Crossroads

Another experimental writing. I’ve honestly never written anything like this before, so I’m interested to hear thoughts. (Character switches are names in bold)

(Anatase)

I slammed the door, releasing the grimy handle, bits of glass from the broken window falling to the ground. I stepped over them, uncaring. So what if I hurt myself? It wasn’t like anyone was around to care anyway. Not since my mother walked out. That was two months ago, and she hadn’t come back. No, she was too good for this life. Too good for any of this shit.

My father and I didn’t have the best relationship, hadn’t for years. He was always so wrapped up in his work that he didn’t have any time or attention to give me. Pissed me off, more than I cared to admit. And it’s not like I had any siblings to complain to. Not even any friends. I was alone.

And I guess it wasn’t a shock that he kicked me out

I trekked down the street, hood up in a desperate attempt to keep myself out of the chilling wind, but it didn’t help. The sweatshirt’s too light, always was, but I didn’t really have the ability to get another one right then. My father didn’t give me any money; I was in charge of getting everything I need for myself, unless it was food. And at fifteen, it wasn’t exactly like I had a job.

I shivered slightly, wrapping my arms around myself as I entered the main street in town. I shoved past people, ignoring the snide remarks aimed at me when I ran into them. How trite. I almost wanted to laugh at them, how pathetic they are, whining over something so trivial.

And I did. People’s eyes were drawn to me, the crazy boy laughing in the middle of the sidewalk, standing rigidly. Then, I started to walk again, head down, eyes affixed on the ground, blond hair falling in my eyes.

I don’t know how long I walked for, before I started to really feel the cold. Maybe an hour or two. It was snowing then, pouring down dozens of flakes onto the sidewalks. I ducked under the balcony of a shop, shaking, cold, hands in my pockets as I sat down on a small bench by the window.

Eventually, when it stopped raining, I moved again and continued my walk.

As cold as it was, I was never going to go home.

(James)

I don’t usually pick up hitchhikers, but when you see someone sitting along the side of the road in 3 degree weather, while it’s snowing nonetheless, you usually can’t help but want to help them. Or maybe that’s just me. Maybe it’s just the way I know my conscience would eat at me if I left him there.

I’d already driven past him, conflicting feelings about it in my head. Things like, “I’m not going to let him die of frostbite,” were cancelled out by the “what if he kills me?”s that also ran through my mind. I shook my head, kicking the truck into reverse, slowly backing up until I was parked on the side of the road next to him. His eyes shot up, looking directly at me as I rolled down the window.

“Hey.” I said calmly. Or maybe it wasn’t calmly, I couldn’t tell. “Need a ride?”

“You offering?” He replied with a cheeky tone.

“Yeah.” I said.

“Kickass.” He answered, standing, slinging a bag over one shoulder as he threw open the cab door, pulling himself in by the handle just beside the windshield. I momentarily glanced over his hole-ridden tennis shoes, his tattered sweatshirt. He pulled back the hood, revealing white-blond hair and incredibly pale skin. I could tell he was young, maybe seventeen or eighteen.

“Where we going, kid?” I asked.

“Anywhere,” He answered, rubbing his hands together. “Anywhere at all.”

“You sure?” I asked.

“Hell yeah.” He replied.

“Good. I’m heading to Oregon.” I responded.

“Oregon…is perfect.”

(Anatase)

The longer I spent in the car, the quieter it got. Quiet as hell. Talk about a boring person. “So, uh…” I said, breaking the silence before I could stop myself. It was like one of those times that you had to hear something to make sure you weren’t dreaming. To make sure you were still breathing.

“Yeah?” The guy asked.

I had barely noticed how tall he was before; tall, black hair, blue eyes, skin a couple shades darker than mine.

“Uh.” I bit down on my lip. “I guess I never really introduced myself and shit. I’m Anatase.”

He laughed. “What kind of a name is that?”

“My name.” I snapped. “And after someone gives their name, it’s only courtesy to introduce yourself, asshole.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you.” He paused. “You can call me James, kid.”

I’m not a fucking kid. “Yeah. Whatever,” I replied.

“Come on,” he started. “I did reply. No need to get angry.” I kicked my feet up, propping them on the dashboard. He frowned. “No scraping up my baby. Kay?”

I put my feet down. As much as I wanted to annoy him, I couldn’t afford to get kicked back out onto the street. “Whatever.” There was a long moment of silence. “Why Oregon?” I finally asked, interrupting the quiet.

“I’m in a business. Lumber.” He answered. “I spend half my time here in Montana, half my time in Oregon with my wife and son.”

“Yeah? Fun.” I replied, sarcastically.

“Better than having no job.” He answered. “Speaking of it, how old are you?”

“Fifteen.” I answered, and I could almost hear him slamming on his breaks. “I’m not a runaway, if that’s what you think.” I paused. “My father kicked me out.”

A long pause. Then he asked, softly, “Why?”

“Like hell if I know.” I answered. “He never cared about me anyway.” I stopped, looked out at the road. “Sometimes I wonder how different it would have been if he had.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I answered, leaning back in the seat. “How much further?”

“About ninety miles.” A pause. “Don’t go pulling the ‘Are we there yet?’ stuff on me.”

“Like hell I’d do that.” I replied. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

“Hm.” He ‘hmmed’.

“You ever think about just leaving, going around the country, nothing to care about, nobody to worry about?”

“Before I had a family,” James answered. “Not anymore.” He paused. “You’ll understand, someday.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Suit yourself.”

-End Introduction-