Swing Life Away, chapter 2
I left my bike outside of the bus station knowing I wouldn't be back for it. I stepped inside the deserted station.
By now you're probably wondering where I was planning on going. Well I happened to have a friend at Kitty Hawk. She and I had always said that if we were to run away we were welcome at each others house. Now I just hoped that she would keep her promise.
I approached the ticket window and looked at the lady inside. She looked like a flight attendant. From her knee length skirt to the white blouse and blue jacket, complete with a nametag that I couldn't quite make out.
It took me a minute to find my voice. "Excuse me? Could you tell me when the next bus for Kitty Hawk leaves?"
She stared at me blankly, as if not expecting to see anyone. She started to push buttons on her computer. I had almost given up hope when she spoke up. "The next bus leaves in half an hour."
Her voice was like glass, as though she was scared that her computer would explode if she talked louder then a whisper. "Thanks."
I sat on a cold lonely bench that sat against the wall. I sat there for about five minutes, just thinking, before I noticed someone sit down beside me. I looked over, and sitting there was the lady from the ticket window. I was close enough now to read her name tag. It read, in big bold flight attendant style letters, 'Barbara'. I continued to stare at the horrible choice of clothes until she spoke. "You shouldn't run away."
Her words shocked me even more then her outfit. Not only did they shock me, they made me angry. I had barely spoken five words to the woman and she assumed I was running away. I know I was running away but that?s beside the point. Anyways what did she know about it? She had no idea why I was leaving, and certainly had no right to judge me. When I finally spoke, my words were filled with anger and trembling slightly. "Who says I'm running away?" I snapped, and then, a little softer, "It's none of your business anyway."
To my surprise she snapped back. "Now look here, I know you think I don't know shit" Her words surprised me. I was supposed to be angry, not her. "But I ran away when I was about your age and look where it got me. I never got a decent education or anything so I'm stuck here, far away from my family and earning only minimum wage."
After she spoke she got up and went back to her spot at the ticket window. I just sat there open mouthed. I couldn't believe that what happened to Barbara would happen to me. I wouldn't believe her. At the moment, I didn't have a choice.
After what seemed like hours the bus finally pulled up. This was it, no turning back now. A rush of memories hit me like a car had only a few hours ago. Conversations, laughter, jokes, thoughts, all crammed into one second. I couldn't move. My legs wouldn't let me. But as the bus started to move I heard a car honking somewhere. My mind lurched with fear and I leaped with fear. I was on the bus. I was now on my way to Kitty Hawk.
As sad as I was I was sort of relieved to be going to see Hannah. She would understand. She could help me. I had met her at camp last year and between then and now we had come to understand each other way to well. It didn't hurt that we were best friends either.
I had found an empty seat on the bus. They were the standard puke-green, lumpy, cold bus seats but I didn't care. MY thoughts were wandering everywhere and anywhere. I thought mainly about if Hannah would even be there, and if she was, would I be welcome?
About an hour after the bus ride started my hangover, which I had miraculously avoided, started to catch up with me. In less than half an hour I was clutching my head and rocking back and forth. That really had been a lot of vodka, so much in fact, that I hadn't noticed the guy sit down beside me.
He looked like a stereotypical hobo. You know, with the ratty gloves, overcoat, bottle in his hand. The only odd thing was that he looked in his early twenties. It was the bottle that drew me in though. I figured that the only cure for a hangover, with the exception of coffee, would be more alcohol.
He must have noticed me staring at him because he thrust the bottle at me. I took it and smelled it before drinking, I always was paranoid. I frowned. Vodka, my favorite.
Before the tears could start I threw back about a quarter of the bottle. Now that's the way to cure a hangover. The hobo started passing the bottle between us. It was almost gone when the giggling began. Unfortunately they weren't so bad that I couldn't talk.
"I think" giggle "it's very good" giggle "that I'm running" giggle" away." giggle. HE just stared at me, very serene like. Obviously he could hold his liquor a lot better then me. I found that really attractive in a guy. I continued with my extremely giggly speech.
Giggle "Considering that my parents" giggle "are" giggle "assholes."
