Don't Try to Find Me: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

She’s probably totally confused by this whole thing, how I could ever leave, and that doesn’t make me feel bad for her. It pisses me off more.
    Speaking of piss, I kind of have to go. But I’m doing my best to hold it until the next station. Last time I went into the bus bathroom, it was vaporous and chemical, like something had recently been burning. It definitely wasn’t cigarettes. It freaked me out, and I tried not to breathe in. I didn’t know if it was meth or heroin or what.
    I’ve always been kind of scared of meth, the way it supposedly makes people twitchy and enraged. I wonder if someone on the bus might lose it and turn violent, and our only security is a bus driver saying, “Don’t make me pull over!”
    But there’s no point in thinking about that. I’ll think about how Kyle started kissing me, instead. Or maybe I was the one who started it, in that girl way—you know, cocking your head at an angle that basically screams, “You can do it now!” I’ve never been the first to kiss anyone. I just send out signals that no one could miss. It’s safer that way.
    The thing is, I never send signals to anyone I really like, because I’m pretty sure they’d reject me, like Wyatt did. Trish said that I was so obvious about being into him that no one could miss it, which meant that he couldn’t miss it, and he had a million chances to kiss me and never did. My face gets all hot thinking about it, even now, and it was a long time ago, like a year and a half.
    I’ve kissed some people, but no one I was really into. They were leftover guys. The best ones go for Trish first, of course, and they usually want to be her boyfriend, not just a hookup. Then usually the next tier of guys goes for Sasha. I’ve got better hair than Sasha; hers can get frizzy. But she’s a size 1.
    When I get off this bus, when I walk into my new life, I’m nobody’s leftovers. It’s going to be perfect.
    Kyle isn’t as good at maintaining his cover as I am. I’ve figuredout that the less you say about yourself, the fewer actual lies you tell, the better. It’s less to keep track of. But Kyle, he can’t seem to shut up. (Except for when we’re kissing, and even then, he’s doing this soft moaning thing that makes me self-conscious. Sure, it’s dark out, but we’re on a bus, with people all around us!) So I’m starting to piece his real story together, the one that bleeds out into the cracks while he’s spinning these tales about college life.
    I think he really has been going to college up north in Arcata, like he said. He just knows too many details about life there. One of the lesser California state schools is in Arcata. Humbug State, something like that? (Dad would kill himself if that was where I wound up.) It’s hard to imagine someone moving all the way from Chicago for a school that’s not known for anything in particular. So my theory is that Kyle is actually from California, and he’s going to Chicago to run away from something or someone. Or maybe I see liars and runaways everywhere because I am one. No, I’m a girl who just had her eighteenth birthday. I’m emancipated.
    Kyle was a pretty good kisser, but when he tried to slide his hand down my pants, I stopped him. It wasn’t only that I felt gross and dirty, with the whole not-showering thing, but also that I didn’t want him to make me feel too good. It’s embarrassing. Besides, I’m probably not supposed to be doing this. All the rules haven’t been established yet, but it might be cheating.
    Kyle put his hand on my chest instead. He murmured in my ear, in this way that’s supposed to be sexy, that’s supposed to mean he’s soooo into me. “Vicky,” he breathed. For a nanosecond, I felt offended. Why’s he thinking of Vicky when he’s touching my tits? And then I thought, That’s me, at least until I think of something better, something that fits. It’s a lot of responsibility, reinventing yourself.

Day 3
    IT’S A LITTLE PAST