Catcher in the Rye meets The Silver Linings Playbook in this coming of age tale.
Life is complicated for nineteen-year-old Miles Henderson. He was supposed to go to community college, graduate, and leave his crime polluted community for good.
But...
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After we had a word with our cranky boss Mr. Pendleton, Johanna and I left the office building to complete our jobs.
Clutching her car keys, Johanna leads me to a parking lot where her mint green 1972 Chevrolet Vega stood in front of us.
Her titian hair danced in the breeze; her nervous blue eyes scoped around for any trespassers.
Ever since Johanna was a kid, she had this intense fear of going outside.
So occasionally, whenever I don't have any plans, I would accompany Johanna to restaurants, stores, and movie theaters in case she needs someone to talk to.
"Mr. Pendelton is such an asshole," I say to her as we entered her car.
Johanna did a sigh as she shoves the key and swerves it into the gas ignition.
"Don't worry about it so much, Miles," she says softly.
I gaze at Johanna in total shock.
"Don't worry about it?" I thought angrily.
"Does she know that Pendleton treats her like garbage every day?"
"Jesus, Miles." Johanna signaled her turn and proceeded left. "Will you please stop looking at me that way?"
The harsh tone in her voice forced me to look straight at the slightly empty parking lot.
Later, Johanna apologizes for her attitude.
She explains to me that she couldn't sleep at all because her neighbors were causing a loud disturbance in their apartment.
"Wait," I frowned. "Were the neighbors yelling or making sex noises?"
Johanna snorts a laugh. "Sex noises?"
"You know, it's the sound two people make when—"
She cuts me off wearing a vicious expression.
"I know what sex means, Miles," she declares bitterly. "I just think that I need to move into a bigger apartment."
Johanna puts the car in reverse and drove out of the parking lot.
Malicious gusts of wind blew from the air conditioner, causing the small locket to dance around her driver's windshield.
Tucked inside the silver frame were photos of Johanna's two white kittens, Otis and Little Marshmellow.
Smirking, I set Mom's large, leather brown satchel on my lap. It was a gift Dad gave me after I had graduated from high school.
Normally, I hate putting my photos in the satchel because of its broken zippers, but the only reason I kept the damn thing around because it had Mom's lavender scented perfume.