He seemed to flinch. OR maybe he was squinting. I couldn't tell through my drunken haze. That really was some strong vodka.
Then something amazing happened. HE turned his head and spoke.
"Don't swing your life away."
He spoke with suck eloquence. His voice was soft and wise. HE suddenly looked a lot older then he should have been. MY giggling was momentarily lost. I best over and placed my lips on his. Our tongues met briefly before breaking apart. WE sat there and stared at each other. He looked slightly scared and I'm sure that I had a huge drunken grin plastered on my face.
The giggling began again.
The bus driver started shouting about Kitty Hawk. The long bus ride was almost over, and all I could do was giggle. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this was bad. What would happen if I showed up at Hannah?s house drunk? This thought was shoved out of my mind however, as the hobo offered me the remaining vodka.
I was off the bus. MY butt was sore from sitting down for so long, the sudden brightness of light was making me dizzy, and my mind was clouded from my third bottle of vodka in a 24-hour period. Had it really been last night that Lizzy had died? My thoughts were interrupted by a shout from across the street.
"Kate?" I turned around to see who was interrupting my buzz.
"Kate!" And there was Hannah running towards me. She tackled me in order to give me a hug.
"Hey Hannah!" I slurred. "How's it hanging?" The vodka was really taking over now.
"What are you doing here?" Confusion was starting to take over her now.
"Oh you know, the usual. Parents are assholes, you're my best friend, Lizzy's dead..." My voice trailed off into drunken babbling but Hannah stopped dead in her tracks.
"Kate..." she had a look of concern on her face that was starting to make me mad. I wouldn't be mad if I weren't drunk. In fact I would probably be really sad about it, but I hadn't been sober since Lizzy died.
That's why I didn't want Hannah to hug me. SO naturally, when she did reach out to hug me, I struggled.
"Don?t touch me!" I screamed, lashing out at her. "Why are you sad? You didn't know her! She wasn't your sister!"
She was still trying to hug me when my vision started to fuzz around the edges.
"Don't touch me....Don't.....tou-" My fuzzy vision turned into no vision and my head hit the ground before Hannah could catch me.
By now you're probably wondering where I was planning on going. Well I happened to have a friend at Kitty Hawk. She and I had always said that if we were to run away we were welcome at each others house. Now I just hoped that she would keep her promise.
I approached the ticket window and looked at the lady inside. She looked like a flight attendant. From her knee length skirt to the white blouse and blue jacket, complete with a nametag that I couldn't quite make out.
It took me a minute to find my voice. "Excuse me? Could you tell me when the next bus for Kitty Hawk leaves?"
She stared at me blankly, as if not expecting to see anyone. She started to push buttons on her computer. I had almost given up hope when she spoke up. "The next bus leaves in half an hour."
Her voice was like glass, as though she was scared that her computer would explode if she talked louder then a whisper. "Thanks."
I sat on a cold lonely bench that sat against the wall. I sat there for about five minutes, just thinking, before I noticed someone sit down beside me. I looked over, and sitting there was the lady from the ticket window. I was close enough now to read her name tag. It read, in big bold flight attendant style letters, 'Barbara'. I continued to stare at the horrible choice of clothes until she spoke. "You shouldn't run away."
Her words shocked me even more then her outfit. Not only did they shock me, they made me angry. I had barely spoken five words to the woman and she assumed I was running away. I know I was running away but that?s beside the point. Anyways what did she know about it? She had no idea why I was leaving, and certainly had no right to judge me. When I finally spoke, my words were filled with anger and trembling slightly. "Who says I'm running away?" I snapped, and then, a little softer, "It's none of your business anyway."
To my surprise she snapped back. "Now look here, I know you think I don't know shit" Her words surprised me. I was supposed to be angry, not her. "But I ran away when I was about your age and look where it got me. I never got a decent education or anything so I'm stuck here, far away from my family and earning only minimum wage."
After she spoke she got up and went back to her spot at the ticket window. I just sat there open mouthed. I couldn't believe that what happened to Barbara would happen to me. I wouldn't believe her. At the moment, I didn't have a choice.
