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were red and puffy. She was still so beautiful though.
    “I thought you bailed,” I admitted, not wanting to lie to her. She looked affronted, and then sighed.
    “Sorry, I got hung up,” she explained. I truly wasn’t upset with her.
    “What’s with the suitcase?” I asked, not wanting to get my hopes up. We started walking together. She looked thoughtful for a moment before she gave me an answer.
    “My mom and I have decided it’s best if I stay at my aunt’s for a little while,” she told me. I wasn’t sure that I understood.
    The bus station was mostly run down. It sat on a large field that became the fairgrounds during half the weekends of the summer. Aside from us, there were a couple people already there; I could tell she wasn’t interested in talking while being that close to them. Maybe it was just that she didn’t want them seeing her talking to me.… I didn’t give that much thought. It wasn’t as alluring an idea as her running off with me had been.
    The bus arrived quickly, and we sat at the back together, murmuring between the two of us.
    “I don’t understand why you’re running off to your aunt’s to be honest,” I admitted, asking for more information. I didn’t think I deserved it, but I wanted it. She looked troubled.
    “My mom said that when my dad wakes up he’s going to be furious, and he’ll need more time to cope,” Brooklyn explained, shifting in her seat. “I mean she isn’t wrong, he gets pissed if someone doesn’t check to make sure the door is locked every time we come inside,” she said, smiling awkwardly.
    “I guess I could see that,” I said, although I didn’t completely get it. She just up and left her mom alone with him. I guess I didn’t blame her, she’d seen enough crap in the last afternoon. I watched her, distracting herself with the tag on her backpack, until my head started getting heavy and I needed to lean against the window for a break. I’d been awake for far too long and I wasn’t doing a good job of coping with it.

7
    Brooklyn
    T he bus shook madly , like a clothes dryer with a brick in it, as it carried us through the dark summer night. Cities and towns slipped past us, unaware of what I’d seen, unaware of what we’d done. A slow, dull, migraine was starting behind my ears and creeping up through my head. I distracted myself by focusing on Adam’s bag in front of me.
    It was gray and faded military green, aside from a strip that looked newer than the rest it was pretty scuffed up, like someone had ripped a patch off of it. I guessed it was a name patch, but it could have been anything. It didn’t look like he had packed much, not more than a couple outfits and maybe some shoes from the size of it. My head hummed in the dull ache, and brought forward a thought I hadn’t given time yet.
    “Why were you there?” I murmured, sitting back and looking over at him. He’d been leaning his head against the window beside him, his breath forming clouds on the glass.
    “Hm?” he asked, turning to me. He looked pretty damn tired.
    “How did you know what was going on? I mean, don’t get me wrong,” I added, “I’m glad you were there. But why were you there?” I asked, watching his face carefully. I’d only seen him in school a couple times, I wasn’t even entirely sure of his name at that point. He looked troubled at my question, staring down at his hands in his lap for a moment.
    “I sometimes just stop by to see if you’re okay,” he said, looking guilty.
    “That’s stupid,” I said on instinct. I caught myself, hearing my mother's voice in my own, knowing it wasn’t right to say. “I’m not upset at you for it, but why? We’ve never even talked before. I don’t even know your name.” I didn’t understand. He looked put off, but understanding.
    “I’m Adam Peterson,” he said, in what might have been the most delayed introduction in all time. “I saw a bruise on your arm before,” he explained, shaking his head