Chapter Text
Sinclair’s POV.
I hug my mom goodbye with a smile, chuckling as she jokes about me getting lost in the words or getting murdered. In half an hour, I’m hiking up the trail in the pine forest with my best pal, Harold Finch. However, upon remembering the roast in the oven, she runs back into the house and I walk over to the edge of the block to be picked up by Harold. When I reach the spot I pull my walkman out of my duffle bag and plug in my headphones, it takes me a minute to get my “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” cassette tape and put it in. By the time the music blasts in my ears, Harold pulls up in his rusty blue pickup with a shit-eating grin on his stupid freckled face that tells me he’s likely made a bad decision.
“Sup loser! Hop in before my dad gets here and tears me a new asshole!” He shouts. There it is, the mistake. I wonder what he did and the prospect of his dad coming here means he’s being chased down due to his mistake. Either way, I don’t want to find out and toss my bags into the bed of his truck before hopping on. As I look behind me, gripping the truck's sides so I don’t fall off, I see his father's red 1980 Toyota Corolla speeding towards us. Harold steps on the gas pedal and races down the street, quickly losing him as he finally starts toward the trail.
Laughing nervously, I run my hand through my hair, feeling the wind beating against my skin from Harold speeding. I sit down on the back of the truck, peering through the rear window to try and signal Harold to slow his reckless driving, and he does. Thank God, imagine the news; “Local Idiot Falls Off a Speeding Pickups Truckbed”. Despite the ease it brings me, I can feel his eyes piercing through my soul from the rearview mirror, but I try to ignore it for as long as I can and focus on the thrill of the ride, the wind in my face, and the sun shining down on me. It all feels amazing and freeing, and I’m glad Harold suggested this to take my mind off the more stressful things.
So much had been going on, the bills, the hospital visits, the counselor meeting with my parents, the questioning. Dad has been questioning me for days and won’t let up, it’s driving me insane. Honestly, it would be easier getting busted with F’s or drugs than the questioning. For now, though, I can take my mind off it with this hike, with my friend, and finally be at peace.