Melinda Metz - Roswell High 06 by The Stowaway

Author:The Stowaway
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-06-01T18:30:55+00:00

Chapter 6

Cameron did a quick study of the people scattered around the tiny bus station. Yeah, there were a few good faces. She should have no problem scoring a ticket.

She headed up to the window, scanned the departure times and the rates, and picked a town that was twelve bucks away. Twelve bucks was an amount that a kind stranger would be willing to give to a girl in need.

“One for Hobbs,” she told the ticket guy. She reached into her pocket and allowed a slight frown to cross her face. Nothing major. She checked the other pocket. She felt her stomach cramp, as if she’d actually expected to find something there and was sort of sickened when she didn’t.

I should be one of those method actors, she thought. The ones who totally live the parts they play.

“Something wrong?” the ticket guy asked.

“My wallet’s gone,” she answered, the tiniest quaver infecting her voice. “I know I had it at breakfast.” She checked her pockets again. “Is the three-fifteen the only bus to Hobbs?”

“Only one today,” he answered.

“I really have to get home today. If I called my dad, could he use his credit card to pay for the ticket?” Cameron asked. “I could call collect.”

“That would be fine,” the guy answered. Not a trace of suspicion on his face.

Damn, I’m good, she thought as he slid the phone toward her. She punched in the numbers for a collect call, then the numbers for a pay phone in front of a deserted gas station she’d stumbled across three towns ago. She’d been using it as hers ever since. If she happened to get picked up by the cops, she liked being able to give them a number where she was sure it would ring and very sure no one would answer.

Cameron held the receiver tight to her ear. She knew that made her look really tense. She gave the ticket guy an apologetic smile. “Just let me let it ring a few more times,” she whispered. He nodded, giving her a sympathetic smile back.

Milk it just a little longer, she coached herself. She counted five more rings, then reluctantly hung up. “I guess he’s not home. He works out of the house, so he should be there, but—”

Cameron shot a glance at the clock, then she leaned toward the ticket guy. “Um, is the bus station open all night?” she asked, keeping her voice soft, but not so soft the audience behind her in the waiting area couldn’t hear.

“Only until six,” he answered.

“Oh. Okay.” Cameron felt her pockets one more time, then turned and headed to the door. She’d figured out that’s how it worked best. No begging. No sob stories. She let the little fishes come to her.

“Excuse me, miss?” a voice called just as Cameron’s fingers snagged the door handle. She turned around, a who-me expression on her face.

A middle-aged woman gestured her over. “Why don’t you let me loan you money for the ticket?”

“Are you sure?” Cameron asked, widening her brown eyes as if she just could not believe this was happening.

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