Stealing The Show (Such Sweet Sorrow Trilogy, Book One)

Part Three: Miles To Go - 11

COACH CHILTON IS going over the importance of voter turnout in Government class around the moment I zone completely out. He's saying something about voter apathy and how political parties use other issues to motivate voters or whatever.  

But I don't care. I'm afraid that I've ruined my chances with Jubilee and that she might not ever want to talk to me again. She probably thinks I'm a friend-stalker. She probably hates me. 

The girl I'm in love with hates me. So. 

It's completely clear now. There's no reason anymore for me not to go spread Paps' ashes. It's the perfect time to go. Now. Run. Get some space. Do what Paps asked me to do, and be alone for a while, and figure out what to do about the Jubilee Problem. If there is anything to do at all. 

I'm so zoned out of Government that I look down and realize I've carried Paps' ashes inside the school with me. So, I pick up the box and take out my keys. Slowly and as quiet as I can, I saw through the industrial tape holding the box closed. Inside, his ashes are in a thick plastic bag that is sealed shut. It's grayed out so you can't really see the ashes at all.  

Under my desk, without looking at the keys, I send Shoe a text that says I'M GOING TONIGHT. 

PLAY'S 2NITE, he writes back. 

I wait a few seconds, then write SORRY. 

I'm not really there for the rest of the day, either. I'm gone far away in my mind already. 

It turns out it's spectacularly easy to head out with Paps once I think about it. I email Mom and tell her that Dad's been down this week, which is true, and it'd be better if I stayed with him for another week, which is a lie. She sends me one back that says You're sweet. OK by me. Love you. She's probably glad because it'll give her more time to work longer hours. And I simply don't tell Dad anything, because he thinks I'm going over to Mom's after school.  

They won't let a kid rent a hotel room, so I plan on buying a sleeping bag and a tent at Wal-Mart or something. No problem. 

Food is easy. Gas is no problem with the card for the bank account. I've got the ashes. I just need some clothes and a toothbrush. If I didn't need those, I could leave right now, just get a hall pass for the bathroom and drive away to California. 

It's creepy how easy it is, really. Why don't we do it all the time? What's wrong with us that we don't realize how easy it could be to start over? There's a theory in that. I'll have plenty of time to think about it on the road. Maybe I'll see what it's like and start over myself somewhere, forget about Jubilee and find someone new. 

So when the bell rings for the day, I run out to the parking lot. I'm running to my car and running away from all this and running so that I don't see Jubilee and crush my soul with embarrassment. But when I get to Eeyore, it's looking as sorry-for-itself as ever. Both tires on the driver's side are flat.  

I'm there, amped and itching to leave, and I just can't. I feel like I'm going to pick up Eeyore and throw the whole damn car across the parking lot, Hulk-style. 

Shoe comes running across the lot, dodging cars. "LEWWW!" he hollers. "Dude, I'm so glad I caught you before you left, I... What the fuck?" he says when he sees the tires. 

"I don't know. 'What the fuck' is right." 

"Let me call my mechanic buddy, hang on," he says. While it's ringing, Shoe says, "I remember he said you needed new tires." 

Shoe talks on the phone and I see her. Jubilee. She comes around the corner of the bandroom and heads for the auditorium door, for some last-minute stuff with the play, I'm sure. Dramatical comes running up to her and they hug. Dramatical is so excited for opening night, she starts skipping towards the door, and Jubilee kind of hurries up with her. But at the last second before she goes in, she turns, just a glance, a sliver of a look right over at me, right in my eyes, and then she disappears.