After another hour and a half, Aaron and Peter finally return to my side. They're both panting, yet they look extremely happy.
"Have fun?" I ask them, looking each of them over. Neither of them seem injured in any way.
"Yeah!" They both exclaim at the same time.
I glance at the setting sun and then at my watch. 4:58. "We should be getting home. Dinner'll be soon."
"Aw, Ry. Do we have to?" Aaron asks, clinging to my arm as I put my guitar back in it's case. His blue eyes stare at me and they remind me of Puss in Boot's.
"Yeah, Aaron. Dad is gonna want us home," I say firmly, shaking my arm out of his grip.
"That sucks," Peter grumbles. His face is covered in dust and a bit of his hair is covering his eye.
Gently, I push the hairs out of his eye and then lead them out of the park and across the street, back to our house.
"You're late," dad growls in my ear as I walk through the front door. Aaron and Peter are already in the kitchen, eating their supper.
"There was bad traffic when we were about to cross the street," I explain, staring fearfully at him. "We had to wait until it was safe to cross."
"Excuses," he grumbles, roughly grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me up the stairs. I wince at the pain, as he grabbed me right where my cut is. "I found something interesting in your room while you were gone. I thought you might want to explain."
'Did he find my razor?' I wonder. 'No... He couldn't have. What kind of logic would he have to look under my bed?'
But when he gets to my room, he doesn't go for my mattress. Instead, he picks up a piece of paper lying on my floor next to a box with the lid askew. I recognize the box immediately- it was what I put my private things in.
He forces the piece of paper into my hand and I skim over what's on it.
It's the love letter I was planning to give to Elliot a year ago but never did.