Hitchhiking

Part 1

Callie:
4:30 AM, my set alarm on my phone blares Ariana Grande's song, "everytime". My eyes shoot open at the new sound and I roll over to hit snooze. I know damn well I need to get up but I still find myself wanting more sleep. My parents will kill me if they find out I slept in, even just for barely ten minutes. Despite all of that, I allow myself those extra nine minutes, and at 4:39 AM, my alarm blares with a different song from my playlist. This time, I force myself to get up.

The first thing I do when I swing my legs over the side of my bed is check my texts. I'm not a popular kid so I'm not expecting anything more than a message or something from my best friend—and quite frankly only real friend—Juniper Cherry. June's been my friend since day one. Literally. We met in pre-school. According to June's mom, we got along because we shared an interest in the dirt. June's mom—Monica—told me about how she came to pick June up from daycare and found me and her daughter playing in the dirt, digging for worms. Apparently, June and I clicked from the start and hung out every day at daycare. And now, I'm turning eighteen in a month—in March. June's turning eighteen in July, four months after me. It's always crazy to me how fast time goes by.

I have a little less than two hours before June picks me up on her way to school. I don't have a car. My parents refuse to buy me one or even financially assist me in buying it. Most teens my age at least have a family car they can use. But not me. My dad doesn't even let my mom, his own wife, drive his precious Mustang. Anytime he references to his "sweet wheels", he calls it by its name: 1967 Ford Mustang Fastback. I think that's overkill but if I dare say anything about it, he gets defensive.

I send a reply to June's "Good morning" text, place my phone back on the bedside table, and stretch out my whole body. As always, it feels so good. June always teases me about waking up so early in the morning, even though she wakes up around the same time, and each time, I tell her my good reasons for waking up with the sun or a little before it. I'm not an athlete or anything but you don't need to be a star athlete to have a workout plan. Every morning, sometimes even on weekends, I wake up around the same time, 4:30 in the morning, and start working out. Sometimes I'll run, but most of the time I just stick to the basics—sit-ups, pushups, a plank, etcetera, etcetera.

I work my body until I'm sweaty and tired. By the time I'm done, it's nearly 5:20. Only a little over an hour until June gets here. I grab my clothes for the day from my drawers and head for the bathroom. My parents never minded me being an early bird. They pretty much encourage it. Says it's good for the mind and body to be on an early routine. So when I take my shower, they sleep through it and let me do my thing. The lukewarm water is nice. Although I prefer hot showers, my parents always scold me for using up all the hot water, so I've learned how to tolerate the colder temperatures.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrap myself in a towel and check my phone. 5:42. I made good time. I find a text from June.

Junie: we gotta pick up Quinn on the way

Quinn O'Brien. June's other best friend. Quinn and I have never gotten along that well. I mean, I'm always nice to her. I try to be nice to everyone, with a few exceptions. I have my "enemies", but don't we all? I don't answer June's text. I dry my body as quickly as I can and throw on my classic school outfit of black sweatpants and a loose tank top. I bring a hoodie with me in the event that the school decides on a whim that my outfit is "too revealing". I don't think they will because literally, no one pays that much attention to me. The school has better things to do than dress-code me this close to finals week.

By the time my backpack is packed with all the school stuff that was sprawled on my desk in my room, I only have twenty minutes until 6:30, when June should get here. School doesn't technically start until 7:30 but June and I always grab coffee and breakfast from the local Dunkin' Donuts. With my final twenty minutes, I head downstairs to the kitchen. There, I find my dad reading the newspaper and sipping his homemade coffee.