"Okay, if I'm gonna let you help me, meet my friends, you need to be normal," Wyatt said.
He was standing in Angie's bedroom. Her folks were gone for the day, and he told Calvin and Rachel they would come pick them up once he had his "supplier", though he didn't really know what he meant by that seeing as Angie wasn't even the one who had drugs, she just knew where they could be obtained. Angie tilted her head at him, a confused look on her face.
"Am I normally not?" she asked, sounding almost hurt.
"No, no, don't take it to mean that," Wyatt said, "no, I just mean, uh...you gotta be...ya know, socially acceptable."
"Oh, well, that's so different," Angie said, sneering. Wyatt sighed and sat down on her bed, scratching the back of his head.
"You just can't be going on about worship and stuff, you'll freak 'em out and Rachel's already on edge cause of her hallucinations and...and Calvin, that's a whole other can of worms altogether. That guy is always one light switch short of mass murder, it seems like," Wyatt said, running his face through his hands and sighing, adding, "You say you wanna help me, then help me. Please."
"What makes you even think I know where to look," Angie asked, crossing her legs as she sat in her desk chair.
"Because you were part of The Evergreens, and groups like that aren't going over the counter," Wyatt said, "you know someone downtown has some kind of hook up. We're not even looking for a technically illegal substance. Just antipsychotics. And knowing you...the issues you deal with..."
Angie grimaced, then sighed, nodding.
"Alright," she said, "I know where we can go."
***
Before joining the Evergreens, Angie was...well....it'd be a lie to say she was 'normal', but she was moderately plain at best. Despite her family's involvement, then exit, from a cult early in life, she lived a fairly ordinary childhood. She went to school, she had friends, she participated in after school activities. On the surface, Angie Dickenson seemed to be just your average everyday young lady. But nobody saw the things she saw in her head. They had no way of knowing just how sick she actually was. Because to look at her from afar, in her pretty dress with her femme appearance and her cheeerful demeanor, you'd never guess she saw things that weren't there, or heard things nobody else heard. You'd never guess she wasn't like you.
It really started in earnest when she was a teenager.
After spending a good chunk of her youth in the cult with her parents, and eventually leaving, she started to cling to the belief that she was destined for more, because, well, for all of her adolescence that was the line she'd been fed by their leader. When she started to hear a voice telling her how she could achieve 'more', she listened. She started harrassing other students at school, but never gave her parents shit. After a while, her folks knew they couldn't let this continue unchecked, so they got Angie into therapy, and on various medications and, for the most part, it all seemed to calm down. She wound up joining the Evergreens and then...and then she met Wyatt Bloom.
And it started all over again.
***
"How do you even know this girl?" Calvin asked, as he and Wyatt stood outside Wyatt's car, Angie in the front passenger seat, as they waited for Rachel to come down from her apartment.
"It's a long story," Wyatt said.
"I'm not goin' anywhere," Calvin replied.
"She was part of the Evergreens, but she left," Wyatt said, "since I apparently convinced her not to be involved with them, she didn't end up on the plane, and now she wants to thank me however she can. I guess finding street drugs is one way of helping me. Frankly, I don't want to be involved with her whatsoever, she creeps me the hell out, but..." Wyatt sighed and looked back up at the apartment building, adding, "...but Rachel needs help, and I want to help Rachel be okay."
Calvin smiled weakly. He was glad Wyatt did seem to genuinely care about Rachel, that they were in fact actual friends. She deserved that kind of support. Finally Rachel came out of the front doors of the apartment building and jogged up to them, looking anxious and nervy.
"You doin' okay, sport?" Wyatt asked, hitting her on the shoulder.
"What are you, my little league coach?" Rachel asked, making them both laugh; she added, "come on, let's just...let's just do this, yeah? I can't be like this for another day."
