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‘Hunter.’
Of course he didn’t come here. He knew I would talk him out of leaving or suggest something crazy like going with him. And in my current state, that’s a very real possibility. Running away would be so much easier than facing my mother’s shame each morning. I think he knew that. I think he wants me to do it the hard way, because in his eyes, that’s the proper way.
Snatching the car keys off the bench, I glance at the clock on the stove—7:54 p.m. I run for the front door.
‘Where are you going now?’ Mum calls behind me.
‘Town.’ My hands are shaking as I slide into the car and try to get the key into the ignition. It takes me multiple attempts, and then I forget which way to turn it. My eyes are welling with tears as I slip the car into reverse and speed off down the driveway.
As I pull out onto the road, I panic, because I’m fairly sure the car clock is a few minutes slow. Or is it fast? I accelerate harder.
The bus stop is outside Robinson’s Furniture Shop, so I take the shortest route possible to the small car park behind it. I come to a jolting stop and yank the keys from the ignition before shouldering the door open. I’m really regretting my gumboot decision now because they’re so difficult to run in.
As I’m rounding the side of the shop, I hear the bus idling out front. I have no idea if it just arrived or if it’s preparing to leave, but at least I haven’t missed it. I pass the corner just as the door hisses closed.
No, no, no.
I slow, searching for Hunter as I pass the windows. Maybe he’s not even on there. Maybe Sammy gave him a ride to the Turram train station. Perhaps he hitchhiked.
My feet falter when I catch sight of a figure seated next to the window with the hood of their jumper pulled up. His form is so familiar to me now that I’m certain it’s him. My suspicions are confirmed when he drags his hood back and slips on a pair of headphones.
The bus starts to pull away.
‘Hunter!’ I wave my arms just as he tugs the hood of his jumper up again. I run towards the door. ‘Wait! Stop the bus!’
But the driver is looking the other way. He’s focused on what’s coming in his other mirror.
‘Stop the bus!’ It speeds up before I reach the door, and I slap the side of it in frustration. ‘Stop!’
The bus keeps going.
Hunter flashes into view once more, head resting on the seat and eyes closed. He doesn’t see me.
How do you leave your home without a single glance back?
I’m running alongside the bus. ‘Hunter!’
I’m here. Look at me. Look at me.
Don’t leave.
Don’t leave me.
