“Why are you going to Boston today?” the man asked. He looked at my small suitcase.
“To have a tea party.” I thought that was pretty witty, but neither of them laughed.
“Do you have a secondary form of ID?”
I dug around in my purse and pulled out my school ID. He looked at it and then the computer.
“Do your parents know where you are?”
That made me a little panicky, even though I knew I was a legal adult. A few stories popped into my head. I could say my parents were already in Boston waiting for me, or maybe just my dad. He’d separated from my mom and sent me the money at the last minute to spend Easter with him. Or I could go the straight-up orphan route. The tears stopped me, though. Emotion clogged my throat and I knew I couldn’t pull it off. Not when they were already suspicious. So I let the emotion take over instead.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Outraged customer. The airport seemed like a good stage for that.
The people behind me stopped grumbling and started to watch the show.
“Look, Miss Hoffman, there are certain protocols we have to follow for a cash purchase of a same-day ticket, especially a one-way ticket. I’m going to have to ask you to come with me while we check this out.”
There was no way I was going to get locked in some Homeland Security office while he called my parents and made this day ten thousand times worse. What if he could figure out who withdrew the envelope money? Did they have ways to do that? I reached over the counter and grabbed the bills and my IDs.
“Then I’m going to have to ask you to shove your ticket up your ass.”
“Should I call security?” The woman—who had totally dropped her perky act—picked up the phone and started dialing without waiting for an answer.
“Don’t bother; I’m leaving. See me leaving?” I grabbed my bag and wiped my eyes with the back of the fist that had crumpled all the money into a sweaty ball.
“Why don’t you calm down, Miss Hoffman, and we’ll—”
“Why don’t you calm down?” I cut the guy off with a glare. “I’m not a terrorist. I’m sorry you don’t want my eight hundred dollars for your crappy seat to Boston.”
Someone in line shouted out a cheer, but most of the crowd just stared as I wheeled my bag away, probably trying to decide what kind of bomb I was going to smuggle on the plane. Takes all kinds, Velma. Nudge, nudge. You wouldn’t suspect her of anything, would you?
I ran to the parking garage and had no idea how I got to my truck or paid the attendant, it was such a blur. My heart was pounding. I checked behind me every second, paranoid that some security guard was going to chase me down. And then once I got on the freeway, the sobbing started. I almost hit a minivan, my hands were shaking so bad. It wasn’t until a half an hour later that I realized I was headed back to Pine Valley. The Twin Cities had already disappeared and unplanted fields stretched as far as I could see.
This was what happened when you let yourself need someone.
This crap heap was what you turned into when you fell in love.
I was so happy—so free and above it all—when I started senior year last fall. That Hattie was ready to take on the world and she would have, damn it, she could have done anything. And now I was a pathetic, sobbing mess. I had become the girl I’d always hated.
Suddenly the radio cut out and the lights on the dash started flickering. Shit. I panicked as other cars flew past me. Spotting a turnoff up ahead, I swerved onto a gravel road that bisected two fields, eased off the gas, and let the truck coast to a stop. When I put it into park the engine coughed and then died completely. I tried the key. Nothing. I was stranded in the middle of nowhere.
Falling across the seat, I sobbed into the scratchy fabric until I had to puke and then stumbled out of the truck into the ditch, heaving up only coffee and stomach acid.
A cool wind whipped across the fields. It dried the sweat that had broken out on my forehead and helped the sickness to pass. I crawled away from the vomit and sat on the side of the ditch, letting the soggy ground turn my pants and underwear cold.
I stayed there for a long time, long enough that I didn’t feel the chill anymore. Long enough that the tears stopped and something else started.