Dedicated to Bailey (who prefers the name Juliette) because she made the gorgeous banner on the side and left lovely comments on this story c:

Twenty-Nine: Rebellion.

“I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble.”

-Suzanne Collins, Catching Fire

There are some days when the only thing that feels right is just driving around aimlessly, endlessly, knowing nothing except that you have a full tank of gas to waste and hours of time to kill. Saturday was one of those days.

So maybe I don't like driving. So maybe I'm paranoid of being behind the wheel. So to hell with maybes, it had to be done.

I picked you up in my uncle's car, a convertible, and we scouted the city streets with the top down and the radio blasting. For once, we were those annoying teenagers playing music so loud that the car pulsed. We were coasting through suburbs and bustling avenues with the wind in our eyes and our hearts in our throats.

At some point before noon, when the sky was dusty and the air was cold, Total Eclipse of the Heart began to play. We were in Beaverton, a quiet part of town, but that didn't stop you from unbuckling your seatbelt and kneeling on the passenger seat and throwing up your arms and belting along to every single word.

“Ellery,” I panicked, “my God, sit down! You're gonna fall out the window or hit the windshield or—”

You turned to me as Bonnie Tyler's voice gave way to music, your hands on your hips and your bottom lip jutting out.

“Sam,” you scolded, “come on. Live a little!”

I blinked at you out of the corner of my eye. “But I'm driving!”

“So? There's no law that says you can't sing while driving!”

“Uh, maybe not, but there is one that says you can't randomly unbuckle your seatbelt in the middle of the freaking—”

I didn't get to finish my sentence, because you suddenly threw your arms into the air and screamed out lyrics with more enthusiasm than I'd ever seen. You couldn't sing, but that didn't faze you.

“Ellery,” I began, still nervous about your precarious perch on the seat.

“Turn around, bright eyes!” you shrieked in response.

“Can you please just—”

“Every now and then I fall apart!”

“Ellery—”

“Jesus, Sam, either sing the along with me or shut hell up!”

You were on a roll, singing in the middle of a suburban street, dizzy from the energy of that little rebellion, and I knew that there was no stopping you. You were a powder keg, a fire hazard, shooting off sparks onto the asphalt. You were unbeatable in those four minutes and thirty seconds.

It was a lost cause, trying to control your energy. I really didn't think I wanted to, not when it was so beautifully contagious. And anyway, that song really was catchy...

~

“Where are we?” you asked me, your hair catching the wind as you stuck your head out the window.

“Not sure,” I replied calmly, staring out the windshield.

It probably should have scared me, the not knowing. But it didn't. It felt more like freedom; complete, total freedom that was addictive and intoxicating and wild.

I let the car roll to a stop. We were on some hill in a residential area that was full of trees. Actually, the entire state is full of trees, but there were a lot up here. Big trees; trees in reds and golds and oranges who still hadn't lost all their leaves.

You popped open the passenger door and stepped out onto the gravelly road, your rain boots crushing pebbles. I followed suit, and for a moment we just stood there breathing in the cold air, the kind that stings your lungs but makes everything crisper.

Then: “Hey,” you said suddenly, pointing across the hood of the car. “Hey, are those—are those sheep?”

I followed your gaze, your extended finger. At first, I saw nothing but trees and winding road, but no, that wasn't all; there, through the leaves, was a chainlink fence and a cluster of clouds.

“Yeah, I think there actually are—”

“Sheep!” you cried, like a little kid, then proceeded to dash up the road, one hand pressed to your head to keep your beanie from slipping off.

“Ellery!” I sprinted after you, caught up just as you were leaping onto the fence, clinging to it and preparing to climb.

There was a sign on the fence—Private Property: KEEP OUT—and you were blatantly ignoring it.

“Dude, do you see that sign?” I demanded, pointing to it. “You can't go in there!”

You were sitting on the top bar, one leg on each side, a foot in safety and a foot out, and you turned to give me a look of utter exasperation.

“Dude,” you teased, “of course I see it. I just don't care.”

I tried to call you back again, but the cry died in my throat as you threw yourself over, sailing through six feet of freefall before landing lithely on bent knees. You turned to me and blew a kiss over your shoulder, then took off through the frosty grass and into a herd of very confused sheep.

I sighed, but allowed myself a private smile as I hopped the fence after you.

When I caught up to you, you were standing in front of a sheep, hands on your knees, talking to it as it ate the shrubbery.

“Look at that,” you said, pointing at a cloud in the surprisingly blue sky. “Look, it's you!”

I sidled over, hands in my pockets and eyebrows raised. “Ellery Eshelman,” I stated in wonder, “you are ridiculous.”

You turned to me, beaming mischievously, and let out a glimmering laugh. “I try.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” I rolled my eyes. “But hey, how about you try somewhere else? We should really get out of here.”

“Why?”

I frowned. “Why? Well, because the sign says—”

“Screw the sign, I'm staying right here,” you interrupted, then waltzed over and put your hand on my arm. “Sam, in The Hunger Games, did Katniss and Gale let a stupid sign stop them from sneaking out of their district to hunt for food?”

“Well, no, but—”

“So why should it stop us?”

“Well, for one thing, this is real life, and—”

“Screw real life, too!” You shook your head. “Why can't we just pretend like we don't exist?”

“I don't understand,” I mumbled.

“Let's be fictional,” you implored. “Let's do something that characters in books would do. Let's break the rules and be ridiculous and wreak havoc.” A dreamy sigh. “Doesn't that sound fantastic?”

I shifted from foot to foot. I had the feeling that you could make feeding yourself to a hungry lion sound fantastic, if you wanted to. You had too much charisma for your own good. Or mine, I guess.

Anyway, you won.

“All right, Ellery,” I conceded. I could feel a fluttering in my stomach, those ever-present nerves, but beside them was that unmistakable hunger for adventure; the wrong-yet-right taste of rebellion. “What is it that fictional people do?”

“Hm,” you mused, “let's see.” You began a list on your fingers. “For one, they pet sheep. They race also through fields and play hide in seek in forests. Oh, and they roll down hills, regardless of whether there's still melted snow in the grass.” With coy eyes, you smirked. “Think you're ready?”

My Polaroid camera was in my pocket, and I could capture everything. I nodded; I was ready. Hopefully.

“Then forgot tonight; forever's gonna start right now.” Your words were on fire as you grabbed my hand, a grin alighting your features.

“Come on, Sam,” you said. “Let's pretend we don't exist.”

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A/N: this is a bit of a crazy mess, but that's only because i've literally been listening to total eclipse of the heart on repeat for about four hours straight, and that really does something to your brain.

but i regret nothing. that song is my anthem.

therefore, as you can see, it's in this chapter. and on the side of it. and eternally stuck in my head. idk guys, i just really love it. pretty sure i should have grown up in the eighties, but y'know.

brownie points to you if you can see the two places where i used the lyrics in this chapter c; (it'sprobablyobvious)

OKAY this author's note is too long and no one even cares, but i'm just wondering, did anyone think something bad was going to happen at the start of this chapter? (yes sophie, that means you)

godilovethissongsomuchokayi'mridiculousi'mdone