Chapter 2
For the first hour, everything was normal. My siblings fought over a juice box. My dad yelled at the GPS. My mom put in earbuds and said she had a headache. I watched dry hills pass by and tried not to smile too much.
Then we stopped at a gas station on the edge of nowhere, dusty pumps, sun-baked pavement, a bathroom key attached to a wooden block the size of a brick. "Everyone out," my dad said. "Stretch your legs." I slid out carefully so I wouldn't bump my brother's foot. My older sister took the last blue Gatorade from the cooler and told me to deal with it. I did.
I stood near the front of the car, waiting for everyone else to get back in. No one did. The engine started. I frowned. "Are you just moving to another pump?" My mom rolled her window down halfway. "You're staying here." For a second I thought I'd misheard. "What?" "We don't have time for another attitude problem," my dad said from behind the wheel. "I didn't do anything." My mother's face hardened. "Just take the bus home, Mia." Then the car pulled away.
At first I laughed, not because it was funny, but because my brain needed one more second before it let the truth in. They were teaching me a lesson. They'd circle back. My dad would shout. My mom would say, see what happens when you act difficult. My siblings would laugh and call me dramatic. Five minutes passed. Then ten. The car did not return.
May you like
I walked into the gas station store because standing outside felt too much like being on display. The cashier looked up from his phone, long hair in a ponytail, a name tag that said JAKE in black marker. "You Mia?" I froze. "Yeah." "Your mom called." He reached under the counter and pulled out a plastic-wrapped turkey sandwich and a warm Sprite. "Said you know which bus to take." I stared at the food. "They're not coming back?" Jake's face shifted, not pity, something worse, confirmation. "Didn't sound like it."
I took the sandwich because I didn't know what else to do. Outside, the sun hit the pavement so hard it shimmered. There was a bus stop sign bolted beside a covered bench with graffiti carved into the plastic. Two routes. One went home, I recognized the stop name near our street. The other went a few cities over. Not far. But not home.
