BF 2nd edition

by Isabel Curtis

  The parking lot was empty, yet the stranger looked around as if wondering who had spoken.

  "Nowhere in particular," she replied, once she finally noticed Hayden. "And you?" she asked.

  "Nowhere in particular," Hayden replied. It would have sounded like a mocking answer to anyone, even though it wasn't, yet the young woman simply said,

  "Great! Then let's go."

  "I'm out of gas."

  "I've got money. But I'll have your coffee in exchange."

  "But it's my breakfast."

  "You wanna grow old in this parking lot?"

  "Not really."

  "Then I guess you've got no margin for negotiation."

  "Fine. Get inside." Hayden pointed at her car, gesturing her new passenger to get in. Once inside, she handed her the coffee. "Here, enjoy."

  "Wow, thanks!" She was really happy.

  "You've never had coffee?" "

  Not free coffee."

  "Right." She started the engine, and they headed for the gas station.

  "Hey, wait a second. How old are you?" the stranger asked as she noticed some empty bottles of alcohol on the backseat. Her brother probably forgot to throw them away.

  "If you're a cop, I'm twenty-one."

  "Do I look like a cop to you?"

  "You could be undercover."

  "You watch too much TV. Here's some money, get gas so we can get going."

  "Are you in a hurry to nowhere?"

  "I'm in a hurry to lunch, and that will be in God knows how many miles. So we should hurry up."

  Hayden got out of the car, thinking that this girl was complete bonkers.

  "I'm Hayden, by the way," she said, as she got back inside.

  "Nice name," she said, sipping her coffee and looking out the window.

  "Are you gonna tell me yours?" Hayden suggested. "That's how it works, you know?"

  "Works what?" "I introduce myself and you do the same."

  "Is that mandatory?"

  "It's common sense, I think."

  "Is giving a ride to a complete stranger common sense? Besides, what difference does it make what my name is? I could even make a name up right now and you'd buy it. Or I could tell you my real name and you'd not believe it. Knowing my name wouldn't mean you'd be safer or that I'm a good person or that we're friends."

  I should leave her here.

  "I didn't ask for your autobiography, just a freaking name."

  "Fine. Call me Sunrise."

  "Sunrise? Come on, you can do better than that."

  "I told you wouldn't believe my real name. Now can we go?"

  "Your real name is Sunrise?"

  "Maybe."

  "Whatever. Where shall we go?"

  "Follow that car!" she said, pointing at a car that was passing by in that moment. She started laughing, and Hayden looked at her in bewilderment. "I just really love sayin' that. You know, like they do in the movies."

  "They usually do that in taxis."

  "God, where have you buried your imagination, kid?" Hayden didn't reply, and started the car, going nowhere.

  "Where will this highway take us?" she asked.

  "Wherever you want it to take you," Sunrise replied, smiling. Hayden turned on the radio, and just pressed on the gas pedal. "So what are you running away from?" Sunrise asked after a while.

  "What makes you think I'm running away from something?"

  "Everyone is running away from something. It's just that some hit the road, and some don't. So what's your story?"

  "It's complicated."

  "It's always complicated. Otherwise we wouldn't be running away from it, duh?"

  "It's a long story."

  "We've got time," but Hayden had no intention of interacting with her, so she kept quiet. Eyes on the road. "Okay. Are your running away from an abusive father or an alcoholic mother?" Sunrise asked.

  "My parents are dead."

  "Oh I see! You're running away from your dead parents, that was my third guess," she said, almost smirking.

  "You find this amusing? And I am not running away from my dead parents. It's not like they've turned into brain-eating zombies or anything."

  "That was funny. Can I laugh?"

  "No."

  "Fine. If you're not running away from anything, then why don't you go home?"

  "I can't... I'm trying to protect my brothers, I think." She was not entirely sure that running away was really going to keep them safe.

  "Wait...Are you playing the hero or the victim here? I'm getting confused."

  "Neither."

  "Don't do that."

  "Uh?"

  "Don't play the hero. Seriously, heroes get hurt while saving the world, they end up being the victim sometimes, and no one ever bothers saving the hero. So just don't."

  That was an interesting point, Hayden thought, but there was no way she was going to fuel her madness and her speaking.

  "Right."

  Sunrise spent the next fifty miles talking about absolutely nothing, yet she spoke and spoke.

  "Don't you ever go on vibrate mode? I need quiet."

  "Quiet? For driving?"

  "To not go crazy."

  "What's wrong with crazy? I mean, think about it –"

  There she goes again.

  "What's your story?" If she had to listen to her, it might as well be something interesting.

  "I just really love taking road trips, with no particular destination in mind. It makes you feel so free, don't you agree?"

  Hayden felt anything but free, actually. The sense of being completely lost, nowhere to go to, and nowhere to go back to. Was there a worse feeling in the world?

  "I'm not sure," she whispered.

  "Who does a pharaoh talk to when he's sad?" Sunrise asked after a second.

  "What?" Hayden asked, confused.

  "I asked: who does a pharaoh talk to when he's sad?"

