One Week Read Online Free Page A

it out for my damn self by then.
    I push myself off the wall and march back to the bus station, shaking my head and muttering at my stupidity, the Geek’s stupidity, and the stupidity of the population of Santa Barbara, just on principle. When I get back, it seems like the line has somehow grown longer, if such a thing were possible. I shift back and forth on my heels, and try to imagine myself someplace else. Like a massage table.
    When I finally get up to the teller and ask her if she could please tell me what bus I take to get to whatever train it is I take to get to Chicago to get to New York, she looks at me with disbelief.
     “Do you see that there are fifty people behind you?” she asks. “Tell me what ticket you want and I’ll sell it to you.”
    “I don’t need a ticket,” I explain. “I already have a rail pass, I’m just not quite sure how to use it.”
    She rolls her eyes. “Do I look like a route planner to you, ma’am? There are maps over there at the kiosk. Next!”
    Ma’am? “The maps are all gone. Could you please just tell me how to get to New York? I’m sure it sounds insane—you can’t possibly only get to New York by taking a bus—but that’s what somebody—some idiot—told me and I really don’t know where to go, so can you please help me? Please?” I feel a blush rising as I babble, but really, I’m desperate. And I’ve waited in this line for a long time. I’m not going to just walk away, I’ll beg if I have to.
    The teller really looks at me for the first time and sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t take the trains, I just sell the tickets. This is a small station. Trains are being rerouted from Ventura so we’re unusually overloaded today. There’s a station attendant who could help you, but he’s off sick today. I wish I could tell you how to get where you’re going, but I really have no idea.”
    My heart sinks. “Okay,” I say. “Sorry. Thanks for your help.”
    I turn to go, and she calls “Next!” I’m sure the next person knows where they’re going. I check my phone. It seems I waited in that line for half an hour. I suppose it’s possible that there’s still time before the bus leaves. I didn’t see the Geek come back, and I had a pretty good line of sight on the door.
    I wish I could think of any other way.
    I walk back to the bar, wincing with every step, determined to haul the Geek out onto the street and beat him until he coughs up the route. But when I’m half a block away I see him walk out of the bar and shield his eyes from the streetlight.
    And then he trips over his own feet and falls down.
    I watch as he tries to get up, and falls back down again. It would be funny, except for how I’m hungry, I’m tired, and if it’s time to get on the bus—and it had damn well better be, because anything would be better than this—then I’d like the dumbass that fate has made me dependent on to get me on that stupid freaking bus so this ridiculous and humiliating experience can be over with.
    “All right, Geek, on your feet,” I say as I haul at his shoulders—I’m tempted to use his hair, but you never know, it might be so burned by cheap hair dye that I’d just pull it out. “Let’s go, we have a bus to catch.”
    He peers blearily up at me. “Barbie? What the hell you still doing here?”
    I pull harder, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my empty stomach. “Up,” I say firmly. “Bus. Now.”
    He gets up and leans against me unsteadily as he looks down at his watch. “No. No, no, no, Barbie. No bus now,” he slurs. “Bus long gone. No bus for Barbie.”
    I shove him off me and he falls down again, giggling to himself. I take him by the shoulders again and shake him. “Are you still going to New York? When is the next bus?” I want to shake him harder, but I’m afraid he’ll puke on me.
    “No place else to go but New York,” he shrugs. “Tomorrow morning. Bus tomorrow morning.”
    I want to scream. Tomorrow morning? What the