Chapter 1
Chapter 1
My great-aunt Sophie was a character. That’s what they called her, and not nicely meant, either. She never married or had kids, though she had a live-in companion/housekeeper, and raised a couple of nephews. I only met her a couple times, and stayed with her once when my Mom and Dad went on a cruise. I was thirteen at the time and had stopped being an adorable baby, cute toddler, sweet little Mama’s boy, and dirt magnet with a brilliant smile, and was an awkward combination of legs, arms, elbows, big hands and huge feet, with hair growing in places I’d never known I had skin, and a face that only a mother could love, or in this case, a great-aunt.
And, oh yeah, inclined to moods, anti-socialness, writing poetry, and falling out of trees. One other thing, aka ‘self-pollution’ as our ancient dictionary called it, was now a rather frightening joy, and I say that because, well, all I ever thought of while doing it was my gym teacher, Coach ‘call me d**k and I’ll kill you’ Richard Weston.
I was only there a week and never had a clue. So now I’ve just turned eighteen, and the ‘rents are going on another cruise. I told them and told them I’m old enough to stay home alone and watch the house, and besides, my friends aren’t the kind to come over, drink up all the booze, and have s*x all over the house. Neither of them. But I digress. Anyhow, they shipped me off to Aunt Sophie’s again.
They’d given me money to buy a train ticket and dropped me off at the station. Little did they know…they knew I was old enough to take the train by myself but not to stay home by myself? Parents. Mom? Dad? Hello? I’m a legal adult, you know. Many people my age are living on their own.
As soon as they left, I pocketed the money and went out a different door to hitch a ride. That money was mine. I had a bit of an attitude about this trip, and I planned on nursing that anger as long as I could. I considered taking up smoking, but, ugh. I considered wearing clothes from a thrift store, but, bleagh. I considered working my way through every girl that had ever winked or smiled at me, but, oh God, no. I shuddered. My mom had said some perfectly awful things to me. Well, there’s more but I don’t want to talk about it. I am not a girl liker. Too bad.
Now. Hitch-hiking! Let the games begin!