After what seemed like hours the bus finally pulled up. This was it, no turning back now. A rush of memories hit me like a car had only a few hours ago. Conversations, laughter, jokes, thoughts, all crammed into one second. I couldn't move. My legs wouldn't let me. But as the bus started to move I heard a car honking somewhere. My mind lurched with fear and I leaped with fear. I was on the bus. I was now on my way to Kitty Hawk.
As sad as I was I was sort of relieved to be going to see Hannah. She would understand. She could help me. I had met her at camp last year and between then and now we had come to understand each other way to well. It didn't hurt that we were best friends either.
I had found an empty seat on the bus. They were the standard puke-green, lumpy, cold bus seats but I didn't care. MY thoughts were wandering everywhere and anywhere. I thought mainly about if Hannah would even be there, and if she was, would I be welcome?
About an hour after the bus ride started my hangover, which I had miraculously avoided, started to catch up with me. In less than half an hour I was clutching my head and rocking back and forth. That really had been a lot of vodka, so much in fact, that I hadn't noticed the guy sit down beside me.
He looked like a stereotypical hobo. You know, with the ratty gloves, overcoat, bottle in his hand. The only odd thing was that he looked in his early twenties. It was the bottle that drew me in though. I figured that the only cure for a hangover, with the exception of coffee, would be more alcohol.
He must have noticed me staring at him because he thrust the bottle at me. I took it and smelled it before drinking, I always was paranoid. I frowned. Vodka, my favorite.
Before the tears could start I threw back about a quarter of the bottle. Now that's the way to cure a hangover. The hobo started passing the bottle between us. It was almost gone when the giggling began. Unfortunately they weren't so bad that I couldn't talk.
"I think" giggle "it's very good" giggle "that I'm running" giggle" away." giggle. HE just stared at me, very serene like. Obviously he could hold his liquor a lot better then me. I found that really attractive in a guy. I continued with my extremely giggly speech.
Giggle "Considering that my parents" giggle "are" giggle "assholes."
He seemed to flinch. OR maybe he was squinting. I couldn't tell through my drunken haze. That really was some strong vodka.
Then something amazing happened. HE turned his head and spoke.
"Don't swing your life away."
He spoke with suck eloquence. His voice was soft and wise. HE suddenly looked a lot older then he should have been. MY giggling was momentarily lost. I best over and placed my lips on his. Our tongues met briefly before breaking apart. WE sat there and stared at each other. He looked slightly scared and I'm sure that I had a huge drunken grin plastered on my face.
The giggling began again.
The bus driver started shouting about Kitty Hawk. The long bus ride was almost over, and all I could do was giggle. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this was bad. What would happen if I showed up at Hannah?s house drunk? This thought was shoved out of my mind however, as the hobo offered me the remaining vodka.
I was off the bus. MY butt was sore from sitting down for so long, the sudden brightness of light was making me dizzy, and my mind was clouded from my third bottle of vodka in a 24-hour period. Had it really been last night that Lizzy had died? My thoughts were interrupted by a shout from across the street.
"Kate?" I turned around to see who was interrupting my buzz.
"Kate!" And there was Hannah running towards me. She tackled me in order to give me a hug.
"Hey Hannah!" I slurred. "How's it hanging?" The vodka was really taking over now.
"What are you doing here?" Confusion was starting to take over her now.
"Oh you know, the usual. Parents are assholes, you're my best friend, Lizzy's dead..." My voice trailed off into drunken babbling but Hannah stopped dead in her tracks.
"Kate..." she had a look of concern on her face that was starting to make me mad. I wouldn't be mad if I weren't drunk. In fact I would probably be really sad about it, but I hadn't been sober since Lizzy died.
That's why I didn't want Hannah to hug me. SO naturally, when she did reach out to hug me, I struggled.
"Don?t touch me!" I screamed, lashing out at her. "Why are you sad? You didn't know her! She wasn't your sister!"
She was still trying to hug me when my vision started to fuzz around the edges.
"Don't touch me....Don't.....tou-" My fuzzy vision turned into no vision and my head hit the ground before Hannah could catch me.
