Cole’s words run through my head, and I have to swallow hard again.
Where do I want to go? And why didn’t I think about what to do after I ran away? I was so busy finally getting away that thewhere tonever even crossed my mind.
A sob escapes me when I realize how careless I was. How could I eventhinkthat it would be a good idea to march out into this world without spending one thought about where to go and what to do? That was not only inconsiderate, it was reckless. I want to slap myself for getting in that black pickup.
I lacked nothing. I had a roof over my head, food on the table, and a mother who cared for me. And what do I have now? A few dollars and no idea where I want to go.
I regret running away. I regret seeing something in that truck just because it showed up four days in a row, thinking it was some sort of sign, believing that possibility would lead me to a new, exciting life. Because right now, I just feel incredibly alone and lost. Not even the gentle voice in my head that says I wanted friends, adventures, and love can push back the desperation rising in my chest.
When the first tears run down my cheek, I wipe them away with the sleeve of my sweater and sniff loudly. Crying won’t help me now. I have to decide what to do next. To do that, however, I need to figure out what I want, but I don’t know anything right now. Instead, I’m completely lost in this world that seemed so exciting in the books.
Once more, I wipe my face and blink away the last tears.
An older man sits inside the ticket booth. He’s wearing a dark-blue cap and looks bored, but I take a step toward him anyway. I’ll just go to him and ask where those buses are going. Then I’ll decide where I want to go.
When I’m halfway across the parking lot, a small group of young men approaches me. They’re laughing while holding something wrapped in brown paper in their hands.
My heartbeat quickens as I think of my mother’s words, but I force myself to push them away. Not all men are evil; that’s just not possible. Cole wasn’t, after all. He wasn’t particularly nice, either, but he didn’t do anything to me. Why should it be any different with these four men?
As our paths cross, they stop in front of me instead of stepping aside, so I can’t go any farther.
"Well, who do we have here?" one of them asks, looking at me with a kind smile. "You’re not from around here, are you?"
I return his smile gingerly. "No, not really."
He laughs and nudges one of his friends with his elbow, who’s joining his laughter before bringing the paper-wrapped something to his mouth. It looks like he’s drinking from it, and I involuntarily ask myself why someone would wrap a beverage in paper.
"Do you have any plans for tonight?"
I shake my head. "What are you drinking?"
He looks down at his hand before he returns my gaze and laughs again. "This? It’s… lemonade. Want some?"
"Why would you wrap lemonade in paper?" I ask bewilderedly, not responding to his words.
"Well, because it’s magic lemonade," he replies with a grin, holding it out to me. "It makes you happy."
"No, thank you."
He shrugs and takes a big gulp himself.
"Where are you headed?" one of his friends wants to know.
"I don’t know," I confess and throw a glance toward the ticket booth. "Where exactly do the buses go?"
The four look at each other in surprise, before the one who talked first answers with a smile. "Anywhere. But the next one won’t depart for a few hours. Do you want to come with us? We’re headed to Joe’s. You can keep us company."
"What’s Joe’s?"
His smile widens. "A diner."
I frown.
"You know…a diner. Those places where you eat burgers and pancakes and stuff. You’ve never been to one?"
I shake my head while my cheeks grow hot with redness.
"Well, then it’s time you catch up!"
