Extraordinary Girl, chapter 3
Hailey didn't say much on the train home, so I didn't say much either. I'd just gained her trust, and I wasn't about to throw it away with a few words. But I knew there was one question I had to ask, one question I and Sarah (whose reaction to this I was still picturing in my head) would need to know the answer to.
I coughed, shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic seat. Hailey's steady gaze out the dark window didn't break.
"Hailey, I...well, I need to ask you something."
Her eyes dart nervously to her flip-flop-bearing feet, then at me. "Yeah...okay."
I sigh. "Do you...do you have a family? Where do you live?"
Her green eyes widen and she looks back at her feet, fingers drumming on her thigh, other hand still holding my jacket against the wound. There's a long, awkward silence and for a moment I feel like I've killed her trust in me.
"I won't--" I begin to try and reassure her, but she cuts me off.
"I have a foster family," she says quietly.
I nod slightly, figuring I won't push it any further, though I wondered if she ran away from them. Or maybe she just happened to be out late tonight.
"My parents and brother died when I was three," she continues.
I lift my head and look at her figure, her head resting against the smudged glass window, long dark hair falling over her dirt-streaked face. She removes my jacket from her neck, which by now is lumped with dried blood. I take the jacket and fold it up.
"We were in the car. I barely remember it-- just that I was in a car seat. I forget where we were going. It was late at night, and a drunk driver going the wrong direction on the highway hit us. I just remember my mom screaming, and bright lights..."
She pauses, wiping away a tear. I want to reach out and hold her hand, but something stops me.
"My parents died immediately. My brother.. he was seven at the time.. threw his body over me to protect me. He saved my life." She takes a deep breath. "I've been jumping around from home to home since then."
I say nothing for a while. What can I say to make her feel better? "I had a broken home," I say. I wince at my own somewhat cheesy words, but her interest is clearly perked.
"My birthmother was a pothead," I chuckle. "I had an adoptive family. They were good parents and everything, but they split when I was seven." Suddenly specific details of my childhood came racing back. I feel like I've opened up something deep inside me and I can't stop.
"We lived in Rodeo for a while, and I met Billie there, and after my parents split my mom went bankrupt... I didn't want to leave Rodeo, but she and my sister had no choice... I had great friends there, you know? I didn't want to leave. So I rented out the Armstrong's garage. It was pretty awesome, living in your best friend's house. And then when we met Tre..."
I suddenly stop myself, realizing in a matter of 30 seconds I'd given away my identity--whether it was secret or not.
"I...umm, I..." I don't know what to say.
"That's why I trusted you," she says. "I knew you were Mike Dirnt."
I coughed, shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic seat. Hailey's steady gaze out the dark window didn't break.
"Hailey, I...well, I need to ask you something."
Her eyes dart nervously to her flip-flop-bearing feet, then at me. "Yeah...okay."
I sigh. "Do you...do you have a family? Where do you live?"
Her green eyes widen and she looks back at her feet, fingers drumming on her thigh, other hand still holding my jacket against the wound. There's a long, awkward silence and for a moment I feel like I've killed her trust in me.
"I won't--" I begin to try and reassure her, but she cuts me off.
"I have a foster family," she says quietly.
I nod slightly, figuring I won't push it any further, though I wondered if she ran away from them. Or maybe she just happened to be out late tonight.
"My parents and brother died when I was three," she continues.
I lift my head and look at her figure, her head resting against the smudged glass window, long dark hair falling over her dirt-streaked face. She removes my jacket from her neck, which by now is lumped with dried blood. I take the jacket and fold it up.
"We were in the car. I barely remember it-- just that I was in a car seat. I forget where we were going. It was late at night, and a drunk driver going the wrong direction on the highway hit us. I just remember my mom screaming, and bright lights..."
She pauses, wiping away a tear. I want to reach out and hold her hand, but something stops me.
"My parents died immediately. My brother.. he was seven at the time.. threw his body over me to protect me. He saved my life." She takes a deep breath. "I've been jumping around from home to home since then."
I say nothing for a while. What can I say to make her feel better? "I had a broken home," I say. I wince at my own somewhat cheesy words, but her interest is clearly perked.
"My birthmother was a pothead," I chuckle. "I had an adoptive family. They were good parents and everything, but they split when I was seven." Suddenly specific details of my childhood came racing back. I feel like I've opened up something deep inside me and I can't stop.
"We lived in Rodeo for a while, and I met Billie there, and after my parents split my mom went bankrupt... I didn't want to leave Rodeo, but she and my sister had no choice... I had great friends there, you know? I didn't want to leave. So I rented out the Armstrong's garage. It was pretty awesome, living in your best friend's house. And then when we met Tre..."
I suddenly stop myself, realizing in a matter of 30 seconds I'd given away my identity--whether it was secret or not.
"I...umm, I..." I don't know what to say.
"That's why I trusted you," she says. "I knew you were Mike Dirnt."
