By the Light of a Blue Moon (1,234 views)

”R—right... okay... just, message me. And I can buy s’mores stuff.” Cliff said somewhat weakly, unable to look over at Cleo for some reason even though he could feel her eyes boring into his side. For some reason his heart hadn’t calmed down after helping her unzip her dress, nor had his blushing cheeks. He didn’t want to look like an idiot or worse, a pervert, to Cleo, but he just couldn’t help it! How could he not blush when he’d just touched an extremely cute girl’s bare back? It was just impossible! The thought made him flush worse and he tried to shake it off. ”I mean, s’mores can also cheer you up, if you’re in a bad mood, I just don’t have marshmallows and stuff s’all. S’fine, we can do it another time if you want to.”

At least she felt better, though. Cliff tried to send her a well-meaning smile, and glanced down at the sleeping bag his butt was comfortably positioned in. ”Uh, sure, I mean, I’m hot so I can just uh, lie down beside you. I don’t mind not using the bag.”

Though as he spoke, a cool breeze blew by and rustled the tent flaps. For right now he’d be fine, but by the time midnight and 1 AM approached, he might be cooler. But that was okay... as long as Cleo wasn’t freezing. She was already having a bad enough night, he thought.

When she said that she would keep him up if she had chocolate, somehow, Cliff doubted that she would need chocolate to keep him up. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to sleep because how was he supposed to sleep with a girl in his tent, in his sleeping bag, when he wasn’t expecting one? His heart still hadn’t calmed down and he looked down at a rock on the ground outside to try and focus. But then she spoke again and asked... or... implied... that she wanted to share the bag with him? It sounded that way. Cliff turned towards her with his jaw somewhat slack.

”I – I – I – I don’t,” He tried to find something to say, ”It’s just – I mean – you probably wouldn’t be comfortable like... like I’m a boy and you’re... you’re a... you’re... not a boy, right? I mean, I mean duh, you’re not a boy. It might uh, make you uncomfortable ‘cause it’s so tight so I’m fine with just... roughing it, literally, I wouldn’t be uncomfortable though because, ha ha, why would I? But I mean, for your sake, I can stay outside.”

He shook his head. When she said she wanted t lay down he sprang into action and reached over, unzipping the bag halfway, exposing the warm, blue inside. ”You just uh, squeeze in there and uh, zip it back up if you want.”

When Cleo removed his sweatshirt and went to maneuver herself into the sleeping bag he was distracted by the skin of her shoulders and chest as she shifted, clothed in her slip and undergarments (he assumed) and about to get all comfortable in his sleeping bag. He almost forgot to catch the hoodie but luckily fumbled his hands enough to get it secure in his hold. It smelled more like her than it smelled like him right now and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He muttered out a ”okay, thanks,” as he slowly slid the sweatshirt onto his shoulders. It was still somewhat chilly, but he was used to cool temperatures. He turned to watch Cleo as she zipped up his sleeping bag and bit his lower lip, wondering if she was going to be... ok. She looked kind of lonely just lying there so instead of keeping the distance between them large like his gut instinct told him to do, he lied down right beside the sleeping bag and gave her a tentative smile.

”Do you mind if I’m here, then? I mean, it’s warmer in the middle of the tent.” He asked. This, he could do. He was still nervous for some reason – his heart was still racing – but he could do this much.

At least she seemed to be happier when he offered to stick around! She was probably just feeling lonely, or disconnected from her family, which he could relate to. So leaving her completely alone would be bad. He just didn’t want to push any boundaries she wasn’t comfortable with, nor did he want to make this too awkward. But thankfully with the distance between them and the fact that she was covered, the awkwardness had settled. His mind wasn’t going to jump to any weird conclusions about what she wanted from him or of what she was wearing or maybe not wearing. He didn’t want to be creepy to her – especially not now!

”Okay, good.” Cliff said. He turned to look at her, his elbow propped up on the dirt and his cheek held in his palm. At her inquiry, he paused. The clearest memory he had of his father? Quite a few came into his mind. He exhaled a deep breath. There were countless times he could remember his father. There were those times he caught his parents slow dancing to Elvis in the kitchen after they thought he’d been put to bed, and those times his father had taken him out onto hikes in the woods. But one memory that stood out the clearest was when he recalled the first trip they’d dragged his mother on.

