VALERIE

Before I'd met Riley, I thought I had so many questions. I thought I'd have a lot to say. But now that he's sitting here, with my mystery finally solved and all the answers sitting right before me, I have nothing to say to him. It kind of feels good to just sit by someone silently, knowing they feel no hate or resent towards you. I wonder if he feels that way too.

I look over at him and realise he is already looking at me. When our eyes meet, I notice a dullness in his grey irises-something I hadn't noticed before. It's strange because everything else about him seems friendly and approachable. But his eyes look like they've had life stripped out of them.

"Well," he laughs nervously, "I've never had a girl look at me like that before."

"Pfft,"I roll my eyes, "don't flatter yourself. I'm just taking you all in. We don't know each other, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah, forgot about that." He gives a goofy smile, and I turn away from him so I don't mirror it again. It's so annoying how infectious it is. "We should get to know each other then."

"How do you want to do that?"

"Can I start by asking why you're out here?"

My first instinct is to say, why should I tell you? Then get up and walk away, annoyed that he has poked his nose in my business, when he knows nothing about me. But instead, I tell him, "I got kicked out."

"Rebel related?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Then we'll probably be good friends." Riley nods, and I can't help but feel relieved that he hasn't asked why I got kicked out. He seems to know exactly not to.

"Have you gotten kicked out of the house before?" I ask.

"Yeah. And I kick myself out too, sometimes. I used to graffiti the walls on my street to pass the time, back when-" he pauses. "Like, back when my friends were here."

"Oh," I nod, noticing his sadness at the mention of his friends. He must really miss them. I shake away the urge to comfort him. That's not my business. And I'm not that kind of person anyway. I don't comfort people. "Graffiti is illegal isn't it?" I change the subject.

"Depends on whether or not you have authorisation. Most of the owners of the shut down buildings around here gave me and my friends permission years ago. They aren't in use anymore. And that wall at the park? It's literally breaking." He stops for a moment, "But child abandonment is illegal. It's a crime to kick an underage out."His dull eyes are distant now, as he stares over at the wall on the other side of the park.

"That's true." My parents' whole lives strived on doing the wrong thing, though, so of course knowing this fact wouldn't phase them. "Do you do graffiti to just pass the time then? Is that why you do it?"

"I do it for a lot of reasons. One is because I can." He responds, proudly.

I snort. "Okay then. What's the other reason?"

"This town needs some colour. I know all they're going to do is clean it off after a few days. But at least it adds some aspect of difference on the walls that are old and falling apart." Riley stands up and walks over to the wall, hands buried deep in his large pockets. I follow him. The way he looks at this place seems to be with such emotion. For some reason, it must mean a lot to him.

"I do it because it also reminds me of my friends. That small aspect of what kept me alive," He seems to be talking to himself, now. He isn't with me at this point in time. "That's why I do it, Valerie. To keep me alive. That's always been the reason."

"To keep you alive?"

When I repeat the words myself, I realise what they mean to me. For the past four years, ever since everything started getting worse at home...ever since Dad's anger got worse, and the beating and drinking escalated. Ever since Mum got worse, and she got depression and the men kept coming. Ever since everyone found out the kind of people me and my parents were, and started thinking of us with such disgust. Ever since everyone turned their back on me, and I turned my back on everyone. Ever since then, I've felt like I've been fading away. There seems to be nothing to live for anymore.

Riley laughs again. I don't know why he's laughing, but I do realise now that I like the sound of it. It's small and innocent. It's quiet and light. Maybe he is doing it to try to comfort himself.

"I'm just realising now," He says, "that I've just said something extremely strange. I know you have no idea what I'm talking about."

I chuckle. "Well, I don't know what you're referring to. But I know what you mean." I let myself flash him a wide grin, something I haven't done in a while. He smiles back. He has two dimples on either side of his cheek. "Hey. Maybe you can teach me how to do some of this art work of yours."

Riley's face lightens up. "You want to learn?"

"Why not? I want to see what this feeling of keeping alive is like. And I agree with you. This town is dull as hell. I'll help you add some colour."

"You look way too smart to do something this rebellious." Riley folds his arms, and raises his eyebrows daringly.

I scoff. "You really don't know me at all. I'm way badder than you think."

"Fine."

He picks up a spray can from the grass, and I wonder if he always keeps his stuff lying around the park. He throws it at me and I catch it, the metal of the can feeling cold in my hands. "Go on, Rebel." He teases.

I turn over the can in my hands. I've never done this before. That's why I want to. I shake it in my hand a few times, and am about to press down the valve, when I hear a voice from behind me.

"Hey! Valerie Davis. What do you think you're doing?!" I whip my head round to see Mr Hawshaw shouting at me from across the road. "Are you spray painting public property? Hey!" He starts walking down the street.

"Come on!" Riley starts running down the park, and I follow him, laughing.

"This takes me back," Riley says, as we turn a corner, "Every time me and my friends got caught doing something like this, it was always Hawshaw who caught us and chased us down the road til he couldn't run anymore."

"Isn't it authorised here?"

"Who knows? And who cares, because nobody likes this wall anyway! But most of the old folks around here still hate it. They think it's still vandalism. I remember getting marched to the police station twice, but my friend, Ash's Dad is an officer so we were okay."

"The police, huh?" I breathe heavily, as we begin to slow down. We've reached just outside the woods, the place that divides the town from the caravan park.

"Yeah," Riley shrugs. "It's not a big deal, though."

"Yes. Yes, it is a big deal, Riley." I shake my head.

"You sound just like Ash. Always scared to get into trouble, even though he was the trouble," Riley says, but then looks at me seriously, "Alright. Well if you really don't want to do something fun, I have a better suggestion..." His voice trails off, and he looks conflicted by something, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks down at his feet.

"Or we don't have to do anything, if you don't want to." I suggest.

"No. No, let's go." He is less enthusiastic now, but starts walking into the woods.

"You expect me to follow a complete stranger into the woods?"

"So you don't want to graffiti a wall and not go into the woods with a stranger? Damn." Riley jokes, and I chuckle, folding my arms. "Alright, fine. We don't have to go there yet. I wanted to show you a place where you can do as much graffiti as you want, without causing any trouble. Me and my friends used to go there a long time ago. It was kind of like a secret hideout. You might like it."

"A hideout?" I repeat.

"Yeah. You know those forts you build when you're a child? It's kinda like that."

"But out in the woods?"

"Yeah," He smiles, "We can go next time. Besides, I don't think I'm ready to go there, yet. Probably won't be able to handle the memories." He peers behind me. "I don't think Hawshaw is coming after us anymore. You think you're ready to go home?"

Home is literally the worst place to be right now."No."

"Aren't you even cold?"

"Yeah. I'm freezing." I say, wrapping my hands around my arms. "But I'm not going home." I wonder what his house looks like. I already know it's too early. But I want to know everything about this boy. I want to know who he is. Where he lives. The people he loves, and the things he hates.

And I want him to know me too.

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the desperation for having a friend after so many years. That's probably why I'm so eager to know everything about a person I've known for two days. Something good has fallen into my hands, I can feel it. One good thing has happened. It would be stupid to let it slip away.