Shooting Lights by Mary Victoria Johnson

Author:Mary Victoria Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ABDO
Published: 2018-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

It occurred to me that introverts were perhaps among the most discriminated against groups in the world. Starting in primary school, kids were praised for being leaders and always having their hand up in class, for having lots of friends and being able to speak well in front of others. People who preached confidence were considered inspirational, and the kids that were able to follow through were considered role models. Growing up, most jobs required an outgoing personality, and those who weren’t like that were regarded as dull or meek. It never occurred to those who thrived in the spotlight that perhaps we introverted people had dreams and desires just as vivid as theirs, that perhaps we were also equally valuable, but in different ways; they’d been taught from the start that their way was the only right way. That our way was a flaw that needed fixing.

That was the problem between me and Jeanne. She genuinely felt she was doing me a favor by forcing me to do all these things; she didn’t realize that I simply didn’t want to change. I admired Jeanne, but at the end of the day, I wanted to be myself rather than her. And heck, even she wanted to change.

For blocks, I fought the little voice inside my head egging me to go back. I was more than a bit disappointed that I wouldn’t make it to Stonehenge, but a point was a point and it had to be proven.

And really, the reasonable part of me said, do you want to spend the next few days awkwardly crammed together with Chris?

Nope. No, I did not.

I found a bus station outside the perimeter of a housing estate, a sprawling landscape of hundreds upon hundreds of identical homes in varying states of neglect. The sky here was nowhere near as dark as it had been in Suffolk, polluted by enough light that I couldn’t even see the stars.

An old man came to sit beside me, confirming that this bus would take me as far east as I needed to go. However, it was running late.

When the bus did arrive, it was just as unremarkable as the rest of the surrounding area. I dragged myself to my feet, shuffled after the old man, and took in all the empty seats; there were only three other passengers.

“Excuse me.”

“Huh?”

The bus driver was an obese woman with stains of ketchup (at least, I hoped it was ketchup) all over her chest. “I’m not your mother. You have to pay.”

I reached into my skirt pocket and felt my stomach drop. I had nothing but a Murray Mint wrapper. My purse and all my money was in my purse back at the flat. I’d used my spare change to get into the club, and there was nothing left.

So, as though the day couldn’t get any more mortifying, I was forced to step off the bus and watch it disappear around the corner.

Well . . . shoot.

It had been at least a twenty-minute drive from the flat, and I had little to no idea what direction to head in.

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