Page 118 of Bad Boy Blues


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There’s silence.

I’ll take it. I’ll take the wide-eyed silence.

In my head, I always thought that if I told them I’m here for my mother, for the woman who kicked me out and never cared about me enough to even bother with my whereabouts these past years, people would look at me with pity. Especially the staff members who knew how it was for me while growing up.

I thought, to them, I would look weak. It makes me weak.

But for the two days that I was locked up, I’ve been thinking about how Blue loved me. How she told me that she was mine, even after I repeated my mistakes from St. Patrick’s and didn’t save her from Ashley’s childish games. How proud she was while she was on her knees, mopping up the mess.

She’s the strongest person I know and she forgave me my crimes a long time ago. She gave me her trust, her body, her love.

So maybe forgiving your bully doesn’t make you weak.

Maybe it makes you brave. It gets you a little closer to being invincible.

Nora springs up from her chair and asks, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going after her.”

She’s still confused but I don’t have time to explain. I turn to Maggie. “Where did she go?”

Maggie gives me a stern look from where she’s sitting at the middle of the table. “Leave her alone. She’s been through enough.”

“Just tell me where she went.”

“Why? So you can hurt her some more? She’s been crying for three days now. I thought she’d pop her eyes out.”

I rub a spot on my chest.

You felt a spark, probably in your chest.

“Tell me so I can make it better.”

Maggie studies me with pursed lips. In fact, the whole room is studying me.

“Maggie,” I growl.

“Fine. She said she was going north. She wants to go someplace snowy. That’s all I know.”

North.

“Okay, thanks.” Then, I look at Nora. “Thanks for all that you’ve done for me.” To Maggie, “You too.”

After that, I’m running.

I don’t stop until I reach my bike, and take off after her.

Someone’s following me.

Or at least, it feels like it.

I’m losing my mind, I think. Maybe I want someone to follow me. Someone like him. It’s insane.

I’m crazy.

First of all, how would he even know where I am? I never told him where I was going. That wasn’t part of the plan. He’s back at his mansion, probably sleeping or washing off jail before going to be with his mom.

And second of all, I don’t want him to follow me. I want him to leave me alone, and die in peace, or at least, wish about my death in peace.

As it is, I’ve lost it, my peace, as soon as I lost the town limits in my rearview mirror.

I’ve been driving slowly and sketchily.

The highways are wide and the vehicles are wider. They’re hurtling along like they’re all out to get me and each other.

The first few hours, I take every rest stop exit and throw up all my organs.

Then I get hungry. Ravenous. So I stop at a food exit and load up on basically everything. Fries and burgers and slices of pizza and hot dogs. I have soda. I have water. I have juice. I have wafers and Funyuns and candies.

God, so many candies.

I have more food than I have luggage.

I sit in the parking lot and stuff my face with gummy bears while I watch people through my window. They all look happy, like they’re on the best road trip ever. I guess they don’t know what it feels like when you drive away from everything you’ve ever known.

The only person who can relate to that is the one I’m kind of running away from. And the funniest thing is, he won’t even care. He won’t even come after me.

Again, not that I want him to.

Or rather, this late in the day when I’m tired and exhausted, I can admit that I want him to, but I can’t want that.

And that just makes me cry.

So I sit in that parking lot for about an hour, gorging on candies and sobbing my heart out, slumped over the wheel.

When I’m all out of tears, I realize that there’s a prickling on the back of my neck.

So much prickling, it’s almost an itch.

It sends me out of my car and I look around. There’s miles and miles of road and infinite sky, and all the faces I don’t recognize.

Sighing, I get back in, start the car and roll out of there.

I drive for the rest of the day, stopping here and there. When the sun’s setting though, I’m done. I can’t take it anymore. I find a motel on my GPS and pull in.

At reception, I get a room for the night and haul my luggage up the stairs. Without any obligation to save up for my house, I have enough money to get me through a few months. I’ll need to find something after that, but I’m not worried about that right now.

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