”When I was 7, my dad took my mom and I on a camping trip. It was the first one my mom went on when we were together.” And the last one, he thought, but didn’t say. ”My dad set up camp kind of like this and he went out to go hunting for some food. But we were close enough to the coast that he took a climb down to the ocean and went fishing. He caught some fish and took it back to the camp – and then my mom’s face, she was like,” to the best of his ability, he imitated a disgusted, but trying not to look disgusted face, and let out a laugh. ”and then my dad – he laughed, and he was like, ‘something’s fishy about your face’ or something, and then he taught me how to gut a fish. And cut its head off! It was so cool and – well, probably kind of gross if you don’t like that stuff. But we had fish that night and my mom even said it tasted good when she was so weirded out by it before.”

Cleo seemed to like his story, which was something Cliff counted as a plus. She wasn’t as sniffy and seemed to be smiling as she relaxed into his sleeping bag. He watched as her eyes flittered shut and her voice softened with tiredness.

He thought about other stories about his father that stuck out to him and wondered what she’d want to hear. He saw her face when he mentioned gutting a fish – though she was amused she looked kind of grossed out by it – so maybe not the story about when his father first taught him how to cook the kills he made (because killing simply for sport wasn’t something Rhett often practiced).

Cliff lied back and looked at the ceiling. He knew, beyond the walls of the tent, there were stars littering the sky. Perhaps less than he was used to seeing back in Springfield – a low-populated area unlike California – but they were still there, thousands of lightyears away, blinking steadfast.

”’Kay. Well, one time, when I was a kid, I asked my dad what stars were.” He started. He knew a lot of parents told their kids that their dead loved ones had ‘gone on to join the stars in the sky’ but that sounded like such bologna to Cliff. Fortunately, it was a sentiment his father shared. ”He told me that they were maps of space. Like how we had a map we made of the woods, they were for space. And they helped us, too. He told me where the North Star was, and then he showed me all the consolations and told me that they pointed the way to different areas of space. He said that they were like the trail marks we left on our paper. I asked him why there weren’t maps of earth in the sky, and he said, ‘because they’re not gonna do your work for you’. Oh, I was supposed to draw that map that time. But I guess I was trying to – “

He glanced over at Cleo, seeing her rise and fall inside of the sleeping bag, her eyes closed, looking peaceful. Had she fallen asleep? He thought so, or she was just too exhausted to keep her eyes open. In a quieter voice, he finished his sentence, and then he went silent, glancing at his iPod beside him. He could listen to music but seeing Cleo so exhausted and sleepy beside him made him want to sleep, too. But somehow he couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about finding her in the woods, all alone, and what might have happened if he didn’t come around. What would she be doing now? Probably still be crying, and scared, and alone in her stuffy dress. He wondered if her mom was worried. She probably was. Or, maybe she was just crappy and was too involved with her mysterious boyfriend to notice. Cliff felt a surge of anger then at Cleo’s mother, though he’d never met her. Why were moms so fickle? His mom moved on, and now Cleo’s? He didn’t understand them. He didn’t understand moms.

He didn’t know exactly when, but at some point he fell asleep. Cliff woke up first, noticing Cleo was still nestled up in his sleeping bag. Checking his iPod for the time, he saw it was about 7 AM. It wasn’t a school day so he didn’t have any rush about him – but, still, he got up and exited the tent, shedding the sweatshirt and leaving it in the space he’d once occupied.

He immediately started to play target practice a few feet away from the tent, using his arrow to fling dents into the trees. He saw a pheasant not too far away – an average sized bird that could feed two people if Cleo was willing to eat – and with a good, quick shot he got his breakfast. He returned to his camp and brought out the small, aluminum Dutch oven he’d brought and got it satiated over a fire, and then began to peel the skin and set it into the pot. He boiled the bird with the leaves of some dandelion he found growing in the wild.

If there was something he really loved about being out in the wild, it was cooking. Not only did he feel more connected to his father this way – because his father did this all the time – but he also tended to have fun with it. He never followed any ‘official’ recipes for anything. Out in the wild he usually found what plants tasted good, what he thought might taste good, and what he thought might go with whatever he was cooking. He didn’t have a plethora of spices with him – just a small little container he brought to add seasoning – and working in a kitchen was suffocating. That was part of the reason he’d never considered taking up cooking despite his natural talent and love for it.

When the bird was nearly done cooking, Cliff poked his head into the tent to see if Cleo was awake. He saw her form in the sleeping bag and smiled slightly.

”Uh, Cleo? Do you want any bird? I’m cooking and I’ll have enough for two, if you want.” He hoped she was awake, he didn’t want to jostle her up – but he also didn’t want the bird to go cold on her or risk her wanting some when he ate it all for himself.

