Skylar just shook his head, almost in time with the sound of his turn signal. The clicking seemed louder when it was as quiet as it was in the car then. Once he fully turned into the crammed parking lot of the night club and the signal popped off, he nearly leaped out of his skin.

Scout had never wanted to eject herself out of a vehicle as much as she had then. So, when the car came to a slow stop in one of the three spots left, that's exactly what she did. She burst out of the car and nearly sprinted to the door of the club.

"Hey," Skylar called from the driver's seat.

Scout stopped. She turned around with her hands on her hips, and raised a brow expectantly.

"Do you wanna, like," Skylar began with a shrug, "change clothes or something?"

Scout looked down at herself. She was in a pair of blue-jean shorts, the kind they described as "destroyed" in the catalogs for stores targeted at teenaged girls, a crop top and a pair of sandals with many dangling elements that Bo loved because they once belonged to her. Scout felt she looked fine, but the way Skylar looked at her sometimes made her overwhelmingly self-conscious. She didn't know if it was because she actually cared what he thought, or if he just had one of those really intense stares. It was some of both, but she convinced herself that it was just the latter.

"This isn't some upscale cocktail party," Scout said. "I look fine."

"I never said you didn't," Skylar said, his eyes on her as he got out of the car.

She hated the way he looked at her. Even then, his eyes could've brought her to her knees. She took a breath that was much sharper than she anticipated. She felt like he could even see the oxygen molecules leaving through her nose, so she shook her head and turned toward the entrance of the club with a quickness.

Skylar followed slowly behind. This wasn't his idea of how to spend the night. The thought of drinking brought back visions of the red head, and he hadn't been to an actual night club since before his mother died. This wasn't his scene. All he wanted was to find a cheap motel, send Scout to bed, and sit outside. The sky was a lot different here, and he wanted to enjoy the view of a new horizon versus being in a cramped, hot room filled to the brim with drunk people and having to babysit Scout all night.

There was a small line of people at the front door. Scout joined at the end, rocking back and forth on her heels. She had never been to a night club before. She had never done a lot of things, actually. She was excited to have this experience, even if she hated it and wanted to leave 15 minutes later. All she really wanted was a picture of herself in a club to send to Bo and rub it in that she's now the more "cultured" one of the two. She was sure that Bo would pull the race card and, because of that alone, Scout would never be more "cultured." The thought brought a small smile to Scout's face.

Skylar stood stoically beside Scout, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans. He didn't really have an expression, but if he did, he was sure it would be a scowl.

Scout glanced at him briefly and rolled her eyes.

"If you don't want to be here, then you can leave," she said.

"And do what?" Skylar asked. "Make you walk to a motel?"

"I'll be fine."

Skylar scoffed.

The line was moving fairly quickly. They were three spots from the door.

"What?" Scout asked. "You don't think I'll be fine?"

"Did I say that?" Skylar sighed.

"I can take care of myself."

"Sure."

Scout turned toward Skylar on a dime. "Sure? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Skylar stepped forward. Scout followed suit, all the while still staring daggers into him. They were two spots from the door.

"The definition of the word?" He asked.

"Whatever," Scout said, crossing her arms and stepping forward again.

"Didn't seem like you could the night of the dinner party."

Scout's jaw felt like it dropped onto the ground like a cartoon character's. She felt the adrenaline rush to her hands, and it took every once of strength in her body not to shove Skylar out of line. Her fists shook at her sides. How dare he have the audacity to mention that night? It's not like she even asked for his help. She was fine. She didn't need him or anyone to come save her from herself.

Scout took a breath and said, "Go fuck yourself," before taking a step away from Skylar. She wanted to be as far from him as possible.

The bouncer at the door of the club, a hulking and hirsute man, stared at Scout.

"ID?"

Scout froze. It dawned on her that she was not, in fact, 21 and she was standing at the door of a night club. She didn't even grab her wallet out of the car, but it's not like it would do her much good anyway. The bouncer would take one look at her date of birth, and laugh at her until she felt too ashamed to stand there any longer and made a beeline back to the car. She felt dejected and pissed off and, for a moment, she wished she was back home in the comfort of her dad's shop. Her thoughts were on a loop of Fuck Skylar, fuck this club, and fuck this whole state.

Skylar stepped beside Scout. He had a different look on his face, she noticed. He wasn't a very expressive person, so she knew she hadn't seen this look before. His expression was caught somewhere between determined and irritated. She looked away. It intimidated her, no matter how much she would hate to ever admit it.

"She's with me," Skylar said.

The bouncer cocked his head to the side with a crooked look on his face. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Skylar's face hardened. "Yeah. Does it fuckin' look like I'm not of age?"

The bouncer's expression faltered. He wasn't the type of guy people normally tested, Scout noticed. He looked thoroughly taken off guard.

"Do you normally make it a habit to harass your clientele?" Scout asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Skylar smirked. "I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem for us to get in to the club down the street and call all of our friends who are currently inside your club to come join us down there. Not much job security with no clientele, am I right?"

"Actually," Scout said, turning to Skylar, "I think I'd prefer somewhere else. I've read some really shitty reviews about this place anyway."

"Jesus Christ," the bouncer said below his breath. "We've been getting nothing but complaints since Purple Moon moved in up the road."

Scout went wide-eyed for a moment before regaining her composure. That ordeal was a real stroke of luck, if she had ever witnessed one.

The bouncer removed the rope across the front door and stared at the pair expectantly. "Enjoy your night."

