When I woke up again, I was still on the couch and it wasn't much after six in the morning. Chase was still asleep and I was again faced with nothing to do. I thought about taking another shower but instead decided to catch up on the news.

Same old, same old, riots, protest, no other change than that though...

I checked my e-mail and saw that Dallas e-mailed me the time for my job and who I need to speak to. I work today at nine.

I set aside my laptop and got up. I walked—stumbled—into my bedroom where Chase was sleeping peacefully. I grabbed a pair of jean shorts—a nicer pair—and put on a white t-shirt. I pulled on socks and a pair of tennis shoes.

I went into the living room and e-mailed Dallas.

Dear Dallas,

I need more information for my job. What do I wear, what will I be doing—not just busing, I need more info than that—who will I be speaking to and what are they like? Simple questions like that.

Also, I need you to keep this chat about my job strictly between you and me. As much as I love Witterfield knowing what happens outside of our little interrogation chats... I don't.

Meet me at the coffee shop on 25th in ten minutes.

See you then,

Riley Moore/Scarlett Rennal

P. S. If you EVER call me Scar again, I will cut you and GIVE you a scar. Consider that your fair warning...

Send.

I wrote a note to Chase telling him where I was going then walked out the door.

I took the Jeep to the coffee shop and—to my surprise—Dallas was already there, waiting for me, with an iced coffee. My expression must have shown through because when I walked up to Dallas, he said, "What? Didn't expect me to be on time?" A laugh. "Well, I guess you're wrong." He pulled out a chair for me. I sat down. "You have questions?"

I took a sip of the coffee. Then stuck out my tongue in disgust. "Decaf."

"What? I didn't think you'd need caffeine."

"I always need caffeine." EspeCially with the nightmares... "So, about the job. Who will I be talking to?"

"Corbin Randshaw. He is the manager and he'll be telling you what to do."

I tried to relax, but I felt like other eyes were watching me. "Corbin. Got it." I tried to shake off the feeling of being watched but couldn't. "You didn't bring anyone along with you... did you? Like, Witterfield isn't sitting in your fancy car, watching me is he?"

Dallas's focus moved to over my shoulder. "No... why...?"

I shrugged. "I just feel like I'm being watched." I dismissed the feeling to the back of my mind. "Corbin. Okay, so I talk to him and he'll tell me all I need to know?"

"Yep."

"What do I wear?"

"What you're wearing now is fine." He smiled. "You could probably cut back on the makeup though. You have such beautiful white eyes and all the eyeliner is taking away from them."

I rolled my eyes. "You know, eyeliner is meant to bring out my eyes. But, okay, I'll cut back on the makeup. Any other critiques about how I look, or are you just going to hit on me some more. Because, I must warn you, I have a boyfriend and last time I checked, you don't have an eagle." I glanced down at his wrist. "Tuff luck in a society like this, it's a shame no one is trying to change it."

"Dearest Scar,"

"Don't call me Scar! That is not a nickname you can call me! You can call me by my real name, Riley Moore. Actually, Moore is fine with me since I'm not on a first name basis with you, Dallas."

He smiled. "Whatever you want Miss Moore. Or should I say... Miss Less?"

"Ha, ha, ha, very funny."

"I'm just trying to be charming. And about me not having an eagle, maybe you'll change to me, you've already changed once, who's to say you won't change again, Scarlett."

I picked up my ice coffee and took off the lid. "Stay away from me Dallas. I don't need a douche like you trying to hit on me." I threw my coffee on his pants. Dallas stood up, startled by the cold shock. He looked at me with hatred. I shrugged. "What can I say? You had it coming."

I strolled out of the coffee shop, feeling confident.

All my confidence left when I saw, spray painted on the hood of my white Jeep, was the words, "Screw you Unscripted!" in big black lettering.

I ran my finger over it. Dry.

Screw you too.

I kicked the tire of my Jeep and got in—suddenly thankful I didn't take Chase's car—and shoved the keys in the ignition. I drove to the apartment in a rush and grabbed paint remover. I hoped that the remover wouldn't strip the Jeep of its finish.

"Scar? What do you need paint remover for?" Chase asked, following me down to the garage.

"Some dick-head spray painted the hood of the Jeep."

"What? Why?"

By now we were standing in front of my Jeep, the black words screaming at me. Chase's gaze dropped to the hood. "Oh,"

I put some of the paint remover on the hood and started rubbing it in circles with a paper towel. The spray paint came off, but so did the finish. "I'll have to go in and get the entire finish stripped and get a new one put on," I was so mad, words couldn't describe it.

"I'll pay,"

"Don't tell me, you and your dad made a deal that he would pay for you to get a car refinished?"