Rachel pulled open the back door to the car and climbed in as Calvin went around to the other side, also entering. Wyatt climbed back into the drivers side seat and started the car back up once everyone's seat belt was fastened. He exhaled, pulled away from the curb and started to drive towards an area of town they all often avoided, primarily because it was associated with the exact kind of activity they were attempting today. As they pulled into the street and immediately hit traffic, Wyatt sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.
"So you used to be on antipsychotics?" Rachel asked, leaning between the front seats, talking to Angie.
"I was, yeah," Angie replied, "and, well, maybe I still should be, but that's hard to determine."
"Well I really appreciate your help," Rachel said, "I don't have the kind of insurance or money that would cover medication, so, seriously...this...this means a lot."
Angie smiled. She was happy to help, after all it's what she'd been doing most of her life. Helping. Course, all Wyatt could think of with both Angie and Calvin together in the car is how Angie had no idea that the very man who nearly killed her was sitting right behind her. Wyatt rolled his window down, put his arm out and chewed on his lip.
"So," Calvin asked, "where are we going?"
A pause as Wyatt glanced at Angie and then sighed.
"Stonyham," Wyatt said.
***
Of all the people to know what Stonyham was, Wyatt was the last one you'd expect. Stonyham was a small suburb about 40 minutes away from where they lived, and was often the place where, in high school, teenagers would frequent for their obtaining of illicit narcotics and alcohol. The only reason Wyatt even knew what it was was because before meeting Scarlett, he and Amelia had gone up there to try and get something one weekend. It had been Amelia's idea, surprisingly enough, because she'd read in a book somewhere that eating mushrooms could make you hallucinate, and she wanted that vivid experience to help her come up with new ideas. Wyatt, being the supportive boyfriend he was, was on board, albeit hesitantly.
After finding out from another kid on his baseball team where exactly to get such a hookup, Wyatt and Amelia set aside their Saturday night and headed on up to Stonyham. Once they'd acquired the substance, they drove back down to their area - mostly for fear of being robbed while high up there - and parked in a secluded spot where nobody would bother them. They laid on the hood of the car and ate the mushrooms together, then watched the night sky overhead. Looking back on it years later, this would be one of the best memories from Wyatt's high school years, and in hindsight, it only made him feel even worse for how things with Amelia had gone down. Lying there, staring up at the stars above, Wyatt could feel Amelia lace her fingers in his and he smiled.
"What if the universe is just a falsehood, like a...a tulpa, cause we believe in it, so that makes it real, but it doesn't actually exist in a tangible sense?" Amelia asked.
"That's...that's a lot, right now," Wyatt replied, the both of them laughing.
"It just seems like too much is too perfect," Amelia continued, "like how the food cycle exists so circularly, like it was designed to be that way, when really it's just random happenstance."
"I don't wanna go home," Wyatt said suddenly, feeling clammy and anxious.
"Why?" Amelia asked.
"I'm scared of my dad," Wyatt whispered, rolling onto his side on the hood and looking at Amelia, who did the same. Wyatt looked at her, his eyes wide, like he was about to cry, "will you protect me?"
"I'll protect you," Amelia whispered, reaching out and touching his face gently, bringing to him a sense of calm.
Yes, this was the only time he'd ever openly admitted being scared of his father, and it was to the one girl he'd wind up hurting the most in his life. Wyatt regretted a lot of his actions, but the way he ended things with Amelia still topped the list, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to say sorry, or that she'd even accept his apology if he managed to. He didn't want to make that kind of mistake again. Perhaps that explained his patience with Angie, despite her clearly mentally unwell state of being, but all Wyatt really knew was that he trusted women far more than he trusted men, and so if Angie told him to go to Stonyham, he'd go to Stonyham, especially if it meant helping Rachel. After Amelia, Wyatt made a vow to himself to never hurt another woman again, and instead to do what he could to help them.
And he'd almost keep that promise.
***
"You ever think about the fact that your hair and nails keep growing after you die?" Rachel asked, looking at her hand, "that drives me insane. I have to not only be dead, but I also have to be unkempt?"
