Lennon

Chapter One

            "So what brings you here, Lennon.  Rigby isn't exactly the 'it' place to go, ya know?" Troye starts to pick up the conversation, not understanding that I’m pretty uncomfortable with the whole situation.

            Does that man ever shut up? He sure does take being friendly to people to a whole new level; a level I would rather not visit. Okay, so maybe I think it’s adorable that there are still people out there who care so much about making strangers feel welcomed like this. However, it still doesn’t make me feel any better.

            He doesn't seem to be asking me the questions just because it’s a custom to do so. I can’t believe what my mind is pushing me to believe.... that he actually cares. Troye is genuinely curious as to why I'm the empty Denny's Dinner during lunch hour, eagerly waiting for an answer.

            How can I not spill everything -something - to such a caring puppy dog face?

            "It's complicated, basically. Things happened a few months ago while I was finishing up high school and I pushed them off. Bottled the up inside or whatever you want to call it. Real, real, real bad stuff - like John Green tear jerking plot line of a Best Selling New York Times book kind of stuff. It's whatever, though, you know? Fast forward until now and I'm just following the open road," the words cam e dripping out of my mouth without any sort of thought process.

            With a start, I realize that the little bit I shared with this stranger is the most I've ever let out. What kind of idiot can’t even trust her family with her emotions; opting out to tell her life story to someone she'll never see in her life again? Oh my thoughts - only a pathetic loser like me would.

            He must not sense my inner turmoil, or maybe he just doesn't comment on it. "Have you heard of Elliston?"  

            "Elliston?" I begin to twirl in the chair, creating the silence to be full of creaking voice. Few of the residents sharply turn their heads towards my directions, muttering a few dirty words and giving me the stank eye. What lovely people this dinner holds, really.

            They must just love me here.

            "You've never heard of it? It's your kind of place, actu-" He starts to say, inching closer to me as he talks.

            This is what I get for letting someone in like that. The old man is judging me by what little I told him, a small fragment of my 18 years of life being thrown aside in place of five months. How dare he even think to begin to judge a complete stranger; on what level is that mortally right? Is he really going to suggest I go to some nut house? A therapist, perhaps? No way, José.

            "And what kind of place would that be?" I questioned him, trying my best to channel my inner bitch.

            He looks at me with a flinch, as if he isn’t expecting me to get so offended. Shaking his head at my oh so stupid reaction, he explains. "I didn't mean that in a derogatory kind of way, man; no way would I ever mean it in that kind of way. I just meant that Ellison is a sort of place people end up when they need to find themselves. It's practically destiny for soul searchers to find it, eventually.

            It's a pit stop for lost humans of any age or race.  Back in the age of rock and roll when I stayed there, one girl was barely fourteen (although she told everyone she was sixteen) and another was in him late fifties. Of course that was way back when, but it's the kind of thing that will never change, you know?"

            He pauses his speech, a certain twinkle in his eyes. I can just tell how much that Elliston place means to him by the way he says the words so tenderly passionate and the way his hands fly all over his personal bubble with such spastic movements. It’s so incredible to see someone just so in love with something; so dedicated to a single topic.

            I still can't fully wrap my head around the fact a place like this exists and it actually working. "If it's so spectacular like you say it is, why haven't I heard about? Something so unique and wonderful like it would be all over Tumblr, you know - nothing like this has even been on my dash before."

            The question doesn't faze him in the slightest degree, instead making him give me a small smile. "The thing is, Lennon, people don't want to see a place where a bunch of lunatics live. It’s just not how society works - never has and it never will be."

            Although the lurid tone is evident through his words, he doesn't dwell on it for long. "It’s a paper town, of sorts; it’s not going to be on any map that you can find. I’ll give you the exact directions if you’re interested in that kind of place. Ellison isn't too far away from here, honestly. A few hundred miles up in Northern California, not even a day’s drive. It’s worth the shit gas money it takes to get through those woods at the beginning, trust me. You'll find yourself out there with no doubt."

            Almost as if she was waiting for the break in the conversation, Maeve reappears with a serving of my order.   "One Grand Slam with a side of orange juice for the pretty girl with the wicked winged eyeliner," she sucks up to me with a wink. As soon as the plate and tall glass are set down on the counter without a hitch, the waitress walks off to clean off another table before I could utter a single thank you.

            I thought my stomach was growling at it full capacity earlier, but that was no match compared to it now that it’s right in front of me.  A bit of drool threatened to make me appears barbaric, as my mouth starts to water at the sight of the glory savior.  

             Forget about trying to look decent for the sake of the general welfare, I’m going to shove the food down my throat before a single tick of the clock. It’s not like anyone besides Troye will even look my way, so I’ll be fine. If Mauve or the family of four lounging around in the way back booth happens to look my way for a split second at the horrific sound of my chewing, I’ll just casually wave. Nothing screams “I’m sorry I have no manners” than a friendly wave, right?

            With my fork hovering midair with a chuck of pancake and egg stabbing right through it, Troye’s last sentence replays over again in my head. It echoes off of the walls of my mind, growing louder and louder. I don’t really want to spend the pending years bouncing around between different Denny’s Dinners and truck stop bathrooms – I do want to find myself.

            He said the whole point of Elliston is to discover who you really are; make someone out of yourself for once in your life. The more if drifts in my mind, the more appealing the town sounds. A bunch of nomads overcrowding the woods with their heavy thoughts, all experiencing the same emotions that I am. I would never really be alone in my dark habits like I was back in Chasten.

            What could go wrong?

            I swing around in the squealing chair, my ankles nearly taking off the majority of his legs. I have to make it official before common sense kicks into my veins, making me realize just how much trust I’m putting into a complete stranger. “I’m in.”

i'm probably going to regret this later, but i'm going to post the unedit version on here. don't know when i'll edit it and fix all the errors, so beware.