first day at a new high school and I was late and getting later. Couldn't find shoes, keys, anything important. I couldn't remember what time I was supposed to be there but late late late frantic. In the driveway the kids from next door got in the way of my car and wanted a ride, wanted to talk, wanted a story. I snapped at them and was only a little bit sorry. When I turned the car around it felt like I was going to slide down the hill. I could barely see over the dash. Had to break through a circle of angry men and felt guilty for not offering them a ride. Who was my passenger and why wouldn't he shut up?
I got there and realized it wasn't a new school but the same old one, everyone the same age as when I'd left, but I had still changed, I was still me-now. People streamed past me as I walked inside, all familiar, none recognizing me.
The family had moved to Florida and Noah and I were terrified about the amount of crime we saw all around us, touching everyone but us, waiting. We knew we were next. We decided to go to a pawn shop to prove it to our parents. The highway was insane and I couldn't see where I was going and there was blazing dangerous motion all around us.
The police had been watching me for days and weren't doing a very good job of being covert about it. I pretended to browse the storefronts down the way from my shitty unsafe apartment. There was what looked like a trashcan with heaps of cash on top. I wanted to take at least one of the hundreds but the cops were watching so I pushed it all inside the can, knowing it must be a collection for some charity.
Suddenly there was a man in a gray suit guiding me back to my apartment. Inside was Christine, from my creative writing class. She was the contact whose job was to set me straight. I knew it had something to do with the car. She said I was driving without a spare set of keys, and gave me like a half hour lecture on how irresponsible that was.