"Frankly I think between the two being dead is the worse part," Calvin said.
"They should have beauticians that come by and open up coffins for like the first year after death, keep you looking presentable, even if you're not being presented to anyone," Angie said, "it's just common courtesy."
"Guys, could you lighten up a bit, this is kinda grim," Wyatt said as he headed onto the small bridge that led into Stonyham, the others all chuckling at him. Rachel leaned back in her seat and admired her nails once more. Calvin looked out the window at the water below them and thought about how he and his sister used to go swimming up at their grandparents lake cabin, and how much he missed that. How much he missed her. Seemed he was always drawn to the water in one way or another, like when he'd shredded all those files with Wyatt and Celia.
"It's genuinely terrifying," Rachel said softly from the backseat, fidgeting with her hands, "knowing something isn't real, yet seeing it, and thus gaslighting yourself int believing it could be. You begin to question your own eyes and sense of reality. It warps everything, throws all of being into question. Some people can handle it, but...I'm not one of those people."
"Well, we're gonna get you fixed right up," Wyatt said, "don't worry, we'll find something for you."
Rachel smiled, feeling extremely lucky to have the kinds of friends she did. Had she known back in high school that one day Wyatt Bloom and Calvin Klepper would be assisting her in any way they could to help her mental faculties, she would've scoffed at the idea, and yet, now, here they were doing just that. Seemed preposterous. As they pulled into a small neighborhood, Angie patted Wyatt on the arm a few times, then motioned for him to pull over here, so he did. As the car came to a slow crawl and finally stopped, Angie looked at Wyatt, and Wyatt sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing her a wad of cash.
"Don't overspend," Wyatt said.
"It costs what it costs," Angie replied, "you don't haggle with drug dealers, that's how you wind up dead. Seeing as I've already skirted death by a hair once, I'm not looking to do it again."
With that, Angie exited the car, and Calvin, surprising the others, offered to go with her. Wyatt watched them exit into a building, and then he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Rachel climbed up into the front seat and pulled her knees up to her chest on the chair, resting her chin on them.
"You alright?" Wyatt asked.
"I don't know," Rachel said, shrugging, "I just wish my parents cared more. They just see all my problems as self imposed. People of that generation, anything that's wrong with someone is either made up or something of their own doing. My parents know I was almost sexually assaulted, they know I see things, but they just...don't care. They prefer to ignore them, because oh no, their perfect little girl might make them social pariahs if they acknowledge any of her faults."
"Do they know you're gay?" Wyatt asked, and Rachel shook her head, chuckling.
"Fuck no," she said, "god, could you imagine? Being mentally ill and queer? They'd outright disown me. My dad, once when I was back from college after the assault and after I'd started hallucinating, I overheard him say to my mom that watching me was like watching a slow motion car accident."
Wyatt felt bad for Rachel. It was clear she'd struggled to connect with her own family, and being someone who also struggled to connect with his, particularly his father, he knew that pain. His thoughts then turned to Mona. Hopefully he wasn't being that way with her. Hopefully he was doing things right. The last thing he wanted was for her to look back on her childhood and feel let down, and not because he'd feel like a failure, but because she'd be upset. He sighed and scratched his forehead.
"Having kids is easy," he said, "raising kids is hard. Anyone can have them, but raising them? Being nurturing? That's just something a lot of people think they have in them, but they don't. Not really. They think they can do it, but when it comes down to it, they can't. And it's fine, it's not for everyone, but what's the worst is when people have kids regardless of knowing they can't do it properly. Then they just...damage another person. You deserved a better family, Rachel, I'm so sorry."
Rachel looked at Wyatt, her face wet with tears, as she leaned in against him and rested her face on his chest, and he reached up and stroked her hair while she cried.
"Why don't they want me," she whimpered, and Wyatt shook his head.
"I don't know," Wyatt said, whispering back, "but we do. That has to count for something."
