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I want to see him again this afternoon. Tonight. I want to talk to Asher’s mom about working with homeless youth. I’ve checked the site of the National Runaway Switchboard online and I can start as a volunteer, then later take courses and work there. I want this. And I want to put Blake and the accident behind me.
“I want to move out of my parents’ house,” I blurt out.
“Whoa. Moving in with Micah already? Isn’t it too soon?”
“No, not with Micah.” Although the thought sends a thrill through me… But he hasn’t asked, and it’s way, way too early to even think about something like that. “I just need to move out.”
“I see. Looking to share an apartment? ’Cuz I may have something.”
“You do?”
“One of my friends is looking for someone to share her apartment with. She’s great. You’ll love her. She lives close by.”
I smile. It’s a good sign, isn’t it, if luck is smiling my way. “Let me talk to my parents, and I’ll let you know.”
***
My parents stare at me in disbelief when I break them the news.
“You want to move out? For heaven’s sake, why?” my dad roars.
Oh, crap, it’s going worse than I thought it would, and Joel is nowhere to be seen. I could use the support right now.
“I need my space,” I say quietly. “I have—”
“Why, so you can sleep around? Or to spend time with all the losers on the street and spend every penny until you become one of them?”
“John,” Mom says. Even she sounds horrified at his words.
Not more than me, though. My stomach hurts as if he’s punched me there. “Is that how you think of me?”
“Come on, Evie.” He rolls his eyes and gives me a withering look. “If you don’t want people to think of you that way, then act responsible. Like the adult you pretend to be.”
Ow.
“Listen to your dad, Evie,” Mom chimes in. “He wants what’s best for you, and you’re not doing anything meaningful with your life.”
“Oh, for chrissakes. I finished school. I got a job. I almost never go out. What are these ‘adult things’ you expect from me?” My voice cracks and all I want is to run out of the room and hide. There’s a lot of hurt inside me. No matter what I do, it will never be enough for my parents. “What else do you want?”
“I want you to stay home where it’s safe for you,” Dad says, and tendons stand out in his throat. “To think seriously about what you want to do with your life and start doing it.”
“I have thought seriously about what I want to do.” I’m leaning forward in my chair, every muscle taut. My jaw aches from the tension. “I want to work with homeless youth. There’s someone I’m going to talk to—”
“Are you out of your mind?” Dad snaps, just as Mom mutters, “This isn’t going to end well.”
“This is what I want! There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There’s lots wrong with that. Lots!” Dad gets up and looms over me. “This isn’t what your mom and I worked our asses off for, so you could have a nice house, and nice clothes, and a chance to go to college. You’re throwing away all our efforts, all these years lost—”
“I’m not throwing anything away.” I inch back in my seat, but anger pushes down my fear. “I just want to do what makes me happy. I’m not going to feel guilty about that.”
“You listen to me now, young lady…” Dad bends over me and jabs a finger at my chest. I flinch and fear returns. He’s a big man, and I’m tiny, like Mom. I’ve never been afraid of him before, but he’s so angry spit flies out of his mouth, and my blood runs cold.
Dad won’t hit me, I tell myself. He never has. But when he grabs my arm, gripping me painfully tight, I can’t help but think that Blake also never hit me, and yet he’s held me like this, bruising me, forcing me to stay when all I want is to leave.
“John, stop it,” Mom says, and I think I hear fear in her voice, as well.
“Dad, let her go right now,” a male voice says.
