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Authors: Joelle Anthony
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believe I hadn’t realized this the moment it stopped working. I’d been so focused on all my other problems, though, and I’d actually thought the phone was dying because it was ancient; I’d had it for over a year. But still, how stupid could I be? He’d kicked me out. Of course he’d cancel my phone. Before I could ask about maybe getting a new plan, she had turned her attention back to her call and walked off.
“Ummm, hello? Salesgirl with the phone attached to your ear?” I said extra loudly. Everyone in the store turned to look, and a few people snickered. “I’m not exactly done here? Could you hang up and give me some customer service?”
The girl stared at me, her eyes wide again. “Ummm…I gotta go,” she said to her friend. She stepped back to the counter like I might slap her if she got too close. “How may I help you?” she asked formally.
“You could give me a little more information,” I said. “What do you mean, my account’s canceled? Like closed, or like he forgot to pay the bill?” I asked, even though I already knew.
“It appears your phone line was removed from the account by Mr.Cross earlier today,” she said stiffly. “Perhaps you would like to open a new one? I need to see a driver’s license and credit card.”
“I don’t have a credit card,” I said.
“We have some prepay options as well,” she continued, as if she were reading out of an employee manual.
Suddenly it was too much. It was like my dad kept pecking away at me, making things worse and worse. Why couldn’t he have let me have this one thing? He knew I couldn’t afford a phone. I grabbed my purse off the counter and wove through the half dozen people who were crowded into the store, waiting.
“God, what a bitch,” I heard someone say.
“It’s called customer service,” I yelled over my shoulder, but I kept going without looking back. I had to talk to my dad. And not just about the stupid phone, but about everything.
chapter 8
BY THE TIME I FOUGHT MY WAY THROUGH THE RAINY Friday night rush hour traffic, my determination to face Dad had weakened. I must’ve circled the neighborhood for half an hour trying to work up my nerve before I finally turned down our street and parked across from the house, but I left the engine idling and the windshield wipers whooshed back and forth, brushing away the rain.
The driveway was empty, but light leaked out of the living room into the yard, and after a few minutes, I saw my dad’s shadow pass behind the drapes. I killed the engine and started to get out, but then a second, smaller silhouette joined him and my body tensed. If only there was some way to get him alone.
I sat there for a long time, but after a while I knew I’d never go up to the door with Mira inside, so I drove around for an hour. When I passed the bright lights of a Mobil station, I realized how stupid I’d been. The Beast sucked down gasoline like Josh gulping Gatorade after a game. I only had thirteen hundred seventy-two dollars in my savings account, which wouldn’t last very long. Even with Josh’s sixty bucks, I couldn’t drive around randomly ever again. At least not untilI got a job, which was next on my list, right after finding a place to live.
Normally, I would’ve gone to Coffee Espress-O, but I was afraid I’d run into too many people I knew, so I drove over to a little café called the Coffee Klatch that my dad and I had discovered last summer on a dusky evening bike ride. It was in kind of a paradoxical area of town where the houses had all been redone, the lawns were trim, and kids played hopscotch on the sidewalks, but you could also hear the constant traffic on Sandy Boulevard just a few blocks away. The busy, wide street cut across Portland on an angle, and along this stretch, it was lined with dicey hotels, fast-food places, and taverns. The café was on the ground floor of an old brick building that sat right in the middle of a residential neighborhood.
I made my
“Ummm, hello? Salesgirl with the phone attached to your ear?” I said extra loudly. Everyone in the store turned to look, and a few people snickered. “I’m not exactly done here? Could you hang up and give me some customer service?”
The girl stared at me, her eyes wide again. “Ummm…I gotta go,” she said to her friend. She stepped back to the counter like I might slap her if she got too close. “How may I help you?” she asked formally.
“You could give me a little more information,” I said. “What do you mean, my account’s canceled? Like closed, or like he forgot to pay the bill?” I asked, even though I already knew.
“It appears your phone line was removed from the account by Mr.Cross earlier today,” she said stiffly. “Perhaps you would like to open a new one? I need to see a driver’s license and credit card.”
“I don’t have a credit card,” I said.
“We have some prepay options as well,” she continued, as if she were reading out of an employee manual.
Suddenly it was too much. It was like my dad kept pecking away at me, making things worse and worse. Why couldn’t he have let me have this one thing? He knew I couldn’t afford a phone. I grabbed my purse off the counter and wove through the half dozen people who were crowded into the store, waiting.
“God, what a bitch,” I heard someone say.
“It’s called customer service,” I yelled over my shoulder, but I kept going without looking back. I had to talk to my dad. And not just about the stupid phone, but about everything.
chapter 8
BY THE TIME I FOUGHT MY WAY THROUGH THE RAINY Friday night rush hour traffic, my determination to face Dad had weakened. I must’ve circled the neighborhood for half an hour trying to work up my nerve before I finally turned down our street and parked across from the house, but I left the engine idling and the windshield wipers whooshed back and forth, brushing away the rain.
The driveway was empty, but light leaked out of the living room into the yard, and after a few minutes, I saw my dad’s shadow pass behind the drapes. I killed the engine and started to get out, but then a second, smaller silhouette joined him and my body tensed. If only there was some way to get him alone.
I sat there for a long time, but after a while I knew I’d never go up to the door with Mira inside, so I drove around for an hour. When I passed the bright lights of a Mobil station, I realized how stupid I’d been. The Beast sucked down gasoline like Josh gulping Gatorade after a game. I only had thirteen hundred seventy-two dollars in my savings account, which wouldn’t last very long. Even with Josh’s sixty bucks, I couldn’t drive around randomly ever again. At least not untilI got a job, which was next on my list, right after finding a place to live.
Normally, I would’ve gone to Coffee Espress-O, but I was afraid I’d run into too many people I knew, so I drove over to a little café called the Coffee Klatch that my dad and I had discovered last summer on a dusky evening bike ride. It was in kind of a paradoxical area of town where the houses had all been redone, the lawns were trim, and kids played hopscotch on the sidewalks, but you could also hear the constant traffic on Sandy Boulevard just a few blocks away. The busy, wide street cut across Portland on an angle, and along this stretch, it was lined with dicey hotels, fast-food places, and taverns. The café was on the ground floor of an old brick building that sat right in the middle of a residential neighborhood.
I made my
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