It All Started When...

Road Trip With A Lunatic

   I don't know how I ended up here. I seriously don't.

   One second, I'm having a normal high school day. The next, I'm trapped in my car with a boy who I don't even know, also the same boy who just fell out of the sky ten minutes ago.

So! We're just cruising along the highway, me still in shock and this guy bleeding all over my car.

What a fun road trip!

   "Dude, you're going to ruin my seats." I told him conversationally. "I'll have to get seat covers."

   I glared at him, "I hate seat covers!"

   "Pull in here." Was his response.

   I scoffed, but did as he requested. My little sedan bumped into the parking lot of a run-down Fuel-O'-Max. Weeds grew between the cracks in the pavement, and it looked like the only thing they sold was Rockefeller-oil. (For those of you who don't know history, this joke just flew over your head.)

   "Wait here. Keep the engine running." He ducked out of the car and limped inside. The little bell went ding!

   The audacity! I thought. I am not his servant, and I certainly did not volunteer to be his chaperone!

   I huffed indignantly, but still I waited.

   Why?

   I honestly can't tell you.

   Well, actually, I can probably take an educated guess. You see, if I hadn't taken this crazy guy for a car ride, I would be stuck at my foster-parent's house.

   Now, "foster" fits them just fine, but "parents" is a bit of a stretch. I am 99.999% sure they are just using me for the money. They get a check at the end of each month to accommodate my food, clothing, and hygiene costs. How much of that I actually see, I don't know. But, I think the foster foundation would at least send enough money so that I wasn't eating 50 cent boxes of mac-and-cheese every night. And, who knows, maybe enough money to have my own clothes! You know, instead of Margaret's 20 year old jean shorts that were stretched beyond their boundaries. (But hey, at least I've got a good belt!)

   "Ugh." I shuddered to think of what Margaret was plotting. If I ever did anything unexpected, there was always hell to pay. One time, when I'd first gotten my drivers license, I went down to the Library. Just on a whim, you know? Everybody loves books, and I was running low on them, so I left without telling her, thinking I'd be back in a jiffy.

   She was not having that at all. She took the car and locked the keys inside her safe. After making sure I was thoroughly chewed out, she locked me in my room for the rest of the night. I remember being so hungry and thirsty, but oh no, I had disobeyed her. I deserved this.

   A scowl worked its way onto my face as I thought. The clock on the dash clicked over . 3:40.

   And then, as if my punishment wasn't enough, she told me I couldn't have the car back until I was 17. I had to walk to school and work for the rest of the year. But, hey, at least I stayed fit and healthy! I had the calves of a profesional body builder.

   I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. There was a faint pounding at the base of my skull, a headache. The clock clicked over again.

   Ding!

   Sky-boy came limping out of the shop, sporting a new neon-green Fuel-O'-Max t-shirt. His side bulged with bandages. He swung the car door open and collapsed into the seat.

   "I love your color choice."

   "Drive."

   I pulled out of the space and into the road. My poor little car whined in protest as we hit a whopping 50 miles per hour.