Rachel smiled and nodded, continuing to cry and hugging him. After a bit, Angie and Calvin returned, pills in hand. Angie returned what was left of Wyatt's money, and together, the group drove out of Stonyham. This was the last time Wyatt ever wanted to come here. Life was dangerous enough with spending it in a run down inner city suburb. By the time they got back to their part of town, Wyatt suggested they get dinner, and offered to pay. The four of them ate a family restaurant, and had a pretty good time doing so. Even Rachel, who just an hour before had been in a precariously emotional state, was having a great time with them, and Wyatt felt like, if she didn't have a good family, he'd have to be the next best thing.
She deserved that much.
***
After dropping everyone else off, Wyatt pulled up to Angie's parents place and parked. Angie gathered her small backpack and climbed out of the car, then leaned back in through the rolled down passenger window and looked at Wyatt, who looked back at her with uncertainty, unsure of what she wanted.
"...thanks for including me," Angie said, "it feels nice, to be a part of something again. After leaving the Evergreens, it felt like I didn't really have a purpose. I'm glad to be able to help."
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Wyatt said, "not to be rude, but I just don't foresee many instances where we'll require your specific kind of help. But, you know, if you want to just hang out with us, you're free to."
Angie felt her heart swell with joy, and she had to fight to hold back tears.
"You know," Angie said, "when I was little, my parents and I were in a cult."
"Seems to be a common occurance with you," Wyatt said, making her snort, laughing.
"Yeah, well," she said, "Some people just function better in a restrictive situation like that. Anyway, ever since that dissolved, I looked for another place to feel...needed. The Evergreens were great, but, you were right. I was following a martyr who didn't deserve matyrdom. I don't want to die for a cause I don't believe in, just because others are. But you, Wyatt, you're someone worth following. You would've made a great cult leader."
With that, Angie said goodnight, then headed inside, leaving Wyatt in his car, speechless. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and let his forehead hit the center of the wheel, beeping a soft honk.
"Dammit," he whispered.
He was standing in Angie's bedroom. Her folks were gone for the day, and he told Calvin and Rachel they would come pick them up once he had his "supplier", though he didn't really know what he meant by that seeing as Angie wasn't even the one who had drugs, she just knew where they could be obtained. Angie tilted her head at him, a confused look on her face.
"Am I normally not?" she asked, sounding almost hurt.
"No, no, don't take it to mean that," Wyatt said, "no, I just mean, uh...you gotta be...ya know, socially acceptable."
"Oh, well, that's so different," Angie said, sneering. Wyatt sighed and sat down on her bed, scratching the back of his head.
"You just can't be going on about worship and stuff, you'll freak 'em out and Rachel's already on edge cause of her hallucinations and...and Calvin, that's a whole other can of worms altogether. That guy is always one light switch short of mass murder, it seems like," Wyatt said, running his face through his hands and sighing, adding, "You say you wanna help me, then help me. Please."
"What makes you even think I know where to look," Angie asked, crossing her legs as she sat in her desk chair.
"Because you were part of The Evergreens, and groups like that aren't going over the counter," Wyatt said, "you know someone downtown has some kind of hook up. We're not even looking for a technically illegal substance. Just antipsychotics. And knowing you...the issues you deal with..."
Angie grimaced, then sighed, nodding.
"Alright," she said, "I know where we can go."
***
Before joining the Evergreens, Angie was...well....it'd be a lie to say she was 'normal', but she was moderately plain at best. Despite her family's involvement, then exit, from a cult early in life, she lived a fairly ordinary childhood. She went to school, she had friends, she participated in after school activities. On the surface, Angie Dickenson seemed to be just your average everyday young lady. But nobody saw the things she saw in her head. They had no way of knowing just how sick she actually was. Because to look at her from afar, in her pretty dress with her femme appearance and her cheeerful demeanor, you'd never guess she saw things that weren't there, or heard things nobody else heard. You'd never guess she wasn't like you.
