Elle Jones

Chapter 18: The Homeless Girl

On the next morning, I had woken up to find that the car is moving on its own. Like a glob of butter ready to churn, the vehicle's black wheels ventured forward, not minding the pieces of rock scattering across the road.

Adjusting my eyes, I simply glanced at my reflection to find my hair looking like a raccoon's nest, disgusting pimples growing on my forehead, and Austin's soft blue quilt cradling me.

In the meantime, New York is raining; dribbles of colorless rain fell from onto the flustered vehicles to New York's concrete floor.

Although I can see the drizzling raindrops, I can hear nothing but the sounds of angry pattering assaulting Kristy's SUV. Streaks of glass-like liquid slithered onto the windows but were perturbed by windshield wipers.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Back and forth, the slick, black windshield wipers swept away from any trace of liquid, dirt, or insect blocking the driver's gaze.

And speaking of the driver, I turn my lazy head to see a scrawny, pale boy on my left, driving Kristy's SUV.

Dark brown curls swept away from his tired eyes, as Austin's firm hands gripped the steering wheel.

For his clothes, Austin wore an olive green t-shirt, long khaki pants, gray socks, and black Addidas. And as for his disguise, he had on a backward Yankees baseball cap, and a pair of thin-rimmed, dark-tinted sunglasses, covering his eyes.

"Ugh, " I groaned, shielding my face.

"Rise and shine, Shakespeare." Austin beamed.

I stretched my arms then yawned.

"Hi, " I said, flashing him a tired smile. "How do you still have the energy to drive at-I peered at the alarm clock-six thirty in the morning?"

Austin shrugged his shoulders. "I think it's the coffee."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "You had coffee while I was napping?"

He nodded.

"Why?" I ask. "Aren't you tired?"

Austin shakes his head no, then continued staring at the road. "While you were sleeping, I bought us some breakfast and filled up the gas tank."

Sitting inside the right cup holder is a wrapped MacDonald's Egg McMuffin sandwich and a brown paper cup filled with finely brewed coffee.

"Oh," I say, yawning again. "Have you already eaten?"

Austin bobbed his head. "Yeah, the Mocha latte and Egg McMuffin are yours to eat."

Stretching my arms again, I picked up the brown paper cup of coffee, opened the cap, blew the steamy black liquid, and take a long satisfying sip.

Like a dry sponge, my pink tongue absorbed the scolding hot taste.

The beverage was sugary, almost as if I am drinking a bottle of darkened Coke, but when the liquid sloshed around my mouth, I tasted the milk; it wasn't as rich or creamy as the coffee itself, but it was tolerable for a sweet-tooth junkie.

"Ugh," I grunted again, setting down my coffee. "Where the fuck are we?"

"Well, we just left MacDonald's," explained Austin. "Right now, we are heading to John F. Kennedy's International Airport."

Wiping away my tired eyes, I take another sip of coffee.

Although its touch nearly singed my tongue, I didn't mind the sweetened cream and sugar one bit. In fact, the coffee tasted a lot better compared to the watery coffee shit at home.