"Thanks," Scout smiled, walking quickly through the front door.

The night club was a lot bigger inside than it looked outside. Green lights strobed and pulsed throughout the darkness of the club. A smoke machine somewhere by the DJ booth let off a cloud that sailed over the club and made it harder to see. From what Scout could make out, everything was black leather and vibrating with some new Hip Hop song. There was barely any room to move through the crowd of dancing, sweating bodies. Scout was sure they were over capacity.

Scout felt a rough hand clasp around her wrist. She whorled around in the crowd to see Skylar with a worry line between his brows.

Scout's eyes narrowed. She yanked her wrist from his grasp. Just because she spoke to him long enough to convince the bouncer to let them in didn't mean she wanted to continue speaking to him.

"Leave me alone," Scout yelled over the music. "I didn't need you the night of the dinner party, and I sure as Hell don't need you now!"

"Fine," Skylar said. He let go of her wrist.

He had that same emotionless expression as he normally had, and it drove Scout insane. She wanted him to apologize, or act like he cared for once. She didn't know why she expected that from him and craved it in that moment, but she did, and it disappointed the hell out of her that he couldn't come through. She expected too much from people all the time and it made her mad. Madder than she had ever been at her dad, at Virginia, and almost as mad as she had ever been at Antonio. At that moment, all she wanted to do was get fucked up, even more than she had been the night of the dinner party. So, she took off in the direction of the bar.

Skylar watched as Scout pushed through the crowd of people in search of the bar. He shook his head. He didn't understand her at all. He had spent enough time with her, but had no idea who she was. He didn't know what she needed or what she needed him to do, so he let her go. Before he knew it, he was swept up by some pretty blonde that winded her hips into his, and somehow they were in the middle of the dance floor while some song he didn't care for played in an atmosphere that he hated, but if he had to be stuck there, then he might as well try to enjoy something. He couldn't do too much on account of his aching ribs, but the blonde seemed to know it was her obligation to do all the dancing for them while he swayed with her as best he could.

"What's the strongest drink you have?" Scout yelled over the music at the bartender.

"We have some shots of moonshine from the local distillery?" said the young man behind the bar.

"Then why aren't you pouring it?" Scout hissed.

The bartender looked disgruntled, but grabbed the liquor and shot glass anyhow.

"Add it to my tab, Alex."

Scout looked over to see an older man smiling warmly at her from the bar stool beside her. He had to have been in his late thirties or early forties. It was dark and the green strobes would only catch him at certain angles, but his smile was welcoming enough and he wasn't a terrible looking guy from what she could make out.

"Hi," he said, jutting out a hand to her.

"Hi," she smiled, and met his hand in the air between them.

"I'm Malcolm."

"Scout."

"I love that name," he smiled. "Very unique."

"Thanks," she smiled back.

Alex, the bartender, set down a shot glass of what looked like water.

Scout scooped it up and threw it back in haste. It was strong. Stronger than anything she had ever tasted before.

"A girl after my own heart," Malcolm chuckled, downing a shot of his own.

It wasn't long before Scout lost count of how many shots she'd taken. She could feel the liquor sloshing around in her head. It felt nice. Too nice to stop. Malcolm took her hand and lead her to the dance floor at some point in the night. She wasn't the best dancer form being a former cheerleader, but when she had a few drinks in her, she wasn't half bad.

Skylar and Scout ended up beside each other on the dance floor with their respective partners. Scout pretended to be ignorant as to why it upset her so greatly seeing Skylar with the blonde. Maybe it was because he was smiling. It was small and it may not have even looked like a smile to most people, but Scout had seen his small array of expressions enough to know that that was his version of a smile. It was warm, too. In Scout's tipsy haze, his smile was even warmer than the night they went to the Mexican restaurant in an effort to get to know each other. It hurt with an ache much worse than she had anticipated, and she hated it enough to want to put as much distance between herself and Skylar as possible.

Scout whorled around in Malcolm's arms to face him. "Take me back to your place," she said.

Malcolm obliged immediately. He lead her out to the parking lot and into a new, yellow convertible. It wasn't until they were pulling out of the parking lot of the club that Scout realized this wasn't what she wanted. It was every night with Antonio all over again, and all she wanted was familiar, tattooed and scarred arms. Arms that didn't belong to either Malcolm or Antonio. Malcolm's hand made it onto her thigh, and she suddenly felt it had been a decade since she last showered. She wanted to go home or be in a hotel room with Skylar, sharing a corner and a pillow. Malcolm wasn't what she wanted at all, and regret hit her like a ton of bricks.

In so many ways, she realized she was Skylar Glass. At some point during the junction of their lives that had crossed, she became every part of him. She was his black and blue, his bloody lips, and his sad eyes. She was his inability to smile, his rampant demons, and all of his ugly little character flaws. She had become every unpleasant, depressive, intolerable thing about him because she was just as fucked up as he was. And then it hit her: He wasn't just some guy she developed feelings for, or her one-way ticket out of Santan Valley, Arizona; he was the only one whose demons could play well with her own because they recognized each other's own, personal Hells so well.

Scout tried to open the door of the car like she could tumble out unscathed on the middle of the expressway, but Malcolm had locked the doors and his hand on her thigh was only getting higher.

A sob broke lose from Scout's chest, but Malcolm had turned the radio up a moment before.

Even under different, stranger skies, this cycle in Scout's life repeated over and over again...