It really started in earnest when she was a teenager.
After spending a good chunk of her youth in the cult with her parents, and eventually leaving, she started to cling to the belief that she was destined for more, because, well, for all of her adolescence that was the line she'd been fed by their leader. When she started to hear a voice telling her how she could achieve 'more', she listened. She started harrassing other students at school, but never gave her parents shit. After a while, her folks knew they couldn't let this continue unchecked, so they got Angie into therapy, and on various medications and, for the most part, it all seemed to calm down. She wound up joining the Evergreens and then...and then she met Wyatt Bloom.
And it started all over again.
***
"How do you even know this girl?" Calvin asked, as he and Wyatt stood outside Wyatt's car, Angie in the front passenger seat, as they waited for Rachel to come down from her apartment.
"It's a long story," Wyatt said.
"I'm not goin' anywhere," Calvin replied.
"She was part of the Evergreens, but she left," Wyatt said, "since I apparently convinced her not to be involved with them, she didn't end up on the plane, and now she wants to thank me however she can. I guess finding street drugs is one way of helping me. Frankly, I don't want to be involved with her whatsoever, she creeps me the hell out, but..." Wyatt sighed and looked back up at the apartment building, adding, "...but Rachel needs help, and I want to help Rachel be okay."
Calvin smiled weakly. He was glad Wyatt did seem to genuinely care about Rachel, that they were in fact actual friends. She deserved that kind of support. Finally Rachel came out of the front doors of the apartment building and jogged up to them, looking anxious and nervy.
"You doin' okay, sport?" Wyatt asked, hitting her on the shoulder.
"What are you, my little league coach?" Rachel asked, making them both laugh; she added, "come on, let's just...let's just do this, yeah? I can't be like this for another day."
Rachel pulled open the back door to the car and climbed in as Calvin went around to the other side, also entering. Wyatt climbed back into the drivers side seat and started the car back up once everyone's seat belt was fastened. He exhaled, pulled away from the curb and started to drive towards an area of town they all often avoided, primarily because it was associated with the exact kind of activity they were attempting today. As they pulled into the street and immediately hit traffic, Wyatt sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.
"So you used to be on antipsychotics?" Rachel asked, leaning between the front seats, talking to Angie.
"I was, yeah," Angie replied, "and, well, maybe I still should be, but that's hard to determine."
"Well I really appreciate your help," Rachel said, "I don't have the kind of insurance or money that would cover medication, so, seriously...this...this means a lot."
Angie smiled. She was happy to help, after all it's what she'd been doing most of her life. Helping. Course, all Wyatt could think of with both Angie and Calvin together in the car is how Angie had no idea that the very man who nearly killed her was sitting right behind her. Wyatt rolled his window down, put his arm out and chewed on his lip.
"So," Calvin asked, "where are we going?"
A pause as Wyatt glanced at Angie and then sighed.
"Stonyham," Wyatt said.
***
Of all the people to know what Stonyham was, Wyatt was the last one you'd expect. Stonyham was a small suburb about 40 minutes away from where they lived, and was often the place where, in high school, teenagers would frequent for their obtaining of illicit narcotics and alcohol. The only reason Wyatt even knew what it was was because before meeting Scarlett, he and Amelia had gone up there to try and get something one weekend. It had been Amelia's idea, surprisingly enough, because she'd read in a book somewhere that eating mushrooms could make you hallucinate, and she wanted that vivid experience to help her come up with new ideas. Wyatt, being the supportive boyfriend he was, was on board, albeit hesitantly.
After finding out from another kid on his baseball team where exactly to get such a hookup, Wyatt and Amelia set aside their Saturday night and headed on up to Stonyham. Once they'd acquired the substance, they drove back down to their area - mostly for fear of being robbed while high up there - and parked in a secluded spot where nobody would bother them. They laid on the hood of the car and ate the mushrooms together, then watched the night sky overhead. Looking back on it years later, this would be one of the best memories from Wyatt's high school years, and in hindsight, it only made him feel even worse for how things with Amelia had gone down. Lying there, staring up at the stars above, Wyatt could feel Amelia lace her fingers in his and he smiled.
