wore a nametag.
“Yep?”
“Is there somewhere I can charge my phone?”
She showed me to a corner that housed an open outlet. I thanked her eagerly, but she seemed to think it no big deal, almost confused as to why I was so thankful. Watching her walk back to her checkout lane, the only person I had spoken to since I came to Greensboro, I wished she hadn’t already graduated.
My bags dropped to the floor beside the outlet and I left them there, pulled my charger from my purse, plugged it in, attached it to the phone, and plopped my butt down alongside my bags. An aisle of bright colors and plastic packaging made up my scenery as I leaned my head back against the wall. What am I doing here?
The phone vibrated.
“Dad” blinked in bright white letters on the screen. The letters blinked and the phone vibrated a few times over, and I watched the screen until they didn’t anymore. What was I supposed to tell him? It’s not as if I wanted to hear his voice, either. The break from Dad, even though it had only been a day by then, was already refreshing me. Here people, normal people who didn’t know a thing about me or my dead mother or my depressed father, walked by and smiled at me as if to say, “Welcome to freedom.” Soon I would go back to Dr. Gomez’ house, and I would tell her that we were family, and she would call my dad with me, and I’d never have to live with Zombie Dad again. But until then, I’d be charging my phone in Walgreens and sleeping on a blanket in an abandoned shack.
Eventually my phone’s battery icon was completely green, so I unplugged the phone and loaded the GPS.
“Thanks again,” I called to Candice on the way out, and she smiled that innocent, refreshing smile that had no idea my life wasn’t under control.
After a decent-length walk, I was in the shack again. All day long I had managed to stay calm, but night approached. With Dr. Gomez having no idea of my existence still, the wood box would be “home” until I could think up a plan of action. School started the next day. All the shopping I would do was done, and the light falling in through the window would run out soon. With nothing but time to get nervous, I pulled out the papers I printed from the Rock Bridge High website. My schedule seemed all right, and the school map easy enough to follow. Feeling confident I could find my way to my classes, I packed the papers into my book bag and tossed the clothes in my suitcase around until I picked out an outfit. Something cute, but not overdoing it. I added the new supplies from Walgreens to my book bag, too, and re-zipped it before I set it in the corner. Lessening light in the bedroom cautioned that night was starting to settle in.
I lay on the thin blankets atop the flat wood floor, thinking if only I was a little stronger, smarter, I might just be in a guest bedroom in whichever one of those huge houses Dr. Gomez lived in. If not there, at least in some boarding school somewhere, or a runaway home, with air conditioning, maybe.
I wasn’t in any of those places, though, and I was scared. But things were okay for the moment. Wherever I was, I was glad not to be stuck in the black-hole home with Dad back in Georgia. Back where every inhale, every look around the room, shot pain through my spine.
Chapter 3
Through the windows of the bedroom I could see … nothing. It was still dark out.
My sticky, hot mouth yawned as I grabbed my phone to scan the room with its light. The room was grosser than I remembered. After some fumbling through a couple of Walgreens bags, I gripped the flashlight and turned it on, and fished out a hairbrush from my luggage before the flashlight lit the way to the bathroom.
Between the missing pieces and smeary spots in the mirror, I found my hair lying atop my head in an uncomfortable bundle, different pieces swaying in all directions. Before I even thought to do it, my hands gripped the brush and started to tame the beast that was my
“Yep?”
“Is there somewhere I can charge my phone?”
She showed me to a corner that housed an open outlet. I thanked her eagerly, but she seemed to think it no big deal, almost confused as to why I was so thankful. Watching her walk back to her checkout lane, the only person I had spoken to since I came to Greensboro, I wished she hadn’t already graduated.
My bags dropped to the floor beside the outlet and I left them there, pulled my charger from my purse, plugged it in, attached it to the phone, and plopped my butt down alongside my bags. An aisle of bright colors and plastic packaging made up my scenery as I leaned my head back against the wall. What am I doing here?
The phone vibrated.
“Dad” blinked in bright white letters on the screen. The letters blinked and the phone vibrated a few times over, and I watched the screen until they didn’t anymore. What was I supposed to tell him? It’s not as if I wanted to hear his voice, either. The break from Dad, even though it had only been a day by then, was already refreshing me. Here people, normal people who didn’t know a thing about me or my dead mother or my depressed father, walked by and smiled at me as if to say, “Welcome to freedom.” Soon I would go back to Dr. Gomez’ house, and I would tell her that we were family, and she would call my dad with me, and I’d never have to live with Zombie Dad again. But until then, I’d be charging my phone in Walgreens and sleeping on a blanket in an abandoned shack.
Eventually my phone’s battery icon was completely green, so I unplugged the phone and loaded the GPS.
“Thanks again,” I called to Candice on the way out, and she smiled that innocent, refreshing smile that had no idea my life wasn’t under control.
After a decent-length walk, I was in the shack again. All day long I had managed to stay calm, but night approached. With Dr. Gomez having no idea of my existence still, the wood box would be “home” until I could think up a plan of action. School started the next day. All the shopping I would do was done, and the light falling in through the window would run out soon. With nothing but time to get nervous, I pulled out the papers I printed from the Rock Bridge High website. My schedule seemed all right, and the school map easy enough to follow. Feeling confident I could find my way to my classes, I packed the papers into my book bag and tossed the clothes in my suitcase around until I picked out an outfit. Something cute, but not overdoing it. I added the new supplies from Walgreens to my book bag, too, and re-zipped it before I set it in the corner. Lessening light in the bedroom cautioned that night was starting to settle in.
I lay on the thin blankets atop the flat wood floor, thinking if only I was a little stronger, smarter, I might just be in a guest bedroom in whichever one of those huge houses Dr. Gomez lived in. If not there, at least in some boarding school somewhere, or a runaway home, with air conditioning, maybe.
I wasn’t in any of those places, though, and I was scared. But things were okay for the moment. Wherever I was, I was glad not to be stuck in the black-hole home with Dad back in Georgia. Back where every inhale, every look around the room, shot pain through my spine.
Chapter 3
Through the windows of the bedroom I could see … nothing. It was still dark out.
My sticky, hot mouth yawned as I grabbed my phone to scan the room with its light. The room was grosser than I remembered. After some fumbling through a couple of Walgreens bags, I gripped the flashlight and turned it on, and fished out a hairbrush from my luggage before the flashlight lit the way to the bathroom.
Between the missing pieces and smeary spots in the mirror, I found my hair lying atop my head in an uncomfortable bundle, different pieces swaying in all directions. Before I even thought to do it, my hands gripped the brush and started to tame the beast that was my
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