Him, Carey Heywood [books for 5 year olds to read themselves .TXT] 📗

I feel like I'm grayscale sitting next to her. She seems almost Technicolor with her cotton candy toned streaks peeking out underneath her white blonde hair to her facial piercings and half sleeve tattoo on her left shoulder. It's cool on the train, and I wonder if she's cold in her black tank top with the giant Rolling Stones mouth on it and cut-off jean shorts. There is so much going on with her I'm not sure where to look. She's compact too, maybe three inches shorter than me and skinny. I bet she could skip a meal if she was heartbroken. She talks with her entire body, tapping her foot, wildly gesturing with her hands, tilting her head from side to side.

I start to wonder if she's high or naturally hyper. She seems to have no fear talking to me, or anyone sitting near us. She’s moving to Trenton to live with an ex-boyfriend because she caught her current boyfriend, well now ex, getting head from their neighbor. The ex she’s going to live with only offered her a place so he would have a chance to get in her pants again. She shrugs when she says that, almost saying she wouldn’t mind that either. As she talks about what a royal ass her current ex is, I stare at her tattoo. It’s on the shoulder farther away from me, and I can only see half of it. She catches my eye and turns so I can get a better look at it. It’s an elaborate blue-feathered bird, its wings on fire.

"It’s a phoenix," she says, looking down at it, her right hand raised to trace its outline with her fingertip.

"Beautiful," I say. "Did it hurt?" I've always thought about getting one.

"It hurt in some places." She points to a section on the underside of her arm. "Mainly it felt like rough rubbing, if that makes any sense. Not like getting a shot at the doctor. You scared of needles?"

"I wouldn’t say I'm scared of them, but I don’t like them," I admit.

We continue like this until we have to get off and switch trains in Philadelphia. I crack up when she seems surprised I get on the same train as her. I still haven’t told Sawyer I’m going to Trenton too. When I show her my ticket, she beams and insists that we hang out once we both get settled.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because Sawyer shakes me awake when reach Trenton. It's three o'clock in the morning, and she offers to let me crash on her ex's couch so I can try and figure out where my uncle lives in the morning.

She just has to clear it with her ex, Jake. He is waiting in the station for her, and she runs to him and jumps into his arms. He's tall and muscular, with shaggy brown hair that reminds me of Will. He's awake enough to pick her up and spin her around. I predict make up sex in their future. When Jake sets her down, Sawyer pulls him over to me and clears the whole couch crashing plan. He nods to me in greeting and asks Sawyer where she's sleeping if I'm on the couch.

"I'm sure I can find someplace," she says, winking at him.

He grins and pulls her suitcase with one hand and carries my duffle in his other. He drives a beat up, single bed truck. After tossing our bags in the back, we climb in, Sawyer sitting in the middle.

During the drive over Jake looks over at me. "Are you in trouble or something?"

"Huh?" I'm tired, so I'm not sure what he's asking.

"Why doesn’t your uncle know you're coming?"

I sigh. "I haven’t told anyone."

"So," Jake continues, "are you in trouble?"

"Like with the law? No. With my parent's for taking off probably and my brother. I kinda took his car without asking, but I left it at the train station so—"

"How old are you?" Sawyer squints at me.

"I'm eighteen, so relax. I just had to get away."

"Why?" Sawyer rubs my arm.

I look at the side window, blinking away tears. "Um, that's a long story."

"We got time, Yoda." She gestures at my Star Wars t-shirt.

The story doesn’t take as long as I thought it would. By the time we are at Jake's apartment, I've told them all about Will, Jessica, and what his mom said. I start crying about halfway through and am now hiccupping as I get out of the truck. Sawyer walks beside me, rubbing my back as Jake grabs our bags from his truck.

Jake drops my duffle and backpack next to an ancient looking sofa in his living room. Sawyer digs through her bags in search of tea to make me a cup. She says it will help. My throat feels like I gargled sandpaper after talking while crying so tea sounds nice. I settle down on the sofa and wait while she microwaves water. Jake is standing in the doorway of his bedroom, probably wishing Sawyer was not occupied with me. The sofa is soft but kinda smells like feet, so I pull out a hoodie from my bag to sleep in. I'll wait until Jake and Sawyer go to bed to put it on. I don’t want to offend Jake, but I also don’t want my hair to smell like feet when I wake up.

Sawyer brings me my tea, and I tell her and Jake I'm fine and to go ahead to go to bed. Jake must not be scared I'll steal any of his stuff because he does just that. Sawyer lingers a moment or two longer before following him. I pull out my iPod to drown out the sounds of their getting reacquainted. I fall asleep listening to an audiobook of the first Harry Potter book. It’s narrated by an English man, and I love his accent. I’m