“Then tell me.”
“This isn’t the place.”
“You had 14 years to find one.”
He looked around at the neighbors.
For the first time since he arrived, he seemed embarrassed.
Good.
Then he tried the keys again.
“Take the car, Jake.”
I looked at them.
I had wanted a car. Of course I had.
I’d pictured driving to school instead of standing at the bus stop in the rain.
I’d pictured picking up my friends.
I’d pictured freedom.
And the car looked incredible. Black paint shining in the sunlight. Brand-new interior. Not someone else’s old hand-me-down, but the kind of car I’d never even allowed myself to imagine having.
For a moment, I wanted those keys badly.
But then all I could see was Ray in old work boots.
Ray eating packed lunches.
Ray putting off repairs on the truck he needed to get to work.
