My Sweetest Escape (10 page)

about it helped.

“I hear you, girl.” We finished our lunch

and talked more about the class, and

Hannah told me that as long as I did the

reading and had a reasonable grasp of the

current political cli-mate, I’d be fine. I

wasn’t so sure, but I took her word for it.

“Are you on campus?” she asked as we

dumped our trays and made our way

upstairs to the Starbucks. Hannah said she

needed her next caffeine fix.

“No. I live in a house in Bangor with my

sister and a bunch of her friends.” Hannah

let out a dreamy sigh.

“That sounds awesome. I’m stuck on

campus. Yay, scholarship.” She sounded so

enthused. “I’ve only lived with my

roommate for a few weeks, and she’s

already stopped talking to me. Luckily, she

has a boyfriend with an apartment, so she

usually stays there.”

Once again, been there, done that.

“It’s awesome if you feel like having

three sets of parents always watching your

every move.” I hadn’t meant to share so

much about myself, but I couldn’t help it. I

hadn’t talked to anyone like this in a while,

and there was something about Hannah. I’d

known her less than a few hours, but it was

like we’d met before, even though that was

impossible.

“That sucks,” she said as she got in line. I

decided to get my second round of tea just

for the heck of it. The line was crazy long

with everyone jonesing for their next fix like

a bunch of junkies standing in line for

methadone. Actually, the methadone was

probably cheaper.

By the time we got our drinks and found

a table crushed in a corner and two seats, it

was almost time for my next class. I downed

my tea and told Hannah I’d see her on

Wednesday.

We hadn’t talked about the rest of our

class schedules, but the chances of me

seeing her in another of my classes were

actually pretty good, and I had the feeling I

would.

I was searching for Neville Hall, which

housed my English class, when someone

tapped me on the shoulder.

“Fancy seeing you here, Red.” I pivoted

and found the ever-grinning face of Dusty

Sharp. He pulled a set of headphones nearly

identical to the ones I had off his ears and

let them rest around his neck. His wardrobe

of baggy everything hadn’t deviated, and I

found myself wondering, once again, how

his pants stayed up.

I wanted to say something snarky, but

instead a question came out of my mouth.

“Do you know where Neville Hall is?”

Someone yelled hello, and his eyes briefly

left my face to wave hello and call out to

someone.

“Sure. Follow me. I’m going there, as

well. What class do you have?”

“English.”

“Me, too.”

Jesus, if he and I were in the same class,

that would just suck beyond suckage.

He must have seen the horror on my

face. I hadn’t really tried to hide it.

“Just messing with you, Red. I have calc.

Would being in the same class with me be

that
bad?”

I didn’t answer as we crossed the road

and I saw a building with the words
Neville

Hall
on it. I could have found it if I’d looked,

but then I probably would have been late.

He held the door for me and a few

people coming in behind me.

“Thank you,” I said.

We paused in the lobby.

“I’m on the second floor,” he said,

pointing toward the stairs.

“I’m on the third.”

We walked up two flights and he gave

me that little two-fingered wave again.

“See you later, Red.”

“’Bye.”

I joined a few other people and plodded

my way up to the third floor.

I hadn’t fulfilled my English

requirements yet, so I was stuck taking

Creative Writing. When I walked in, there

were only about ten other people there.

That did not bode well for being able to

hide and listen to music. Great. I found a

seat in the back and close to the door and

looked around. I felt pretty young; most of

the people looked like they were quite a bit

older than me.

I’d gotten a decent grade in my English

comp class at UNH, but only because I’d

been one of the few students who turned in

assignments. I liked to read, but writing

those insipid papers where you had to

analyze what some dude who had died

hundreds of years ago had meant by writing

about rain or some such crap was pretty

much the worst thing ever.

Luckily, the more you seemed to

bullshit, the better grade you got. Maybe I

could do the same in this class.

A few more people trickled in until there

were fifteen of us. The professor was the

last one there, and he was everything a

teacher of English should be. He even had a

tweed jacket with those weird elbow

patches and horn-rimmed glasses.

He called attendance and when he got

to my name he asked me what I wanted to

be called. I went with Jos again as he

introduced himself as Greg and explained

how the class would go. I’d skimmed the

syllabus, but hadn’t really paid attention to

it. As he explained what we’d be doing, my

heart sank. We’d have to write something

every week, and during at least one class

period a week. And we had to read what

we’d written. Out loud. And, if that wasn’t

enough, he’d make copies of what we’d

written and we’d all have a class discussion.

Welcome to your nightmare, Jos Archer.

Once again, since I was new, I didn’t

have to do much, but this was going to be

another class in which I was required to

participate, even if I didn’t want to. At least

half of the class looked like they’d rather be

getting a lobotomy than be there, so at

least I was in good company.

I suffered my way through and then I

was finally done with classes for the day. I

scurried away from Neville Hall as fast as I

could before I could bump into Dusty again,

and checked my phone. There were several

missed texts from Renee, asking how

classes were going, and one from my

mother and another from Darah that was

just a smiley face.

I could have gone back to the house, but

I wanted to savor this time I had without

anyone watching my every move. It wasn’t

too cold, so I did a walk around campus,

finding the rest of my classes for the next

day and watching the other students go

about their lives, wondering what it was like

to be them.

