Page 8 of Dotted Lines (Runaway 5)

“What do you want me to bring you back from the restaurant?” she asked.

“Food.”

My answer was the same as always. Just like Aria’s answer on the days when she was stuck here and I went to work at a truck-stop diner. I washed dishes for six dollars an hour. It was below minimum wage but since the owner paid me in cash under the table and didn’t ask questions about why I hadn’t been in school all last year, it was worth the cut.

Staying off the grid was the only way we’d made this living arrangement work.

For sixty-one more days, Clara Saint-James was a ghost.

Then Aria and I would leave here and rejoin society with a real address and social security numbers and birth certificates—the documents tucked away beneath my bedroll in a plastic bag. We’d made sure to take them from our uncle before we’d run away.

Maybe when we got out of here, we’d actually get driver’s licenses. A credit card. A bank account.

“Any requests?” Aria asked. She worked as a dishwasher too at a greasy spoon about a thirty-minute walk from here. The owner of her restaurant had actually asked for an application.

Aria had listed me as her mother’s name, the junkyard as our address. Thankfully, they hadn’t tried to call the fake phone number she’d put on the application. Or if they had, they hadn’t asked why the call hadn’t gone through.

Like me, she was paid under the table, so why her boss had needed an application, I wasn’t sure. Whatever the reason, all that mattered was that we both worked in restaurants. The food was worth more than the hourly wage.

On the days we worked, neither of us had to worry about a meal. And normally, there’d be enough left in the kitchen for an extra sandwich or two to bring home.

“Ham and cheese,” I said. It was Karson’s favorite, not that I’d tell Aria that was the reason I always asked for it.

“’Kay. I’m out.” She stood at the mouth of the van, waiting.

I walked over and wrapped my arms around her.

The night our parents had died, I hadn’t wanted to give my mom or dad a hug good night. I’d been in the middle of a game of Fallout on my PlayStation. I’d gotten to level eight and the blocks had been falling so fast. My fingers had flown over the control. And when my parents had kissed me goodbye, when they’d told me to have fun and be good for our babysitter, I’d dismissed them with a grunt.

Hours later, on their way home, a drunk driver had crossed the center line and crashed into their car.

Ten-year-old me hadn’t understood that life was short. I’d been so worried about a stupid video game that I hadn’t hugged my parents goodbye.

I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Be careful.” I let Aria go and watched as she hopped out of the van.

When her shoes hit the dirt, she looked up at me and waved. “Bye. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

I didn’t like the days when we walked into town alone. Yes, we’d been doing it for nearly three years, but that didn’t mean it was safe. Until we were gone, until we left Temecula and turned eighteen, we would never be safe. Not until we had control over our own lives.

Aria didn’t head for the small gate in the junkyard fence that served as our own personal door. Instead, she rushed over to Lou’s shop, disappearing into the bathroom.

I stayed standing at the end of the van, waiting until she came out. Then with another wave, she disappeared through the rusted cars and stacks of metal parts.

I sighed, scanning my rust-colored world. Everything here was tinged orange-brown. Some of the old cars still had flecks of paint—teal or black or red. This van had once been white. But with every passing day, the colors disintegrated, little by little. Chip by chip. It was a losing battle against the wind and the sun and the rain and the dust.

The only bright, fresh color came from Aria’s plants. She’d been growing more and more this year, ever since the girls had left.

I think she missed Londyn and Gemma and Katherine more than I did. Not that I didn’t miss them. I did. I missed our friends. It was just . . . easier with them gone.

I didn’t have to work so hard to hide my crush on Karson.

Instead of masking it from five people, I only had to hide my true feelings from two—my sister and Karson himself.

Easy when I was here alone.