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“I feel like there is when you and Dad keep telling me to forget about that time of my life. It’s like the first five years of my life were a mistake, like the person I was and the people I came from were so bad and wrong that you need to erase it from my memory.”
“That’s not what we meant. Your father and I just want you to look forward, not back. Those years were a painful time for you, and we don’t want you holding on to that pain.”
“Then let me see Nova. She’s the one person who makes me feel good about that time of my life. And she’s not like what Dad described. She’s not trying to get money from me. She didn’t even want to be friends with me. I had to convince her.”
“And you’ve only been seeing her a few weeks? Or did you lie about that?”
“I didn’t lie. I saw her at the diner on Halloween night, then went back the next day to see if it was really her. Mom, please let me go see her. She wouldn’t have shown up here if it wasn’t an emergency.”
She hesitates, then says, “Let me talk to your father later.”
“He’s just going to say no.”
She picks up the bowl of potatoes. “Go tell everyone dinner is ready.”
Who cares about dinner? I need to go see Nova. I need to find her and be there for her. It kills me knowing she’s struggling with something and I can’t help her. I told her she could count on me. I need to prove to her she can.
2
Nova
I’ve been sittingin this parking lot for hours. It’s next to the sculpture garden where I went with Easton. So far, nobody’s bothered me, but I keep thinking a security guard’s going to show up and tell me to leave.
When I got here, I walked around a little to look at the sculptures, but my shoes were getting wet in the snow and the wind was really cold so I had to get back in the car. I’m still freezing in the car, but at least my coat is warm.
I shouldn’t call it my coat when it’s not. The way that girl reacted when she saw me wearing it tells me she wasn’t planning to throw it out. It’s just another one of Easton’s lies.
Why did he do it? Why was he wasting his time with me? He’s hot, rich, and the star of his hockey team. He could have any girl he wants, without even trying, so why was he trying so hard with me?
Sitting in this car for hours has given me time to relive the past few weeks and I still can’t figure out why Easton would work that hard to deceive me. It’s not like he has a lot of free time, so why spend what little time he does have taking me out? Pretending to be my boyfriend? It doesn’t make sense.
It’s getting dark and the parking lot lights will probably go off soon. I guess I could try to sleep, but I’m not tired, and I’m shivering too much to sleep. The wind picked up and it’s whipping around the car, seeping through the cracks in the doors. It’s a brown 1970 Cadillac and the doors are rusted so they don’t close right. The whole car is rusted. I’m sure there are a million other things wrong with it. Ted was too cheap to keep up on the maintenance.
Opening the glove compartment, I search for money or food but find nothing. I’ve searched it at least ten times so I don’t know why I bothered to look again.
I’m so hungry. The only thing I’ve eaten all day is two donuts, and that was this morning. Everyone else has spent the day stuffing themselves with turkey and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. And I’m stuck in this freezing cold car with nothing to eat.
Maybe I should go to a shelter. I could spend the night there and get some food. But what if they found out I’m a minor and turned me in? I look at my face in the rearview mirror. I could pass for 18, or even 19. They don’t ask for ID. They couldn’t prove I’m a minor.
Getting my phone out, I look up the nearest shelter. The one in my neighborhood pops up first. I know where it is, but I don’t want to go there. Some kids from my school have stayed there and said you’re lucky if you make it out of there alive. There was so much crime happening there, the city almost shut it down.
There’s another one a few miles from the diner. I’ll go there, or maybe I should just stay in the car. I’m not sure which option is worse.
The lights in the parking lot dim, then shut off, the only light now coming from the sculpture garden. Do I stay or go? I’ll let the car make the decision. It rarely starts on the first try. If it does, I go. If not, I’m staying here.
I turn the key and the engine starts. I was kind of hoping it wouldn’t. I’m worried about going to the shelter. Easton used to live in homeless shelters, but I doubt he remembers much about them. And I’m not talking to him, so it’s not like I could ask.
Driving out of the parking lot, I notice I only have a half tank of gas, which isn’t going to last long. This car only gets about ten miles per gallon.
It starts snowing on the way to the shelter. The windshield wipers are old and warped, smearing the snow across the windshield, making it nearly impossible to see. But luckily, with the holiday, there aren’t many people on the roads.
When I get to the shelter, I run into the building, shivering from the cold wind. A man is standing just inside the door.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
“Yeah. I, um, need a place to stay for the night.”
“Sorry, but we’re all filled up. You could try one of the other shelters, but I’m guessing they’ll be full too. When the temperature drops this low, the shelters get filled to capacity.”
