Chapter 4
“You have to want more out of life than picking up other people’s garbage and living in this stupid town, Junk!”
We were in the truck again, New Year’s Eve 2005. A little over a month since our first kiss, since saying “I love you” to each other, we were together one last time before Mickey would take off for his private school in New Jersey for two years, and then on to Rutgers. Sure, he’d be home in between, but my dramatic teenage mind was telling me I would never ever see him again. “This is all because your mother called me trash back at Thanksgiving, huh?”
It was dark where we parked, back in the woods, again, as I was sent to fill up the truck for the day after New Year’s. The lack of light was beneficial, because no sixteen-year-old wants to be seen with tears in his e
