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“Gabriel!” The boy’s name comes out in a sharp whisper, and Gabriel drops into his seat again. A haggard man leans into the aisle and turns to me with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, he’s a little bored. It’s been a long ride, and someone fed him way too much sugar.” He rolls his eyes at the word someone, obviously implicating himself.
“Don’t worry about it.” I swallow another laugh. “He’s not bothering me.”
“See? I told you she was nice.” Gabriel pops his head above the seat again, holding on to the back with both hands. “If you didn’t run away, how come you’re all by yourself?”
“Because no one wanted to come with me.” The fib burns on the way out, and I point to his fake glasses. “Are you supposed to be Harry Potter?”
Gabriel groans and rolls his eyes in a perfect imitation of his father. “I’m Superman!” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “In disguise.”
“Oh.” A sharp twinge in my chest brings tears to my eyes. “I used to like Clark Kent a lot.”
His dark head cocks to one side, and a small furrow forms between his little eyebrows. “You don’t like him anymore?”
I swallow my conflicting emotions and shrug. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Come on, Gabe.” The man tugs the boy from his perch, leaving me alone with my feelings. “Let’s get some sleep before the sun comes up.”
After a two-hour layover in Memphis, I finally board the bus for Hicksville—tired, hungry, and reeking of sweaty feet and stale chips. The air-conditioning went out during the first fifteen minutes, and even at quarter to ten in the morning, the outside temperature must be hovering somewhere between deep in the heart of Texas and the bowels of hell. To make matters worse, the bus is as packed as a box of broken crayons, and other than a quick sponge bath in the laundromat, I haven’t washed since Boston. Only the stench seeping out of the nearby toilet can outrank my foul odor.
I’ve spent the better part of an hour fighting sleep and avoiding the creepy guy across the aisle. His camo board shorts and bow-tie-with-suspenders novelty T-shirt make him look like he escaped from one of Jeanie’s serial killer lineups.
Just when I’m about to lose the battle and drift off, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I’d basically given up on reaching G-Lo or Jeanie. They’d been either intentionally avoiding me or hungover. Maybe both. So when a picture of G-Lo, leaning against the Betty, smiles up at me from the display, I accept the call and press the phone to my ear. “Where have you been?”
“Who?” The surprise in G-Lo’s voice almost makes me laugh.
“You!” I whisper shout. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
G-Lo cackles down the line. “You didn’t really expect me to answer the phone before nine, did you?”
“Did it ever occur to you I might’ve needed help?”
G-Lo clicks her tongue. “Not until you mentioned it. But you don’t sound like you’re calling from jail. Wait! You’re not calling from jail, are you?”
“No!” My shriek draws unwanted attention from the creep across the aisle, so I turn toward the window and lower my voice. “But that’s not the point. Do you think your car is ready for me to pick it up?”
“Why would you need my car? You already have a ride.”
I press my fingers into my temple. “Had. Past tense.”
“What happened?” G-Lo snickers. “What did you hit this time?”
“A whole family of vultures.”
The line goes so quiet, I think I must have lost the call.
G-Lo clears her throat. “I guess that means you’ve met Dash’s parents.”
“You could say—wait. What do you know about them?”
“Oh no. Ask Dash. It isn’t my story to tell.”
“I can’t exactly do that right now.” I huff.
Part of me wants to tell her everything, but to do that, I’d have to relive it. I’m not ready to admit how stupid I was for putting my trust in him. How much I’d started to care about him. How I’d slept with him.
“Why? Did something happen? Is he okay?”
“He’s perfectly fine.” I grind out the words, irrationally angry at her misplaced concern.
