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“No wonder Maggie kicked you out! You’re an excellent student.”
She cuts me off with a shake of her head. “I can’t go back. It would be too humiliating.”
I take a deep breath. “You need to tell me what happened.”
She matches my serious look with one of her own. “Promise me I can come with you.”
“Tell me.”
She stands up, her red eyes staring straight into mine. “Promise.”
“I don’t even know you,” I say in a moment of desperation. The words hit her like a slap in the face and I immediately regret it. Of course I know Miranda; six-year-old me was there the day she was born, clinging to Grandpa’s hand and as he showed me her crib in the nursery. I just don’t know her. Maggie and I never hang out outside of work and to me, Miranda is just another weird teenager who I could never connect with. Kids hate me, teens included.
She turns toward the balcony for a moment, and when she looks back, her eyes fill with tears. “I’m pregnant, okay? Please take me with you.”
Chapter 6
How could I say no to that? An hour later, all seven boxes plus one backpack are in the U-Haul and Miranda and I are cruising down Interstate 45, going north. I’ve never driven with a trailer before, and it’s proving to be a challenging task. Gusts of wind swoosh against the trailer and it tugs my car this way and that way, making me keep a death grip on the steering wheel. Miranda’s cell phone is charging via my car’s USB port and she’s playing Angry Birds. We haven’t spoken at all, but at least she seems content.
This is beyond weird. I have so many questions to ask, but can’t seem to ask any of them. The girl in my passenger seat is going through more emotionally than I ever have, and I can’t even talk to her. We share the same blood—Grandpa’s blood—and I can’t even make myself talk to her, comfort her, anything. Relation or not, we’re strangers.
My stomach growls in an embarrassingly loud protest two hours later. “Are you hungry?” I ask.
“God, yes,” she says, clutching her hand over her stomach. She reaches for her backpack and unzips it. “My wallet is in here somewhere.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, practicing a new type of smile that I hope will make her feel better. “I’ll pay. Grandpa really took care of us, didn’t he?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, zipping her backpack closed and shoving it under her feet.
I want to say duh, but I stop myself. “His inheritance.”
She cocks her eyebrow at me, completely unaware of what I’m talking about. I change lanes to let an impatient motorcycle driver behind me in the fast lane. “I never knew he had so much money saved up. I always thought the old man was broke, ya know?”
“I didn’t get any inheritance,” she says with a shrug. “Well he left me his glass figures that I’ve always liked, and some other things. But not money if that’s what you mean.”
I almost swerve off the road in shock. “Grandpa left you ten thousand dollars. It was in his will.”
Her eyes light up. “You’re shitting me. There’s no way.”
An angry feeling wells up inside me. “Maggie didn’t tell you? You didn’t get a cashier’s check after he died?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Mom gave me the stuff Great Grandpa left me, but she didn’t say anything about money.”
“Why would she keep money from you?”
Miranda kicks her backpack. “I don’t know, but money would help a lot with my situation right now.”
I touch her arm in what I hope to be a comforting gesture, but it makes the awkwardness grow thicker inside my SUV. Without a word or another forced empathetic look of pity, I put my hand back on the steering wheel.
The road ahead of us is dark and empty. “I guess we’ll keep driving until we find an exit with some food,” I say just as my stomach grumbles. The clock on my dashboard says it’s just after midnight. I’m not even tired.
“Turn here,” Miranda says, pointing at an exit sign that leads to a dark county road with no brightly lit McDonald’s signs.
“Why?” I squint at the upcoming exit. “Where are we?”
“Fuck if I know,” she says. “I’m sick of being on the interstate.”
She doesn’t understand that the interstate is safe. It always leads somewhere no matter what, and home is right behind us, about three hours away should we decide this was a terrible mistake. Which it totally is. But in the spirit of throwing all caution to the wind and going wherever life takes me, I let my foot off the gas and take the exit.