  "Uhm.... I don't know."

  "His mummy!" and she burst out laughing on her own.

  "Was that supposed to be a funny joke?"

  "Yes. And I was testing your ability to laugh, but apparently there's something totally wrong with you, girl."

  "I just have lots of problems."

  "Well shoot, kid, so do I, and so does everyone in this fucking planet, but that don't mean worries block our ability to laugh! Unless you've got some sort of extremely rare disease that has permanently paralyzed your mouth preventing it from stretching.... in that case I'd like to know. Is it infectious?"

  "Are you done?"

  "Yep."

  "I don't have a disease."

  "That's good to know," she said, taking out a pack of cigarettes.

  "Oh hey, can I have one?" Hayden asked. She was longing for a smoke.

  "Of course not!" she said, lighting a cigarette up. "Smoking is bad for you. You shouldn't smoke."

  "What? You can smoke but I can't?"

  "You're young, I've already messed up my lungs."

  "Wow, you're being protective. How nice of you."

  "Yeah, I know." She was serious.

  "Besides, how old are you?" "Twenty-three."

  "Oh wow, you're really old. Now I understand why you don't give a fuck about your health."

  "Is age all that determines how old you really are?"

  Never mind.

  "How did you get to that service station?" A philosophical talk was not in Hayden's plans.

  "Another free ride."

  "The driver dumped you there 'cause you were talking too much?" Hayden asked, almost smiling.

  "Whoa, was that a smile I almost saw? Kid, be careful, I could die of shock if you do that again." "Okay, sorry," she said, pretending to be serious again. "I just really like talking, you know?"

  You don't say?

  "Oh so you always talk this much?"

  I was hoping it was just the coffee.

  "Just when there are people around."<
br />
  "Thanks for pointing that out," Hayden said, ironically.

  "Well you know, there are so many people out there who talk to themselves. They are considered crazy. I don't want you to get that idea about me."

  "Right."

  "Do you think they are crazy?"

  "Who?" It was really hard to keep up with her train of thought.

  "Those who talk to themselves."

  "Uhm, yes?"

  "I don't get it," she said, extremely serious while looking out the window.

  "I mean, I once saw a kid, she must have been around four or five years old and she was with her parents in a park and she was talking alone, like I don't know with an imaginary friend or something – "she stopped to breathe. "And all the passers-by just kept saying 'Oh wow how cute' and blah blah blah and then on the other side of the park I saw this old man who was probably a homeless guy and he was talking to himself too but people just kept a distance from him and they said things like 'He's crazy' and blah blah blah – " She stopped for more air, "and I just can't stop wondering: when do we go from being cute to being crazy?." She finished her monologue and stared at Hayden, waiting for an answer.

  "Uhm, do you expect an answer from me?" "That would be nice of you."

  "I have no clue."

  "Okay." She sat back and kept staring out the window, lost in that park with the homeless guy.

  "Let's play a game," Sunrise said.

  "Let's not."

  "Come on, it's fun! Pick a number between one and five." Hayden looked at her with a puzzled expression, then decided to play along.

  "Okay, I have it."

  "Great, now multiply it by nine. Add the two digits of the new number together. Now subtract – ."

  "Whoa, slow down, do I look like I'm smart?"

  "Okay, sorry."

  "What do I do after multiplying?"

  "Add the two digits of the new number together."

  "Done."

  "Now subtract five. Is your final number four?" Sunrise asked, excited.

  "If I say yes, will the game be over?"

  "Yes."

  "Then yes."

  "I knew it! Now it's your turn." Sunrise said, happy that her game was going the way she planned.. apparently.

  "What?"

  "Do a math game." Hayden sighed.

  "Take your age and add five to it," she said.

  "Done," Sunrise replied, cheerfully.

  "That is your age in five years. Now can we stop playing? I hate math."

  "Do you always have to be so harsh on people?" she said, looking out the window. "I bet you don't even have any friends."

  "Having friends is a lot of work and I can't deal with that in my life, so yeah I don't have any friends. Happy?"

  "Everyone should have friends. At least one good friend. A friend can save you."

  "Save you from what?"

  "From life."

  "Reading can save you too. And writing. And music. Oh and breathing, I've heard that can help too, sometimes," Hayden said, then asked, "Do you have friends?"

  "I used to," and she went quiet, but not for long.

  "Do you like boys or girls?" Sunrise asked out of nowhere.

  WTF?

  "Have you ever tried to stay silent for over three minutes?" Hayden asked, annoyed.

  "Wow, that's a long time. You don't have to answer me, if you feel I'm invading your privacy."

  "I don't like boys and I don't like girls. I like bagels, and Netflix. And dogs."

  "I feel you." They looked at each other for a second, then they started laughing.

  TWENTY

  After a few hours of driving, and obviously talking, they stopped to get a coke and some junk food – to Sunrise's joy. As they walked out of a small local store, a police car with the sirens on passed right in front of them, and Hayden instinctively put the hood of her sweater on, and turned around, trying to hide from the police. There was no way they were there for her, she was too far away from home, but she didn't like to take chances. Sunrise looked at that scene.