"What if the universe is just a falsehood, like a...a tulpa, cause we believe in it, so that makes it real, but it doesn't actually exist in a tangible sense?" Amelia asked.
"That's...that's a lot, right now," Wyatt replied, the both of them laughing.
"It just seems like too much is too perfect," Amelia continued, "like how the food cycle exists so circularly, like it was designed to be that way, when really it's just random happenstance."
"I don't wanna go home," Wyatt said suddenly, feeling clammy and anxious.
"Why?" Amelia asked.
"I'm scared of my dad," Wyatt whispered, rolling onto his side on the hood and looking at Amelia, who did the same. Wyatt looked at her, his eyes wide, like he was about to cry, "will you protect me?"
"I'll protect you," Amelia whispered, reaching out and touching his face gently, bringing to him a sense of calm.
Yes, this was the only time he'd ever openly admitted being scared of his father, and it was to the one girl he'd wind up hurting the most in his life. Wyatt regretted a lot of his actions, but the way he ended things with Amelia still topped the list, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to say sorry, or that she'd even accept his apology if he managed to. He didn't want to make that kind of mistake again. Perhaps that explained his patience with Angie, despite her clearly mentally unwell state of being, but all Wyatt really knew was that he trusted women far more than he trusted men, and so if Angie told him to go to Stonyham, he'd go to Stonyham, especially if it meant helping Rachel. After Amelia, Wyatt made a vow to himself to never hurt another woman again, and instead to do what he could to help them.
And he'd almost keep that promise.
***
"You ever think about the fact that your hair and nails keep growing after you die?" Rachel asked, looking at her hand, "that drives me insane. I have to not only be dead, but I also have to be unkempt?"
"Frankly I think between the two being dead is the worse part," Calvin said.
"They should have beauticians that come by and open up coffins for like the first year after death, keep you looking presentable, even if you're not being presented to anyone," Angie said, "it's just common courtesy."
"Guys, could you lighten up a bit, this is kinda grim," Wyatt said as he headed onto the small bridge that led into Stonyham, the others all chuckling at him. Rachel leaned back in her seat and admired her nails once more. Calvin looked out the window at the water below them and thought about how he and his sister used to go swimming up at their grandparents lake cabin, and how much he missed that. How much he missed her. Seemed he was always drawn to the water in one way or another, like when he'd shredded all those files with Wyatt and Celia.
"It's genuinely terrifying," Rachel said softly from the backseat, fidgeting with her hands, "knowing something isn't real, yet seeing it, and thus gaslighting yourself int believing it could be. You begin to question your own eyes and sense of reality. It warps everything, throws all of being into question. Some people can handle it, but...I'm not one of those people."
"Well, we're gonna get you fixed right up," Wyatt said, "don't worry, we'll find something for you."
Rachel smiled, feeling extremely lucky to have the kinds of friends she did. Had she known back in high school that one day Wyatt Bloom and Calvin Klepper would be assisting her in any way they could to help her mental faculties, she would've scoffed at the idea, and yet, now, here they were doing just that. Seemed preposterous. As they pulled into a small neighborhood, Angie patted Wyatt on the arm a few times, then motioned for him to pull over here, so he did. As the car came to a slow crawl and finally stopped, Angie looked at Wyatt, and Wyatt sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing her a wad of cash.
"Don't overspend," Wyatt said.
"It costs what it costs," Angie replied, "you don't haggle with drug dealers, that's how you wind up dead. Seeing as I've already skirted death by a hair once, I'm not looking to do it again."
With that, Angie exited the car, and Calvin, surprising the others, offered to go with her. Wyatt watched them exit into a building, and then he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Rachel climbed up into the front seat and pulled her knees up to her chest on the chair, resting her chin on them.
