I dart my eyes from my ride to the girl, then back again.
My empty stomach screams at me.
The doors open, and a light sweat breaks out on my forehead.
“You comin’ or stayin’?”
“H-how many more runs are there tonight?” I squeak, even though I’ve memorized the schedule.
“Last one for four hours, honey. Make up your mind.”
I sniff and look behind me. The girl has stopped beside a building, already rifling through my things. She looks like she needs it. Maybe more than I do.
I know myself well enough by now to understand that food can wait. My heart, on the other hand, can’t take another minute.
Decision made, I pluck up the plastic store bag from the bench and step onto the bus. I pay and find an empty row in the back.
With trembling hands, I open the bag and peer inside. An ache spreads from my empty stomach to my dry throat. At least I have my toothbrush, bodywash, and new shirt. I let out a snort.Right, because that’s all it will take to get a girl like me clean.Rolling my eyes, I sit back against the seat and count the stops.
I’m on alert every second, every bump, every turn.
Eventually, I hop off on Greer and catch my next route, counting the stops again until twelve have passed. And finally ... I’m here. My legs wobble, taking me four blocks before I turn right and sneak behind the familiar house.
My eyes sting as the first wave of music touches my ears.
I did it.
I made it another night.
The guitar’s gentle strums carry me past the pool’s nightlights. Making my way to the shed, I sink onto the fresh grass. And I listen. I don’t want to cry. But each stroke of music feels like Mom, and I can’t stop the wetness slipping down my cheeks. I’m as close to home as I’ll ever be.
Scooting back to lean against the shed, my palm lands on something cold and smooth. I look down. And I don’t believe what I see.
My mouth salivates.
My stomachpangsin anticipation.
A sandwich, a ziplock bag of Doritos, and a small glass of orange juice.
Without thinking, I lunge and stuff my face. I catch myself when I’m halfway finished with the PB and J and slow down. I’ve learned my lesson about keeping food down. It’s not until I’m gulping the orange juice that a movement from the second story window catches my eye. The music has stopped.
Freezing with the glass against my lips, I look up.
A face hidden in the shadows. It’s all I see before the curtain closes, but it’s enough.
He watches me.
The boy who plays sad music.
Eva
(Present Day)
“Igotta say,” Elijah murmurs, “I was surprised you texted me. You know, with you and Carter hookin’ up again and all.”
I stare at him.
“But who can blame you? I knew one time with me wasn’t gonna be enough. I’ve been thinking about you too. A lot.”
