Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
“Thanks.” I crack open the can and drink. The bitter bubbles bite my tongue, but I force myself to swallow.
My uncle leans against the kitchenette’s messy countertop. “You got any more money for me?”
I pinch the beer can between my knees and unzip my backpack. He rubs his hands together as I pull out the folded wad of cash.
“Somebody’s been working hard.” He takes the wad from me and thumbs through the bills. “This is really gonna help move things along, Teagan.”
It hurts to watch him pocket such a large portion of the cash I worked so hard to save, but cars cost money to maintain. I can either pay him now or pay him later when we get stranded on the highway in New Mexico.
“I was hoping I could stay a while,” I say. “Just until it’s time for us to go.”
He pushes his glasses further up his nose. “They kick you out of the group home?”
“No, I left.”
“They just let you walk out?”
“Well, yeah. Today’s my birthday.”
He waits for me to explain further. I pretend it doesn’t sting a little that he fails to acknowledge my birthday. Craig is never going to be the kind of uncle who pats me on the back and says, "I’m proud of you.” That’s fine. At least he doesn't talk down to me, which is more than I can say about the other adults in my life.
“I’m eighteen,” I explain. “That means I can age out of the system if I want to.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Because we’re leaving.”
“Well, yeah, sure. But not right this second.” He waves his hand around at the messy suite. “I’m not exactly set up for guests here. Where the hell would you even sleep?”
“I’ll take the couch.”
Craig rubs the top of his bald head. I catch myself holding my breath. He folds his arms across his barrel-shaped chest, and it finally hits me just how delusional I’ve been. If life has taught me anything, it’s that anytime you get your hopes up, you’re asking for a fall. My own dad ran out on me. Why should I expect more from an uncle I haven’t seen since I was six?
“You can’t stay here, Teagan,” he says. “I’m sorry but it’s not gonna work out.”
I force my shoulders to shrug, the truth chafing my skin like sandpaper. I’ve been so desperate to move away that I didn’t stop to think about all the smaller steps in between. I figured it would all work itself out. But then, when have things ever just worked themselves out?
Instead of telling Craig the truth, that I have nowhere else to go, I tell him, “It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”
“Of course you will.” He gives my shoulder a soft punch. “You know why? ‘Cause you’re scrappy, just like your old man.”
I plaster on a fake smile. From the time I was little, people have looked at me like I’m a problem to be solved. For all his faults, Craig looks at me like I’m a solution. The solution to what, I have no clue, but whatever it is, I’ll go along with it if it means there’s a chance I can get the hell out of this shithole.
“When do you think you’ll be ready to leave?” I ask.
He scrubs at his salt-and-pepper beard. “Two weeks? Maybe three? A month tops.”
Dread starts to bubble up inside me, but I play it cool. I say goodbye to my uncle and park myself on a bench in the small, sunburnt courtyard outside the hotel.
I used to run away a lot—before I learned that it can be just as bad, if not worse, on the outside as it is in the homes.
Having lived in the group facility for so long, I don’t know where any of the safe sleeping spots are in this part of town. I just gave Craig most of my money, so I can’t afford to rent a hotel room. I was never particularly friendly with my co-workers or classmates, and I’ve never been kissed, so I can’t crawl into bed with an ex-boyfriend.
At sundown, I find a fast-food restaurant that’s open twenty-four-seven and order a small soda and fries—enough to rent a booth with a window for a few hours. I sit and draw until my eyes refuse to stay open. But as soon as my head drops into my arms, a manager comes over and tells me to find somewhere else to crash. I gather my things and attempt to use the restroom before I go, but the manager chases me out.
Pissing behind a tree is a lot harder than I remember.
I head down the street to an apartment complex I scoped out earlier—my real reason for squatting in this part of town. Starting at the darkest corner of the parking lot, I begin testing car doors. I have to hang back twice after triggering alarms before I find an unlocked Toyota Camry with an empty backseat.