Funny, you'd think I'd be used to it by now. I thought dryly, walking down an unknown street, trying to look as normal as I possibly could. You'd think that after almost a year, seeing those men come and force us from our new 'home' wouldn't come as such of a shock. By now, we should be like, 'Oh look, they found us again. Crap. Well, let's sce-daddle outta here'.
But actually, it's more along the lines of, 'Oh [enter swear word of choice]! MOVE MOVE MOVE! GOD DANG THESE DUCKING GRASSHOLES!'
With some alterations, of course.
I silently tried to count how many times this had happened to us. Six? Seven, maybe? We settled into a town for a couple months and then they came, trying to take us back to our own personal Hell. As I thought about it, it made sense that seeing them still scared the bejeevers out of me.
Running for your life just never gets old.
I looked back to check on the boys, to see how they were taking the bad news. Mel looked emotionless, hands shoved deep into his sweatshirt pockets, keeping good pace. His glasses kept slipping closer and closer to the end of his nose but he didn't seem to notice.
Vehn was looking here and there and-yup, you guessed it-everywhere, no doubt soaking in our new surroundings. We had passed four other towns from the one we got so rudely shooed out of [so to speak], so according to our rules this one would be our new temporary home. It was nice enough; sort of big but not huge, kinda rural. Cold. Vehn seemed to like it because he was grinning like a maniac, but that could've been because he usually grins like that anyway.
What can I say; the boy's chipper.
Oc looked depressed, slumped over and looking like a straight-up hooligan [and yes, I just said hooligan]. Ever since he was a little kid, Oc's been over emotional. He cries, like, three times a week. If he ever became a super hero somehow, we all agreed that Oc would become the Emotionator; though I must admit I have no idea what being emotional could serve in the hero department.
He walked with his head turned toward the street, arms crossed in that 'cool' way of his, dragging behind.
And last, I looked down at Det, who was holding my hand and taking two steps to keep up with mine. Being barely eight, he was the youngest in our merry crew and by far the shortest, only 3 9". Maybe it was the fact that I was over six feet, but Det was just so shrimpy to me. He looked tired, usually needing eleven hours of sleep but only getting about six the past nights. He looked up at me and smiled his trademark smile, his dark eyes gleaming with unadulterated trust, making my heart swell. Not to sound corny or anything, but Det was the cutest kid in the world.
Yes, the cutest.
I have documents to prove it.
I'd been taking care of him since he was three, and was like my son sort of, but
also my best friend and little brother. I loved the other boys too, but not like I how I loved Det. I was crazy about him.
Come to think of it, Det wasn't the only one that looked tired. All the boys were walking in an awkward and lurchy way, but that also could've been because they were teenagers in general.
Frankly, I wasn't sure.
"Ase?" Oc asked hesitantly, and I thought Oh, crap. He was using his voice; his whiny, persuading, obnoxious voice.
Which could only mean one thing, folks.
He wanted something.
"What?" I asked back, not slowing my pace whatsoever.
"There's a diner over there…I dunno, it looks like it's open…can we stop, just real quick?"
My stomach growled at his words, which severally annoyed me because it made his suggestion seem somewhat likely to happen.
We had about forty bucks left in my backpack, and I wasn't going to spend it unless our lives depended on it [and in our lives, sadly, that wasn't a figure of speech]. We could've played a lil' game on Dine 'N' Dash, but since I didn't want Det or any of the others picking up bad habits, decided it was out of the question.
On the other hand, we hadn't eaten anything in the past couple days besides the few snacks we had with us, and the sound of a real meal left me salivating. The boys' eyes were alight and they looked as if they would start squealing like a pig and jumping for joy, two things, I assure you, they never, ever do; or at least, not in front of me.
I hated to crush their happiness. In fact, I despised it. The boys held massive grudges, and something as simple as telling them we couldn't stop to eat would cause them to do nothing but shoot off death glares and snarl at me for a couple days.
They were like dragons…sorta.
I was about to speak when we past something so glorious, so wonderfully magnificent that I literally gave a yelp of joy.
THE CONVENIENCE STORE.
If I was suddenly put in a position where I had to choose the last building on Earth, all the others to be destroyed with a, I dunno, big-ass ray gun, I would pick a convenience store of some sort, in a heart-beat.
I love them.
I couldn't live without them.
I think I might have a convenience store fetish.
They're so cool, ya know? They have a bathroom, tons o' fun foods, usually gas, which sort of goes along with the bathroom [ZING, lame joke], little stupid toys, band aids, sunglasses, tons of other crap…and everything's dirt cheap.
Am I tough? Hard-core? Able to defeat any problem that comes in my way with amazing strength, mentally and physically?
Of course.
Did I vibrate with pathetic joy and make strange, giddy noises because I something as common as a gas station?
Absolutely.
"Well, there's your dinner right there!" I exclaimed, already striding towards the building.
"Aw come on!" Vehn whined. "I'd never thought I'd say this, but I'm sick of snack food!"
Oc looked like he was about to whine too, and I had a feeling that if they put their heads together they could come up with quite a chorus.
I shrugged.
"To bad. I'm the leader, and we don't have a hellova lot of money. What I say goes."
This was followed by groans, sighs, mutters, and random profanities that my editor says I'm not allowed to type up.
But thankfully, no one argued.
Which was a pleasant first.
