Chapters (46)
- Cover
- Other Titles
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Friday
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- Saturday
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- Sunday
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Monday
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
London finally makes it up to the counter. The bored ticket lady, who is probably around Nana’s age, has crunchy dyed blond curls and glasses with pink frames, and is wearing a T-shirt with a photograph of a kitten screen-printed on the front. She has her head bent over a piece of paper and is studying it intently while she chews her gum with her mouth open. London tries not to gag as she watches her, but other people’s saliva is just, like, so gross.
“How much is a one-way ticket to Duluth?” London asks.
“Eighty,” she says, without looking up.
London fumbles in her purse and counts out a wad of damp fives and tens. That would take up basically all of her savings. She hoped Adam wasn’t joking when he said he could take care of everything once she got there. “Um, what time does it leave?”
“Noon.”
London glances at the clock. It’s two thirty. Crap. Another day wasted. “Um, I guess…can I buy a ticket for tomorrow, then?” she says, smoothing the money out along the counter, more to calm her shaking hands than anything else.
The ticket lady finally raises her head. She eyes London up and down, slowly chomping on her gum. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” says London.
“Let me see your ID.”
“Sixteen.”
“Uh-huh,” says the ticket lady. She bows her head back over her paper, and London can now see that it is covered with concentric circles, the ink so deeply etched that the paper is ripped in some places.
“But I’m a mature sixteen,” says London.
“Sorry,” the ticket lady says, not sounding sorry at all. “Bring along a parent or guardian and then we can talk.”
“I don’t have a parent or guardian,” says London, stuffing the money back in her purse angrily. “I’m an orphan. I’m just trying to find my way in this mad, mad world.”
“Aren’t we all,” the ticket lady says. “Next, please!”
The universe is against her. London knows this is what all teenagers always say, but in her case, it’s actually true. The universe has never been more against anyone than it is against her at this moment. She might as well just go home and lock herself in her room for the rest of eternity. She might as well have gone over Kakabeka Falls herself.
—