Cliff continued to prepare the meal he was cooking for himself and Cleo after her half-asleep response of mhm. He didn’t know if she really meant it, but if he was going to make enough for two anyway, well, she could not eat if she really didn’t want to. He poked at the bird, cut into it, and made sure that it was coming along good. And it was. He put on his iPod for some background music then. His playlist chalk full of country music was playing – but not too loudly in case it woke up Cleo – and he swayed slightly to the beat as he enjoyed the sounds of birds in the air and the smell of his own catch cooking over the fire.

Minutes passed and, eventually, Cliff heard a thud from inside the tent. Curious, he got up and poked his head in, spotting a sleepy and bedhead-ridden Cleo sitting up in his sleeping bag. He tried not to look anywhere other than at her face (despite the draw he felt to her shoulders) and gave her a small smile.

”Morning. You awake now? I got food cooking.” He said. ”I have a second pair of shirt I brought in case I wanted to change out of this one – you can put that on if you don’t want to put your dress back on or... something.”

”Yeah no, yeah! It’s fine. It’s uh, right in here.” Cliff made sure not to peek over at Cleo, despite his extremely strong desire to, as he fished through his bag and grabbed his tee shirt, tossing it over to Cleo. He tried to will down the blush on his face as he pictured Cleo wearing the shirt in his head. It was his size, with broad shoulders, and bore a cute slogan about fishing on the front. Cliff then cleared his throat and meandered out of the tent, closing the flap. ”I’ll be done probably by the time you come out so uh, if you need anything else let me know.”

He hoped she didn’t need another zip thing... that would be awkward.

Cliff went back to his cooking, grabbing the one plate he’d brought on the trip. He had brought extra forks, but the plate... well, he and Cleo would need to share. As his bird finished cooking Cliff got it out and cut it up, steam plummeting out of the meal. He took a bite himself and put the other fork on the other end of the plate, waiting for Cleo to emerge from his tent.

This was... not how he’d expected this night to have gone. But, still, it had been an experience that would maybe being him and Cleo closer? He flushed at that thought.

When Cleo finally emerged from the tent, Cliff turned to look at her. She was in his shirt, which fit a little loose on her, but fit pretty well. He smiled closed-mouthed over at her as he chewed his food – not wanting to disgust her by giving her a full view of his half-chewed food – and when she took a seat on the log beside him and gave him a smile.

”Yeah, well, I mean I’m doing my best. And thanks. My dad taught me how to cook game.” He said, offering her a fork to eat the meat with. When she thanked him he just shrugged again, but there was an arrogance in his smile that he couldn’t hide. ”That’s only ‘cause I’m the most reliable guy around. You should get used to being in debt to me.”

He nodded firmly, then took another forkful of his meat.

Cliff felt even better when she didn’t oppose his statement. Good! He was great and obviously a great friend. Where would Cleo be without him? Still moping and sad in the woods, probably. He tried to ignore the sadness that thought gave him as he focused, instead on Cleo saying he would be good in culinary arts.

That made him smile a little, and maybe he’d thought about switching, but he didn’t know. He put the fork on the plate and folded his knees together, resting his chin on the point where they met. His mom was really good at cooking. They used to cook together all the time. He wasn’t a fan of wood carving, but if he went into cooking... it’d be the same as working with his mom, in the kitchen.

”Thanks. But culinary arts is like, the kitchen-y stuff. I’m more like, I like doing this a lot.” He said, looking over at Cleo. Now that she was covered up it was much less distracting to look at her. He wondered if she’d be going home or if she’d still want to run away. He could probably hide her in the house if she really wanted to... they had a couch. ”But all the culinary students can bake cakes and I hate baking. I like roasting with a real fire, not a boring stove. I guess I just don’t... want to be in Salem. I’d rather cook Maine fish and stuff. Picking a major I like is kind of like... accepting I’m going to be here for college. When I don’t really know if I want to stay here for college.”

He didn’t know why he was suddenly speaking so seriously – something he’d never told anyone – but he couldn’t stop himself. He took a small bite of his bird, shrugging his shoulders and lamely finishing with a ”you know?”

At the mental image of himself frosting a cake Cliff snorted. He couldn’t see that, either. Cake making was something his mom could do, but him? He didn’t have the precision for it and he didn’t really like the kitchen. But he loved cooking, especially out here on the fire!

