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“Actually, no,” I say softly, as the door to the bus shuts. “I trust no one.”
* * *
I stand on a street corner in Boston, staring at the early morning sky over the buildings. I wonder if anyone here ever reallysleeps.According to that brightly lit clock over the subway station, it’s only six thirty in the morning.
“Girl, here’s my number.”
Quinn and I became fast friends on the trip up here. There’s something about spending hours upon hours with a veritable stranger who lives life like she’s an open book that makes rapid and sudden friendship.
“Thank you.” I stare at the number as if trying to make sense of it. I know what a phone is, of course. My family went into fellowship when I was only nine, but I have vivid memories of the outside world before then.
However, I’ve never actuallyowneda cell phone, and I most definitely have never been in the position of holding a friend’s phone number in the palm of my hand. I feel honored.
I think I want to hug her.
“And where are you going?” I ask, trying to sound curious and not bereft.
“Oh, here and there,” she says with a wink. “Going to crash on a friend’s couch tonight and then, sky’s the limit. You take care of yourself, okay? People take advantage of sweet girls like you.”
I laugh. “Well, I don’t have a lot of money, so that’s easy enough to avoid.” I won’t tell her I don’t haveanymoney, because that might make her feel responsible for me.
Her face falls and she winces a bit. When she speaks, she looks pained. “You have a lot that people can take that doesn’t involve money.”
“Right, then. A chastity belt should be first on my list of new items to buy?” I ask teasingly, which earns me a giggle and a wink.
“She’s funny. My little Amish friend has a sense of humor.”
I tried to tell her I wasn’t Amish, but it didn’t work. When she found out I actually know how to churn butter, there was no turning back.
I watch her walk away, whistling a little tune, until she’s swallowed up in the crowds of people walking awfully briskly for this early in the morning.
A part of me wishes she didn’t leave.
A part of me is glad she did.
I want to prove to myself that I don’tneedpeople to make me feel safe and secure. I want to prove that I can handle myself and make a way for myself, and earn so much money that when I go back to get Starla, we can do anything we want. I can hire a lawyer or—whatever it is I need to hire so I can bring my sister to freedom, too.
But not today. No, today I need sleep and food, in that order.
Quinn talked so much on the bus, and I had so many different things to think about, I barely slept a wink. When I closed my eyes, my mind whirred like an overheated engine. I’d been so nervous about leaving the night before, I barely slept then either. My eyes feel as heavy as trash can lids and strangely gritty, like someone’s run sandpaper over them. I trip as I walk in a random direction. I have no idea where I’m going. I shake myself a little so I wake up.
I’m used to being without food. Withholding food was one of my parents’ favorite punishments when I was a child. You can control a lot by managing someone’s appetite. I learned to lean into hunger and not fear it, a skill that’s come in very handy.
I have a problem, though. Where does one sleep when one has no money?
It’s chilly up here in early April, much colder than it was back at home.
And I don’t know much about the way people do things.
I do know that some people sleep in hotels, but they cost money and I have none.
Maybe I could barter?
Some people go to shelters, but even if I could find one, taking refuge in a shelter scares me, because I fear that if Seth ever comes looking for me, that’s one of the first places he’d go.
I stare at the slip of paper in the palm of my hand that I haven’t put away yet.
I could call Quinn and ask for help, but I don’t want to. It matters to me that I find my own way.
