Chapter Six

Six as promised

Chapter 6

The instant his tires screeched along the road my body tensed, tightening around him. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed myself into his back, praying that I would live to see tomorrow. My fingers held the damp material of his shirt so tight I was sure my knuckles were white. I could feel him laugh and I wanted to hit him, but didn't dare let go of his shirt, which made him laugh harder. We rounded a corner and I heard the tires squeal. My heart-rate sped up and I clutched Stitch tighter. The bike skidded, seeming like it would tip over. I screamed, but the sound was was muffled by the helmet I wore. The rain stung my skin as we ripped down the street. I wondered how Stitch was dealing with it without a helmet; it hurt me, and I had something, someone to protect me. We started losing speed and Stitch Took a sharp turn, the engine revving dangerously, making me scream again.

Stitch suddenly turned onto a backroad and pulled up to an apartment building and parked. He sat up, nearly knocking me backward and dismounted. I still clung tightly to his shirt, and he seemed amused by this, turning to look at me, his bright green eyes sparkling against his pale rain-soaked skin. He smiled, glancing down at my fingers still locked onto his shirt and placed his hands on top of mine. For a brief moment my vision failed me and I was sucked back into the world of dreams. It was Stitch before me, his hands on mine just like now, but instead of helping me off a bike, he helped me down from a carriage, dressed in a nice tailcoat, and I in a Victorian style gown. Just as soon as the images appeared, they vanished and I found myself looking into Stitch's eyes. They were worried, if not slightly suspicious. I shook my head, and stepped off the bike, releasing him from my hold. He then turned and walked to stand under the awning in front of the building. I shook my head, raising my hands and asking with my body, “What the heck are you doing?” He just smirked, and motioned for me to join him. Rolling my eyes I took off the helmet and hooked it on the handlebars and dashed under the cover.

“This sure as heck doesn't look like the school.” I growled, rubbing my arms in a futile attempt to warm myself. I was starting to wish I had left with Kitty, and hadn't worn a white shirt.

He chuckled. “No, its certainly not the school,” he said smugly.

I rounded on him, “No duh Sherlock! Now why aren't we at the school? Are you kidnapping me?”

He seemed more amused than before. “No, love, if I were kidnapping you, your arms would be tied behind your back and you would have a gag in your mouth and I would be laughing and carrying you over my shoulder back to my castle.”

I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest and turning away from him. “What happened back at the park, Stitch? Who was that guy?”

I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, watching for his reaction. It was slight, but it was there. His eyes darkened for a moment. He shifted his weight to his other leg and sighed.

“No one, don't worry about him.” he said quickly.

“That's not what it looked like. How many 'no ones' get reactions like that from perfect strangers?” I turned back to face him, drawing closer. “Who is he?”

He glared down at me, “No one you need to worry about. That's it.”

“Right, I'm sure! Why won't you tell me? Do you have some deep dark secret about your past? Fallout with a friend? Kill a man?”

His eyes turned dark, and cold. I shrunk away from him, frightened by his sudden change in demeanor. “Why do you always ask so many questions? Isn't my answer sufficient enough for you Laela? My past and my enemies are mine to deal with, if it would please you to leave me alone, I would appreciate it.”

“I'm sure the blond would tell me about it.” I whispered, turning away again.

That hit the spot. “Stay away from him. He's vile and rude, and would throw you under a train if you didn't do exactly what he wanted.” Stitch snapped. I stepped away. “Yes, I saw the way you looked at him, and I know that look.”

I blushed. “Y-you never even looked at me! And so what? Are you jealous that the look wasn't directed at you? Need one more fangirl to add to your ever growing list of casualties?”

He laughed” Oh-ho-ho I looked at you, love, and there was no mistaking that awestruck lovesick puppy look! He's not worth your time.”

“Oh?” That was it, one more straw and I would be walking back to the school. “And you are?”

He didn't say anything in response, just looked at me and smirked.

That curled my toes. “What's that look supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean, Laela.”

I raised my hand to slap him, but something held me back. Instead I ended up shrieking and stamping my foot on the ground like a child. I promptly folded my arms back across my chest and turned away from him, glaring at the buildings down the street. The rain didn't look like it would let up soon, so I began to weigh my options. I could walk back to the school, but walking back could end in my getting more lost than I started, or I could wait here with Stitch until the rain stopped.

“Why aren't we going back to the school?” I muttered.

“The roads are too slick. My bike can't get any tread.” He replied.

“So we're just going to stand out here and freeze?”

He stepped closer, putting his arms around me. “I can keep you warm.”

I shrugged out of his hold and laughed. “So that's the kind of fighter you are? You'll spit venom and then clean it up with a display of kindness? I don't think so! I'll keep myself warm thank you!”

He stepped away from me again. “Suit yourself.” he said, and then rang a buzzer on the wall. “Chandler, let me up.”

I turned to face him, shocked that we had been standing here fighting when he could have gotten us inside twenty minutes ago.

A voice came over the PA. “Whose me?” it asked.

“Stitch, you idiot? Were you expecting someone?”

“Not you, but come on up.”

The door clicked open. Stitch stepped inside and I made a move to follow, but he closed the door and smiled from behind the glass.

“I offered to keep you warm, but you wouldn't have it.”

He left me standing there, glaring after him as he moved to the elevator. He waved and disappeared inside. Growling I turned back to the call box. I scanned the names, not really paying any heed to the apartment numbers. There were three Chandlers on the list. Process of elimination...starting now. I pressed the button for Chandler Lyon, and waited.

“Hello?” He didn't sound the same.

“Oh, hi, I think I may have gotten the wrong Chandler. Unless you know a Stitch Mazzigati.” I said quietly.

There was a long pause. “No, can't say I do. Sorry.”

“Thanks anyway,”

I looked back at the call box. Next.

I pressed the button and waited. “Hello?” AH-HAH! GOTCHA!

“Hi, is Stitch up there yet?” I asked.

“Uh, no, not yet, why? Who are you?”

“I'm Laela, the girl he left standing in the rain outside the building. Could you please let me in? I'm really cold out here.”

I heard Stitch walk through the door. “Chandler what are you doing?” he asked.

“You left a girl outside to freeze in the rain? Some gentleman you are.” Chandler scolded.

I smiled. “Could you let me up? Thanks.”

I heard the door click open. “There ya go, miss.”

Stitch came over the PA next. “You're gonna regret that...”

“If I get up there and to the right room, you'll tell me who the blond is?”

“Yes, but good luck.”

He stopped talking and I walked through the door and staight to the attendant at the desk. “Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me what apartment number I could find a Chandler Hartwicke in.” I asked politely.

“You Laela Price?” he replied.

“Nope, my name is Sammy Lorien. I'm Chandler's friend from America... we had spotty reception when he gave me his room number... so if you could be a dear.”

“They said you would use a fake name, so they described you. I'm not supposed to help you up to his room.”

I glared. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Sorry,”

So this is the game he wants to play, fine. I walked to the elevator and pressed a random number and rode it up, walked down the hall to a random room and knocked on the door. An elderly gentleman answered, smiling up at me.

“Good afternoon sir, I'm a little lost. Do you know a boy named Chandler Hartwicke?” I asked.

“Oh, Chandler... yes. He's actually right down the hall. Seventeen B.” he replied, pointing out the way.

I nodded a thank you and walked down the hall and found 17 B. I was good. That, or Fate favored me for that brief and shining moment. Taking a deep breath I knocked on the door. Quicker than I thought it would have, the door swung open, revealing an older boy with dark hair and square glasses, and a rather sour looking Stitch.

“Name, now.” I ordered.