When my legs started to get numb,

despite the walking, I went back to my car.

My instructions were to go right home, but I

didn’t. I’d been dying to go to Bull Moose in

Bangor, so I headed toward the mall. Bull

Moose was pretty much the best music

store in all of New England. I’d discovered

them when I went to UNH and I was over

the moon when I realized there was one

close to UMaine.

It took some maneuvering and

lane-switching to find the place, but I did.

The great thing about Bull Moose was

that they had not only CDs, but records and

old movies, and all the people who worked

there knew what they were talking about.

When I walked in, I let out a breath I hadn’t

known I’d been holding. Ah. I loved the

comforting rows of cases, all ordered by

genre and artist. Yes, most music could be

purchased online, but you couldn’t

duplicate the experience of going to a store

and browsing yourself.

“Can I help you, little lady?” Jesus. H.

Christ.
I paused with my hand on a

Radiohead CD that I didn’t currently own

and turned to make sure he wasn’t a

hallucination.

“No, thank you. I can pick out my own

music.” That was a lie. I’d recently

discovered The Black Keys, and I was hoping

to find more bands like them, but I was

never going to ask Dusty. Not in a million

years. “Are you stalking me? Because,

seriously, it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s stalking

me.
I was here first.

You came into
my
store.” I finally

noticed he had a lanyard around his neck

like the other guys who worked here.

“Oh, so this is
your
store? Do you own

it?”

“Nope, but I do work here. And I’ve

been going to Yellowfield House longer than

you, too. So I was here first.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I said, putting the

CD back. Even my music sanctuary had been

invaded.

“So you’re into music,” Dusty said,

straightening some of the CDs, as if he was

pretending to work. “What kind?”

“Taylor Swift,” I said, just to throw him.

Granted, I had listened to plenty of her stuff

and some of it wasn’t so bad.

But he didn’t know that.

“Well, we have a wide range of T Swift’s

music for your listening pleasure.” He

gestured toward the pop section. “I’m

partial to her earlier work, but her newest

album is getting great reviews.” I waited to

see if he was being sarcastic.

“Can you just let me browse without

being harassed? I get it enough at Renee’s,

and I don’t need it from everyone else.”

Wow, I did not mean to be that honest.

What was it with me today? I seemed to be

vocalizing everything I was thinking

whether I meant to or not.

“Wow, easy, Red.” He put his hands up

as if I’d held a gun to his head. “Just trying

to be a good employee and help a

customer, but if you want to be left alone,

you got it.” He turned around and left

before I could say anything else. I saw him

talking to a few of the other guys and

pointing at me.

What fresh hell was this?

He came back a few minutes later as I

was searching through the alt-rock section.

“Okay, so I’ve told everyone not to

approach you unless you approach them

first, so the store is yours, Joscelyn.” He

waved his arms to indicate everything.

“Thanks.” It sounded like a question.

“Anytime.” One last grin and he was

gone, off to the back of the store and

through a door marked Employees Only.

And I was left alone for the rest of my time

in the store.

I found a couple CDs, but didn’t look as

close as I wanted because I felt like all eyes

were on me, even though every time I

looked up, one or more of the employees

were giving me looks like I was going to run

over and stab them or something. God only

knew what he had told them so they’d

leave me alone. Then again, I probably

didn’t want to know.

When I got back from my little Bull

Moose trip, there were several cars parked

in the driveway, so I had to settle for

parking in the street.

“Hey, Miss

I’m-not-going-to-text-my-sister-back.”

Renee’s voice was the first thing I heard

when I walked through the door and hung

my coat up. Renee hopped up from the

couch and came over to glare at me.

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?” She crossed her arms and

leaned against the wall. I pushed past her

and went downstairs to put my stuff away.

Of course she followed me.

“Look, Renee, I know you find this hard

to believe, but I didn’t do anything bad. I

went to class, I had lunch, I went to Bull

Moose and I came back here. That’s all.

Besides, how can I do anything with you

riding my ass at every turn?”

Instead of yelling at me she just tossed

her hands in the air and then banged them

on her thighs.

“Why are you being like this, Jos? What

happened to my little sister who never, ever

swore? I don’t feel like I know you

anymore.”

“Maybe you didn’t know me before.

Maybe that girl was a lie.” She had been a

lie. That girl had a metal rod shoved so far

up her butt she was choking on it. That girl

was so afraid of stepping out of line or

making any waves that she never did

anything. Never broke curfew. Never got

drunk.

Never did anything that could be

construed as wild, or out of control, or free.

She was so fucking uptight that she

barely ever laughed. Or smiled. Or had any

fun of any kind. That girl never would have

just sat in a dark room and listened to music

without it having a purpose. Being that girl

was exhausting, but no one knew.

“I just don’t know what to say to you

anymore, Jos. You’re my sister and I feel like

you’re a complete stranger. What am I

supposed to do?” For the first time, I heard

the hopeless-ness in her voice. Renee didn’t

get hopeless. She didn’t get weak. She was

always tough as nails; she had to be with

our crazy parents.

“You don’t have to do anything.

Just…give me some space.