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I fell into the cushy red booth at the very back of the almost-empty "crossroads diner" we had entered while cruising silently down route 81. A waitress who looked about 45 approached my table with an old note pad and a blue pen behind her ear. "What can I get 'cha Hun?" She had sounded like she partied too hard last night, had one too many drinks, woke up the next morning to a hangover and tried to ease things out with like 20 cigarettes before her shift. I raised my eyebrows at the crackling sound of her voice.
" I'll have a milkshake, please and thank you." She blinked her heavy eyelids. "We're all out."
"Ok, well then I guess I'll have a soda." She pursed her lips. "We're all out." She said again. I huffed.
"Fine. I'll just have water." She said no more and turned and walked back to the counter where there was a row of glasses filled with tap water. She brought one back to me. I eyed the water suspiciously. "Thank you..." I glanced at her name tag. "Betty..".
" Mhmm." Betty replied and walked away aimlessly. okay then. I had officially decided that this diner was eerie and weird. I dunked my straw into the visibly contaminated water and looked out the window to see Ransom pacing on the sidewalk nearby. He looked tense, yet problem-free. He had that charm, I suppose. His wholearm flexed as he brought his hand to his chin to ponder the problem at hand. At least I think that's what he was pondering. Ransom seemed to almost instantly feel my gaze upon him and began towards the diner.
YOU ARE READING
This Time It's My Turn •remodeled edition•
Teen Fiction"I guess you could say I have a hunch, but if I'm right...your family is in some real deep shit." That's all Ransom had to say for the rest of the time we ran. Was this some kind of paper town that hadn't actually existed on a map or on Google eart...
