THE PHOTO TRAVELER (THE PHOTO TRAVELER SERIES - BOOK 1)

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER THREE

My adrenaline is pumping. The lack of sleep hasn’t had any effect on me. Yet.

            I leave a note for Dina on the kitchen counter telling her I’m going to visit some friends and to check out possible colleges. I figure she’s going to be so caught up in the ordeal with Jet that she probably won’t even notice, much less care, that I’ve left. By the time she pulls herself together, I’ll be eighteen and long gone. Out of their hair for good. I think it’s a win-win for all of us. 

            I call a local taxi company to meet me at the coffee shop down the street. I trudgethe three blocks with all of my stuff in tow. When I arrive, there’s no cab in sight. It’s already six-thirty, which gives me one hour to get to Carson City.

            I wait twenty more minutes. Still no cab. At this point I’m pacing back and forth along the sidewalk thinking that my big plan is going to be a big bust. As I’m pulling out my phone to call a third time, a green cab pulls up and honks. I race over, dragging my duffel bag along the pavement. I slam on the back of the trunk for the guy to open it. 

            “Can you open the trunk?” I yell.

            The driver opens his door and eases himself out at a glacial pace. He scratches at his dreads and gives me a suspicious look. I’m worried that he’ll ask me for my age, or for proof that my parents are allowing me to leave. I imagine I look exactly like a runaway, with all the bruising and bags.

            He just arches one pierced eyebrow. “Your folks know you’re traveling?” he asks in a deep, gravelly voice.

            “I don’t have parents,” I mutter, and point at my bruised lip.

            “Where ya need to go?”

            “Carson City. The Super Target parking lot. Please! The bus leaves at seven-thirty!” 

            “How old are you?”

            “Old enough! Please!”

            “You got cash, kid?” 

            “Yes!” I pull the wad of bills out of my camera bag “Here. Look!”

            He shakes his head and shrugs before hitting a button on his driver’s side that unlocks all the doors.

            We pull into the Target lot with five minutes to spare. The last person in line is just boarding the two-level silver bus. I shove the cab fare into the cabbie’s hand and rush to the bus like a crazed maniac. 

            When I reach the door, out of breath, I thrust my printed reservation to a guy outside holding a roster sheet. After I pay in cash, he checks me off. I peek inside and realize the bus is kinda empty. I heave a sigh of relief and walk toward the back. I’ll be able to spread myself across two seats and just listen to my music. I’d typically take pictures, but I can’t because my lens is trashed. I brought all the pieces with me anyway. It didn’t feel right leaving them behind.

            The bus driver is a plump, dark-skinned, middle-aged woman named Meesha who’s constantly twirling away at her coarse gray pigtails. She has this goofy grin and puffy lips that make me feel safe. Maybe because she reminds me of my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Henny, who to this day has always been my favorite teacher. She knew Leyla and always treated me so nicely. She’d even walk me to the car when class was over. Always asked me how I was doing. It’s been years since I’ve seen her but I always think about how she’s doing. I hope she’s doing okay. I think that I miss her way more than I would ever Mel or Dina.