He glanced over at Cleo when she said she understood how he felt not wanting to get attached to the place. But, then, she asked him if he had any friends back in Maine and that made him think. Logan was right when she said he was just fabricating. He had friends, back when he was in elementary school, but they were all grown now. He had no one who he could stay with and he didn’t even know if half of his neighbors still lived where they used to.

”uh... No. I mean, I have a few on Facebook but we don’t talk.” He said. ”Maybe the police would know who I am but they’d just sent me right back here, to be with my stupid mom and her stupid husband and their stupid daughter,” he complained, bitterly. ”But if I can go to college up there, then maybe – maybe I can make friends and a life there and move there someday! That’s what I really want to do. My dad – I don’t know if I mentioned this but he was a police officer. He died protecting Springfield. And then my mom... she just... she just left Springfield! Like... what the hell...”

Cliff wasn’t surprised she didn’t know. He didn’t tell anyone – not even Noah – when he came here what his dad died doing and what job he’d had. For some reason, though, it came easily when he was talking to Cleo. Especially when she was so empathetic and agreed with him.

He turned to Cleo and nodded in agreement when she called his mother’s actions unfair. He agreed – they were ridiculously unfair.

”I want to go to college there. But college is far away, and I don’t know anyone... well... I could try to message people who I used to know but I just... the police wouldn’t! They’d hand me back to my mom the second I ran away! You know how dumb the feds can be when I’m only 15. My dad wouldn’t be that lame. But I just don’t want to risk my mom lecturing me without having a place to stay. I hate being 15. Why am I not an adult yet? I should be considered one. I’m more reliable than my mom and her stupid husband.” He glanced over at Cleo and inched a little closer, thinking about who he could message. ”There’s this one guy who used to be in my class, Robin, and he’s the only guy I really think would be a ‘friend’ from back then... maybe I can message him.”

”If I could... go to Maine again...” He trailed off. The notion was so ridiculous! His mother would never willingly go back there, especially not if it would make precious John uncomfortable to be in his wife’s ex-husband’s hometown. Plus even if they went back, his mom wouldn’t get it. She wouldn’t get his reasons and she wouldn’t be interested in going to Springfield again. She also would never let him to off on his own to meet this Robin guy anyway! She’d sprout all this crap about not really ‘knowing’ him, when she’d only known John for a few years before marrying the ass.

But when she said we, a different possibility popped up. What if they, just him and Cleo, went? They could take a bus up the coast, and a train, and shuttles, and anything that would get him up to Maine! He turned more fully towards Cleo, and at the warmth of her grin, his own turned mischievous and filled with life. ”My mom would just drag us down, and complain the whole time. But if we could take a bus or something, on a weekend, I could just tell my mom I’m out camping. She won’t even realize I’m gone!”

When she suggested a car, Cliff’s mouth opened in shock. No way! She had a car that they could take! That was so... exciting! Invigorating! Illegal! He loved it. He was sure he could talk to that guy he got along with who worked at the mechanics shop to get him a fake license if he needed one!

”No way, seriously?! That’d be awesome!” Cliff said, and it was the perfect cover-up, too! Now, all that was left was driving because... as Cleo asked the question, Cliff had to think about his prior experience. He didn’t have much... but he had a permit! ”I do have a permit! I am... a great driver!”

Well, that was a lie, but uh... he was sure it wouldn’t be too hard to go cross country!

”Yeah, yeah it’s totally not hard!” Cliff enthused, and even though he was exaggerating now he knew that he’d figure out how to drive by the time they left! He wondered what it’d be like driving all the way out to Maine! There were probably a lot of highways and people and roads but they could get a Phone GPS right? It’d be easy and they could get back before his mom ever found out – if she could tear herself away from her family long enough to realize he took a road trip, anyway. He tried to ignore the bitterness that thought gave him and focused on Cleo’s serious tone.

”Yeah, I won’t tell anyone, not even Noah. The only person I’ll talk to is this guy I know who can get is fake licenses. But he’s super sketchy, like, not official or anything so he won’t tell anyone,” He assured. He knew his mother would get paranoid if he talked about any road trip – she’d ask who with, for phone numbers, for contact info, where they’d be staying, all questions Cliff didn’t want to answer. ”Yeah, I’ve been on a long road trip before with my mom. We’ll need food, money – plenty of it for gas, I’ll talk to Robin for the place to stay, uh, IDs so we don’t get like, arrested, a GPS and to make sure that no one can track us down with ours – should we get a fake license too?”

That would be so cool! He was already so excited and they hadn’t even confirmed when they’d leave yet!