Catching Rainbows

23

I was dozing with my head on my arms when Hailie's voice woke me later. "Luna! Why are you at this table and not in your bed? That's so weird! And you're wearing clothes AND have your makeup all over your face done already! And it's still dark outside. I'm so confused," she said, but not in a tantrumy way, which thank God because I was totally wiped.

"I heard some noises I had to check out last night so I got dressed," I said, keeping it simple. It was 5:10 and the first birds were just tweeting outside. My coffee was cold, my phone had no messages or calls. "Let's get you dressed," I said, draining the rest of the cup and taking my phone with us.

She was watching TV and eating Cinnamon Chex--but only the cinnamon ones because she'd asked that I pick out the plain ones--half an hour later when my phone finally rang. I went out onto the front porch. It smelled strongly of early summer mornings, appropriately enough. "Hey," I answered, my mouth going dry.

"They took him, you were right," she said, sounding amazed. "He can usually talk his way out of shit, you know?"

I knew. I'd seen it over and over with my stepfather. "Are you okay?"

"For now," she said, forcing a laugh that betrayed her anxiety. "He told them he was playing pool and couldn't get a hold of me so he walked over to see if my car was here. And that's when his wallet must have fallen out."

"Wow," I said. "Really?" He expected them to believe that?

"I acted like I was totally surprised at the accusations and backed him up, but I don't think they believed me. Especially the woman."

No, because she knew better. "Who's bailing him out?"

"His parents," she said with disgust. "Their golden boy can do no wrong. My stepmom's probably there offering to pay, though his family's far from poor."

"Come over," I said without thinking. "Or, you probably can't," I added. He would be home soon enough.

"I can, if you want," she said, almost shyly. "It's hella early though. You probably want to get some sleep."

"Nope. I'm up for now. Just park in the back so he doesn't see your car if he drives by."

"I'll do that. You're sure?" The hopeful undertone warmed my heart.

"I'm sure," I assured her. "If you promise not to look at the bags under my eyes."

"Oh my God, shut up, mine are all red."

"I'm sure you're still beautiful," I said, meaning it.

"Oh my God," she said again. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but if it was a mix-up, I hope no one realizes it and corrects it."

She was so freaking cute. I was the lucky one. "Aw. See you in a few, I'll make fresh coffee since I'm drinking this crap from yesterday."

"Okay, I'm leaving. Thanks, Luna. For everything. For understanding."

"Always," I said, and if it sounded like a promise that was fine, because that's what it was.

She showed up half an hour later with mochas and chocolate muffins and even a new variety pack of gluten free stuff, which I hid away after taking an energy bar from it and bribing Hailie to let us talk. Luckily she was having a lower-key morning, which happened once in a blue moon, and was content to read her Babysitters Club Little Sisters book while laying upside down on the couch, so we went upstairs to the roof.

I shut the window behind us as Chloe sank into my chair, careful not to spill her drink. I was still reeling from the hug she'd given me in greeting and I handed her a joint to spark because she looked stressed to the max. A little wake and bake never hurt anyone. Her hair was in a messy bun and she had no makeup on, her eyes indeed puffy and red. But I was at that point where someone becomes so kind-of-perfect to you, you barely notice any flaws. Or they just add to the endearment.

"It's okay to smoke this up here? I don't normally this early," she said, putting it between her lips anyway.

I pulled my zip-up hoodie around me a little tighter. Six was usually the coldest part of the night, though it was technically daytime now. "Yeah, the cafe is usually closed."

She looked up at something in my voice, sparking the lighter and applying the flame as she inhaled. "It really hurts your business," she said, her words smoky and muffled.

I made a face. "Yeah, it sucks. If only we could buy it. Haha." I sipped my mocha, which was perfect, and wished everything was simple and we could just go back to sleep, together, in my bed, all cuddled up and warm and soft and--

"Oh, the glass people are coming in like half an hour," she said holding out the joint to me.

"The what?" I asked stupidly as I took it.

"The people who are going to replace your windows," she clarified.

"I can't let you do that," I said automatically, but I kind of had to because we did not have money for putting in new windows.

"Oh, I'll take it out of his account, not that he'll even notice," she assured me. She gestured for me to smoke and I did. "Do you have paint for the graffiti?"

"I think there's half a gallon left."I handed her back the joint. "He's not very original. I knew he did it before we found the wallet." I tried to stifle a yawn.

"I'm sorry," she said. She took one last small hit and said, "I'm good, you want any more?"

I shook my head and drank some more mocha as she gently snuffed it out. My eyes were gritty from lack of sleep but I was so glad she was on my roof with me, regardless of the circumstances. Brown towhees chirped relentlessly as the sun began to bleed a glow into the clouds.

"C'mon, let's get the painting done."

I found the can and a couple of brushes and told Hailie we would be out front "doing gardening" which was something she found quite boring and had no interest in. Then I led Chloe to the covered front door and got ready to pull off the tarp.

"I don't want to see," she said, covering her eyes theatrically to make fun of herself, but meaning it.

"I've heard it before," I assured her, yanking the blue plastic so it came untacked and slid down to pool at our feet. "And it could have been worse."

She took away her hands and opened one eye a little to squint at the block letters, then covered them again. "I hate him. I hope he dies. That would solve everything."

I felt my eyebrows go up at her vehemence but I didn't disagree as I pried the lid off the can with a flathead screwdriver. The slate blue covered my brush easily and I wiped it across the DIKE part.

She dipped her brush too and joined me, her jaw clenched. "Son of a bitch," she muttered as she glanced at the tarps over the windows, the broken glass sprinkling the grass. "He's going to pay for this," she vowed, side-eyeing me so I could see she was serious.

"Oh, I know," I said mildly, painting all the way to the bottom since we had enough. It was high quality, and covered the spray paint in one layer, though I did a second one over the hateful letters just to be safe.

"And I don't mean the just the monetary cost, either," she added, stretching up to do reach the top while I admired the view.

"Me neither," I said, because I was thinking of this book I'd once been given as a joke, called 101 Ways To Get Revenge On Some Asshole Who Deserves It.

I remembered the important things from it.