Hitchhikers (Wolf Point #1)

-24-

Lila finds me right around the time I find the road. It took just about every ounce of concentration to find it, hearing that faint rumble of trucks, smelling the wisp of exhaust fumes. Trekking through the woods and farmland wasn't nearly as hard. I'm full and I have shoes on again, a warm coat, and my face is clean, all the snot and tears erased.

"Where have you been?" I ask as she trots up, her mouth smiling. She keeps her head down.

"So it's like that, huh?"

I try to ignore her, even telling myself I'll hitch a ride and leave her behind like last time, but when a sedan pulls up, a tired-looking man in a business suit asking me if I need a ride but "I don't have room for your dog," I shake my head and say thanks, anyway.

"That doesn't mean you're forgiven," I tell Lila. To further explain myself to an animal who has no idea what I'm saying, "You can't do that, let me get too hungry. You're lucky I didn't kill you."

She leaps at a crow pecking at roadkill, snapping her teeth as it flies off.

"I'm serious! And no more going through the woods. We stick to the roads. I can find food on the road."

Trotting back to where I'm walking along, Lila licks at my hand. I snatch it away. "I'm still mad."

My stomach full of woodland creatures keeps almost all day. Until we hit a diner planted in the middle of a barren stretch of road, and the smell of burgers on the grill reminds me that I haven't eaten since about 3 a.m.

There's no sign on the door to say otherwise, so I let Lila in with me, and we seat ourselves at a booth in the corner. Lila curls up on my feet under the table.

Two men at the counter, sitting a couple of stools apart. Both sport the flannel shirt and down vest combo of truckers. One of the other booths holds a teenage couple sitting across from each other. The boy's wearing a football jersey. There's a family at another booth, a mom with stringy hair wearing a waitress uniform and two squirmy kids dipping French fries into ketchup. I can only see the back of the dad's head but he's got a large bald patch.

As I look around at all of them, I begin to realize that most of them are looking back at me.

The waitress finally sees me. She has bright red hair pulled up and heavy eyeliner, and she's wearing the same brown and tan uniform as the lady sitting with her family. I order a burger and fries and a large soda. "Can I have another burger just plain? Like no bun or anything else?"

She looks down at my feet and suddenly I fear I'm going to get kicked out of this place.

"Sure."

When she walks back behind the counter I watch her conferring with a woman in back wearing an apron. I close my eyes and listen to their low voices under the clink and clatter of the diner.

"Hey, Donna, that kid's got a dog in here, under the table."

"Is it a service dog?"

"No... It looks like some stray. But who knows. The dog's got no collar, and he looks like he's been sleeping in the woods."

"Where is he? Oh. Well, I don't see what harm it can do to let him stay. The dog's lying down."

"Isn't it unsanitary?"

"We have to let service animals in here... it's not any more unsanitary than that."

A big sigh. "You're the boss..."

I whisper a thank you and open my eyes. Everyone has stopped looking at me. Maybe they've also overheard the conversation between the waitress and Donna, or maybe I'm not all that interesting. I'm just some homeless kid with a scruffy mutt. They probably think I'm going to run off before I pay the bill.

"Here you go, hon." A plate slides in front of me. Hot food. I shove a bunch of French fries in my mouth even as I'm reaching for the ketchup. Then I see the waitress sliding into the seat in the booth opposite me.

"You got a place to stay tonight?" she asks in a low voice. She can probably feel the eyes of the other people in the restaurant on the back of her neck. Now I can see that her name tag says Beverly.

"I'll be okay," I answer, which I know isn't really an answer. My stomach gurgles with nervousness.

Not here not now

"I'm just passing through." I try to appear confident when I say this, like I'm older than sixteen

(or fifteen)

"I don't want to hear that someone's found you dead on the side of the road." Beverly steals a French fry off my plate. "Donna's a bleeding heart, but mine's not made out of stone either. And I'm not letting her take you in for the night, her being all alone. My husband will be here to pick me up around 9. If you're still here you're welcome to stay with us." She sniffs as she slides out of the booth. "You could certainly use a shower."

I don't answer. I don't think Beverly needs or wants me to. I mull it over in my head as I scarf down my burger and sop up every ounce of juice and salt and ketchup with my fries, and slip the plain patty down to Lila when no one's looking. Beverly keeps my soda topped off, which is why I'm still sitting there an hour later, when she brings over a slice of cherry pie and the check.

"The pie's on the house," she says.

"Thanks."

She turns and walks away. "At least you've got some manners."

I pull out my money and count out the exact amount. I know you're supposed to leave a tip but it's been so long since I've eaten in a real restaurant, and even then it was with my parents. How much money do you leave? I count out one extra dollar and tuck the roll of bills away.

The jock and his girlfriend are looking at me. I squeeze the money in my fist, hoping they hadn't seen. The guy is big, that bulked up football build. He could probably crush my head between his hands. Well, unless I black out. Then he'll be the one with a crushed head.

This thought immediately puts me in a bad mood. What am I thinking, sitting here, waiting for some guy I don't know who doesn't know me to come and bring me back to his place? Even if Beverly is okay, I don't know her husband.

I can't be that lucky, to find decent people to stay with twice.

I get up and leave, Lila at my heels, and head outside. I know why I was sitting inside. It's sharply cold out here, and dark. My breath rises into the air in a hot cloud.

Behind me I hear the shuffling sounds of people getting up and following me out.

Fuck.