Chase smiled. "My uncle has offered to put on flames on my car.  I told him that when the time comes that I want to repaint the car, then I'd call him. He lives in Palm Springs, so we won't have to travel too far."

I leaned on the hood. "People, simply put, are ass-holes."

"Welcome to life." Chase put his arm around me. "People react this way when someone doesn't think the same way as themselves, they're too close minded to react any differently."

"I'll drink to that," I raised my arm in the air, acting like I had a glass in my hand.

Chase clicked his fake glass to mine. "Nicely put."

I smiled. "And that is why I love you."

. . .

Dear Stella Doe,

I miss you and this won't be easy. I'm leaving California and traveling to Las Vegas to "spread the word" about all of this Unscripted stuff farther across the country.

I haven't told Chase my idea yet and I don't plan to until I get the trip to Vegas planned out. I wish I could stay in California with you just two towns away... but I can't.

I realized—after someone spray painted the hood of my Jeep today—that I can't stay in the same place forever. So, I have to leave. I'm packing all my stuff—except for a bag—and putting it all in my old house. The Jeep is staying there too; no doors don't do well on highways...

I love you Stella, I really do. I hope that you can convince people back home that Unscripted is just a word and that we don't have to live by the Marks.

Sincerely,

Scarlett Rennal/Riley Moore

Always Scarlett to you though...

I put down the pen and read over my letter once more before sealing it in an envelope and stamping it. I wrote Stella's address on the top and put the letter in my purse. I went into the bedroom and started packing a bag to last four days.

I got on my laptop and sent out an e-mail to everyone who went to the protest, telling them my plan and to keep protesting.

Closing my eyes, I sent the e-mail and cleaned the living room, trying to keep my mind off of my plan that could end terribly.

Chase would be home soon with our take out and I wanted to have the apartment cleaner than usual. Tonight I would tell him my risky plan to go to Vegas, organize a protest, and go on the road again, most likely moving on to Salt Lake City—just to set up another protest and then move again.

Sure. What could go wrong?

I sat on the couch, waiting nervously for Chase to come home. He left about an hour ago to run some errands and said that he'd pick up something for dinner. Now that the living room is cleaned, I have nothing left to do but wait.

I honestly thought that when I moved in with a boy, I'd have more to do than this. Constantly waiting for Chase to get home is stretching out my nerves.

Around fifteen minutes of pointless time wasted later, Chase came home with burgers. I stood up and wiped the sweat off my palms on my jeans and hugged him.

"I didn't mean to take that long, were you just sitting here... waiting for me?"

I shrugged. "Kind of. I have something that I need to talk to you about and I didn't want to do it over the phone..."

"Is everything okay?" Chase looked worried as he sat down our to-go bag on the kitchen counter.

"Chase... we have to leave. If we actually want to convince people that these Marks shouldn't matter, then we can't just stay in California. I was thinking that we'd travel one state at a time, a protest in each location. I know it'll cost a lot, but I think it's worth the money."

Chase rubbed the back of his neck, a thousand things going through his mind I'm sure; and through all of it, he's trying to find an answer for me. I don't blame him for not saying anything at first.

"Chase...?" I was worried about anything and everything that was running though his mind. "What are you thinking?"

"Uh... I really love the idea... but... We're not made of money, Scar. We can't just up and move out and live in hotels until we're famous nationwide just to get the word out about getting rid of these Marks. Scar, I really love you and your ideas, I don't know how we can do this one."

Disappointment crashed down on me like a pile of bricks. "I understand, it was a long shot." I thought about my letter to Stella sitting in my purse.

"I never said that we couldn't do it, though," Chase smiled, his white teeth shinning between his lips. "I just think that maybe we should wait until we have a good amount of money saved up."

I nodded. "Yeah, no, I totally understand, save money, then leave. Makes tons of sense." I couldn't hold back my smile. "But... how long do you think it'll take for us to save up enough money? I don't want to stay in Palm Springs much longer."

"I understand. After what happened yesterday, I really don't blame you. But, Scar, we need a lot of money just for gas. Not including hotels and food. Scar, I support you one hundred and one percent, but there's no way that we can just pack up in any less than a month with just your job busing tables."

I nodded. "I completely understand. We will need money, no doubt... But, what type of job can we get on an unfinished high school education?"

Chase nodded, slowly, in agreement. "It won't be easy,"

I stepped closer to Chase, nudging myself under his arms. Chase wrapped his arms around me, indulging me in his comforting warmth. "We can do this," He whispered. "We'll find a way."

I nodded. "I know. I have faith."

Chase ran his fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head. "I love you Scarlett Rennal slash Riley Moore."

"I love you Christopher Chase Sprier."