"You alright?" Wyatt asked.
"I don't know," Rachel said, shrugging, "I just wish my parents cared more. They just see all my problems as self imposed. People of that generation, anything that's wrong with someone is either made up or something of their own doing. My parents know I was almost sexually assaulted, they know I see things, but they just...don't care. They prefer to ignore them, because oh no, their perfect little girl might make them social pariahs if they acknowledge any of her faults."
"Do they know you're gay?" Wyatt asked, and Rachel shook her head, chuckling.
"Fuck no," she said, "god, could you imagine? Being mentally ill and queer? They'd outright disown me. My dad, once when I was back from college after the assault and after I'd started hallucinating, I overheard him say to my mom that watching me was like watching a slow motion car accident."
Wyatt felt bad for Rachel. It was clear she'd struggled to connect with her own family, and being someone who also struggled to connect with his, particularly his father, he knew that pain. His thoughts then turned to Mona. Hopefully he wasn't being that way with her. Hopefully he was doing things right. The last thing he wanted was for her to look back on her childhood and feel let down, and not because he'd feel like a failure, but because she'd be upset. He sighed and scratched his forehead.
"Having kids is easy," he said, "raising kids is hard. Anyone can have them, but raising them? Being nurturing? That's just something a lot of people think they have in them, but they don't. Not really. They think they can do it, but when it comes down to it, they can't. And it's fine, it's not for everyone, but what's the worst is when people have kids regardless of knowing they can't do it properly. Then they just...damage another person. You deserved a better family, Rachel, I'm so sorry."
Rachel looked at Wyatt, her face wet with tears, as she leaned in against him and rested her face on his chest, and he reached up and stroked her hair while she cried.
"Why don't they want me," she whimpered, and Wyatt shook his head.
"I don't know," Wyatt said, whispering back, "but we do. That has to count for something."
Rachel smiled and nodded, continuing to cry and hugging him. After a bit, Angie and Calvin returned, pills in hand. Angie returned what was left of Wyatt's money, and together, the group drove out of Stonyham. This was the last time Wyatt ever wanted to come here. Life was dangerous enough with spending it in a run down inner city suburb. By the time they got back to their part of town, Wyatt suggested they get dinner, and offered to pay. The four of them ate a family restaurant, and had a pretty good time doing so. Even Rachel, who just an hour before had been in a precariously emotional state, was having a great time with them, and Wyatt felt like, if she didn't have a good family, he'd have to be the next best thing.
She deserved that much.
***
After dropping everyone else off, Wyatt pulled up to Angie's parents place and parked. Angie gathered her small backpack and climbed out of the car, then leaned back in through the rolled down passenger window and looked at Wyatt, who looked back at her with uncertainty, unsure of what she wanted.
"...thanks for including me," Angie said, "it feels nice, to be a part of something again. After leaving the Evergreens, it felt like I didn't really have a purpose. I'm glad to be able to help."
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Wyatt said, "not to be rude, but I just don't foresee many instances where we'll require your specific kind of help. But, you know, if you want to just hang out with us, you're free to."
Angie felt her heart swell with joy, and she had to fight to hold back tears.
"You know," Angie said, "when I was little, my parents and I were in a cult."
"Seems to be a common occurance with you," Wyatt said, making her snort, laughing.
"Yeah, well," she said, "Some people just function better in a restrictive situation like that. Anyway, ever since that dissolved, I looked for another place to feel...needed. The Evergreens were great, but, you were right. I was following a martyr who didn't deserve matyrdom. I don't want to die for a cause I don't believe in, just because others are. But you, Wyatt, you're someone worth following. You would've made a great cult leader."
With that, Angie said goodnight, then headed inside, leaving Wyatt in his car, speechless. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and let his forehead hit the center of the wheel, beeping a soft honk.
"Dammit," he whispered.