Walk Me Home Read Online Free PDF Page B

once.”
    Truth is, Carly needs this moment, too. Even sixteen-year-old grown-ups sometimes need a celebration. Especially when times have been hard.
    She takes out her little book and stands, examining the machine until she finds a shiny silver label. It says this machine is serviced by Harmony Vending, 21900 Navajo Boulevard, Holbrook, AZ 86025.
    She copies down the address.
    “Are all five of those things seventy-five cents?”
    “Yup,” Jen says.
    She pauses. Doesn’t write anything for a minute.
    “Three dollars and seventy-five cents,” Jen says.
    “I knew that,” Carly says.
    It’s half true. She
would
have known that. Given a little more time.
    “I also found one other thing,” Carly says. “There was a first-aid kit back there. And I opened it up and took out two big adhesive bandages. You know. In case I get blisters from these new boots. Just in case. My heels are feeling a little rubbed.”
    “OK,” Jen says.
    “Are
your
feet OK?”
    “The best. These cross-trainers are the bomb.”
    “Good. So…”
    “So…what?”
    “So, should I put that in the book?”
    “Hmm,” Jen says. Her mouth is full of black licorice. “We don’t know what they would cost.”
    “I was just thinking, if the guy were here and I said I had blisters, he’d probably give them to me. I mean, I think they’re to hand out. Not to sell.”
    “I guess.”
    “So you think it’s OK?”
    “Probably. Yeah.”
    “You don’t think it’s sort of…breaking a promise to ourselves? Like our honesty system is breaking down some?”
    Jen chews in silence for a moment, her eyes closed.
    Then she says, “Maybe a little bit. But I don’t think it’s a very big deal.”
    Carly nods a few times. Then she looks down at the wire hanger and carefully bends it back into wire hanger shape. It looks a little worse for wear. But she hangs it back up on the pole in the back office. It’ll still hold coats, which is the main thing. And then only the adhesive bandages are a little over the line.
    Carly calls Teddy’s cell phone number from the pay phone while Jen washes up in the ladies’ room, an odd bathing system with paper towels, liquid hand soap, and water. Jen always seems to find a way to be gone while Carly calls.
    She braces herself for the recorded announcement of how much is left on the prepaid calling card she bought herself on that miserable Christmas in New Mexico with her mom and Wade. She doesn’t really want to know. She knows it can’t be much. She shouldn’t be leaving messages every time. She’s been running it down too fast.
    It’s just around two minutes. It’s running out.
    It rings. And rings. And rings. The way it used to when Teddy was out of minutes on his cell phone. Then Carly hears a click, like Teddy picking up the phone.
    “Teddy? Teddy, is that you?”
    Silence.
    “Teddy?”
    It’s a recorded message. A woman with a robotic, irritating voice. She says, “I’m sorry. The cellular number you have reached is not in service at this time, and there is no new number.”
    Carly hangs up fast. In case the woman was planning on saying more.
    Jen is all dressed again in her clean shirt when Carly gets back into the ladies’ room. She’s washing out her socks and underwear in one sink. She looks up, apparently startled by what she sees in Carly’s face.
    “What’s the matter?” Jen asks.
    “Nothing. He just wasn’t there.”
    Carly leans over the other sink and drinks her fill of cold water.
    “You look like something’s wrong.”
    “No, everything’s fine,” she says, then dries her face on her sleeve. “We’ll just try him again. He must be working a second job or something. I’m sure he’s in his own place by now. And I just bet he has to work a lot.”
    She’s hoping Jen won’t ask why working two jobs would prevent him from answering the cell phone in his pocket.
    “Maybe he’s out of minutes. And can’t afford more.”
    “Yeah! Maybe.”
    “What would we do