I'll Meet You There by Heather Demetrios

Author:Heather Demetrios
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781627792929
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

chapter eighteen

It was Florence Nightingale syndrome—it had to be. That’s the only explanation for why I was suddenly obsessed with Josh Mitchell. Like in A Farewell to Arms, I was a nurse falling for her patient. Obviously I wasn’t Josh’s nurse or whatever (insert crude Dylan joke about “playing doctor”), but ever since graduation, I felt like I’d been trying to take care of him. Like inviting him to Leo’s or going after him the night of the Fourth. But I was supposed to be with a slightly geeky, yet totally adorable San Franciscan who loved art and wanted to use words like chiaroscuro and proletariat and existentialism. Josh was the past, and all I’d ever cared about was the future. And, anyway, that didn’t matter because he was probably going back to his base at the end of the summer, and I was going to school.

Right?

If that night by the train tracks taught me anything, it was that no matter how much you tried to get out of Creek View, it was gonna find a way to get its claws into you. What I’d said—that being by those train tracks with Josh was the only place in the whole world that I wanted to be—was the push I needed. I was getting out of Creek View in less than two months, and nothing was going to stop me.

A few days after the Fourth, I put my newest escape plan into action. As soon as my shift ended at the Paradise, I changed into the skirt and silk tank top I’d worn for graduation, then double-checked the documents in the manila folder I’d left on the front seat of my car. Inside was an application for food stamps that had my mother’s signature on the bottom (forged), two copies of our recent pay stubs, a copy of our utility bills, and my transcripts. I didn’t need the transcripts, but I thought the 4.0 might help me if I ran into trouble at social services.

I pulled onto the highway, my blouse already sticking to my back with sweat. I leaned forward and let the breeze blow over me. Someday, I was going to have a car with air-conditioning. Maybe, I thought, I should make that my life’s goal. It seemed manageable.

The sun beat down on me, burning my left arm as I traveled north on the highway. It wasn’t busy, just the usual flow of traffic—mostly big rigs and dusty pickups, with a smattering of commuters and travelers. I passed road-tripping families in minivans with bumper stickers like MY KID IS AN HONOR STUDENT AT (FILL IN THE BLANK) or SKI MAMMOTH. I envied the kids in front of me with their feet propped up on the backs of their parents’ seats, watching DVDs. I couldn’t even imagine a life like that. To me, they were the ones in a movie.

For a while I got stuck behind a big rig, and I eased out from behind it, speeding by as quickly as I could.

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