Nowhere In Particular // H.S.

Four: Hank to Hendrix

She threw up in the alley way and then cried in my shoulder about how stupid she felt. I hugged her and told her that boys like that have a special place in hell reserved just for them.

I remember her looking up at me with hopeful eyes and I felt like at that moment I was doing everything right, and that I would never have to see Laurel like this again. Of course I was wrong. I've had to save her at least three times since then.

"Greta," Harry shakes my shoulder, his voice bringing me back to reality.

"Sorry," I shake my head, turning toward him. "What did you say?"

"I was just wondering if it's worked? Have you gotten any trouble with it?"

He looks at me with big eyes, his hair pushed up and his body leaning in close to me. The bus shakes us slightly in our seats but he stays still as he leans in, staring at me and the piece of plastic in my hand.

"Umm," I shrug. "I haven't really used it much, honestly. Only to get into a few 21+ shows, but I figured it would come in handy now. I'm sure I'll need to get a hotel at some point and since the majority of places won't let you book one when you're nineteen it seemed like a good thing to have."

"You're saying that a fake as good as that has only been used to get into a few bars to watch a concert?" he asks and I nod my head in response. "What a waste. Why did you get it then?"

"So I could vote," I say quickly, smiling as I do.

He looks at me confused, clearly not understanding my reference. I try to hold in the laughter but I find it hard as his face scrunches up while he thinks.

"But I thought you said you were nineteen? Why would you need a fake to vote if you're allowed to with the real one? Are you voting twice, Greta? You are quite the criminal, excelling more than you should in your citizenship."

"Harry," I tilt my head down, smiling to myself. "It's from the Breakfast Club, that line, I didn't get a fake to vote," I got a fake so I could protect my friend who has a tendency to get herself into bad situations.

"Oh, of course!" he says louder than I was expecting. "I knew that sounded familiar. Good movie."

I nod, agreeing with him. It's one of my favorite movies ever. It's a regular to play at Laurel's whenever I spend the night. We'll try to fall asleep but instead we'll end up quoting the lines, swooning over John Bender and screaming Don't You Forget About Me while jumping on her bed. I'm sure that's why it has become one of my favorites.

Harry smiles as he watches me remember memories of Laurel, the good ones. I think this is the longest I've gone without talking to her. The only other time I can remember even being close to this is when we were in second grade and angry with each other over an art project. She knocked over my sculpture of a bear on accident, and I being the unreasonable child I was smashed her popsicle stick frame in half.

We got over it pretty quickly.

I know she's been trying to get ahold of me. Whenever I turn on my phone it starts buzzing like crazy and her name occupies the majority of the screen, my mom being the only one to beat her in that. I just don't think I'm ready to talk to her yet. Even though I miss her like crazy, I'm not ready.

"I bet they're worried sick about you," Harry whispers. It's like he knows what I'm thinking about.

I look up at him, fiddling with the fake ID that's still in my hands, and shake my head slowly. I feel like he knows that I'm being careless and a little bit dumb for running away, but I also think he knows that I wouldn't do it for no reason at all. I know most people wouldn't take such a drastic measure if they had the life I had. I know I'm overreacting to some of the things that I've dealt with, because in the grand scope of things I don't have much to complain about.