  "You're hiding from the cops?" She didn't seem worried, as a normal person would be.

  "What? Who? Me? No! Let's just get out of here." Hayden was nervous, and Sunrise was not an easy person to fool.

  "You're hiding from the cops!" This time, it wasn't a question. "Cool," she said, getting into the passenger seat.

  "Cool?"

  "Yeah! Tell me everything."

  Boy, was she weird.

  "I, well – " She started the engine. "I shot a guy."

  "Wow. Did you kill him?" she said, while eating a sandwich.

  "I'm not sure."

  "Okay. So what's your plan?"

  "I don't have one."

  "What? Everyone on the run must have a plan! It's how you stay on the run."

  "Well you know, it's not like I planned to shoot someone and steal my brother's car and become a fugitive. I didn't exactly have time to think about my next move."

  "This is so exciting! I mean, do you think they'll have a 'wanted dead or alive' poster with your picture all over the country? That would be cool. I'll be able to say I knew a celebrity."

  "Has anyone ever told you're weird?"

  "Pretty much everyone I meet tells me that. Even the voices in my head."

  "You hear voices?" Hayden asked, worried.

  "Dude, I'm kidding, relax," Sunrise said, putting her feet on the car dashboard.

  "But we need get you a plan."

  "What I need is sleep."

  "Right! So step one: find a motel and get some rest."

  "Step one?"

  "Yeah, our plan. It's divided into steps. One step at a time and everything will be just fine."

  "Okay. What's step two going to be?"

  "I'm working on that."

  They arrived at a motel and decided to get a room for the day: it was better to sleep during daytime and drive during the night – it was part of Sunrise's plan. So after a short shower, Hayden threw herself onto the bed, positive she was going to fall asleep in a second. As she was drifting away, Sunrise spoke.

  "Can you believe this?" she yelled from the bathroom. "They don't even have a bathtub!"

  "What did you expect? It's a one-star motel," Hayden said, too tired to yell.

  "I don't like showers. I need bathtubs."

  "What's your problem with showers?"

  "I have to stand up. I'm too lazy to stand up for ten whole minutes. I mean, come on, it should be relaxing, not tiring."

  "Just get in the freaking shower and let me sleep," Hayden mumbled.

  As Hayden fell asleep, she was sure Sunrise was still complaining.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Mrs Selling, accompanied by five police officers, knocked fiercely on the door of the Wilsons early that morning. "Is Hayden home?" she asked in a grave tone, as James opened the door.

  "Uhm, I don't know," James said, still half-asleep. Mrs Selling gave him a perplexed look: that was probably not the right answer to give a social worker. "I'll check," he said, as they all walked inside the house uninvited. "Please, do come in," he said ironically, closing the door.

  "What's going on?" Mike and Will appeared in the living room, wondering why their house was full of policemen.

  "We're looking for Hayden," Mrs Selling explained.

  "She's not in her room," James said as he walked back into the room, trying to not sound too worried. He had probably seen the bloodstained clothes lying on the ground in Hayden's bedroom. "Why are you looking for her?" he asked.

  "When was the last time you saw her?" a blond policeman asked them, ignoring him.

  "He asked you a question," Will shrieked, taking a step forward.

  "William, I'm going to have to ask you all to calm down and collaborate with the police," Mrs Selling said. "Sit down now."

  "I will be asking some questions to you, while my colleagues search your house," the blond offi
cer said.

  "Search for what?" Mike yelled, while James said, "Don't you need a warrant for that?"

  "We are here to help Hayden, we are not the enemies, James," Mrs Selling told him. "Please collaborate, do it for her."

  Not knowing what had happened to Hayden was driving them crazy, but they finally sat on the couch facing the interviewer, as the other men began searching their house. He asked about the last time they saw her, what she was doing last night, where they thought she might be now, about her friendships, about a guy named Luke. All their answers were so vague, yet true, that the officer began wondering if they really did live under the same roof.

  It didn't take long for the policemen to find the clothes in Hayden's room and, at that point, they were ready to give an explanation to the brothers.

  "Luke Morrison was shot yesterday night, a few blocks from here. We found Hayden's pendant there, and a gun. The forensic department is already working on the fingerprints, but we have witness that can testify Hayden and Luke were supposed to meet yesterday. The clothes here seem to confirm what happened." Mrs Selling's explanation shocked the Wilson brothers.

  "Are you trying to say that Hayden shot that guy?"

  "Hayden doesn't even have a gun."

  "Is the guy dead?"

  "Who are these witnesses?"

  "Do we need a lawyer?"

  "Who the hell is Luke Morrison?"

  "This can't be true." Mike, Will and James were flooding the social worker and the policemen with questions.

  "Please, calm down," she told them. "The most important thing right now is to find Hayden. It's not safe for her out there."

  "Is something missing from the house?" a policeman asked them. After looking around quickly, the brothers were able to list the missing things: money, the car and her backpack.

  "Do you have any idea where she might be headed?" the blond officer asked.