Chapter One
Michigan
"Would you please lend me one of your cars?" I ask nicely, my hand on the dealer's shoulder. He looks aggravated for a second, like he wondered why I had the audacity to lay a hand on his shoulder, then his face changes and a smile breaks across his lips.
"Of course miss, my cars are your cars." his voice sounds different than when he had almost kicked me out of the building just a minute ago.
I smile sweetly at him and rush to grab a random pair of keys off a bulletin board and out of the building. Im fortunate the keys have an alarm so when I press the button, the blaring sound of the car starts and I rush to it. When I get there, I'm a little winded, seeing as the car was a ways away from the entrance of the building. But I quickly recover and slip into the car, taking my backpack off and putting it into the passenger's seat.
I quickly speed the car out of the dealership lot-just in time too, the owner was coming out of whatever haze my touch had put him into-and into the street. I travel for quite some time before I pass a police cruiser, which obviously doesn't pay attention to my new car or my face. I am glad that the car had already been registered and had its license plate on it, or else I would probably be getting pulled over. I travel even further until I pass a state limits sign. Now entering Illinois it read. I smiled, one state closer to freedom, one state away from capture.
South Dakota
I started to get more excited when I saw the sign notifying me that I was driving into the state of South Dakota. My goal was to get to Washington in less than three days but it looked like I was gonna make it in two.
Montana
I stopped at a gas station, just to fill up before I got back on my drive. I went into the store to pay for the gas and to replenish my food supply. The bell jingled over the door as I opened it and I admit that it scared me a little. Maybe because the only sounds that had accompanied me over this period of time had been whatever classic rock song had been playing on the radio. The clerk looked up from his phone as I walked in, probably surprised at me being there, seeing as it was about three-four o'clock in the morning.
"Late night munchies." I said to him, a small smile ghosting over my lips.
He nodded, looking back to his phone. I turned, grabbing whatever snacks that seemed appealing to me, including an Oreo Brownie that had my name written all over it. I loved them, they were my favorite things in the world, nobody seemed to understand my love for them.
After I filled my arms up with snacks that I was sure wouldn't fit into the spinner circle thing at the cash register, I placed them all in there and watched as the man struggled to put everything in a bag. I smiled and walked to grab a 2-liter soda, realizing I needed something to wash all of my snacks down. I placed that in there too and he raised an eyebrow. The cost of everything I had put in there was about thirty seven dollars and sixty eight cents. I gave him fifty, the rest for gas. He placed the bags in the spinner circle thing and I grabbed them, walking briskly out of the station.
After quickly filling up my gas tank and placing the nozzle back where it was supposed to be, I sped off again. I needed to get to Washington if my life depended on it.
I realize now that I have yet to tell you readers my name. My parents were hippies so don't judge when I tell you. My name is Chrysanthemum Clearwater, better known as CeCe. I hated my name for a while, so I had decided to call myself CeCe and let it be known to the world that if anyone were to call me by my first name, they'd be publicly crucified. No doubt.
I hadn't stopped looking at the GPS since I got into the car. It let me know exactly where I needed to be by tomorrow.
Washington
By the time I passed the city limits from Montana into Spokane, I began to gradually calm down. I continue to drive, until I can see the sun raising under the gloomy sky. Then I decide to turn in for a few hours, turning the car off in the parking lot of a shady, Seattle Motel. I was proud of myself, making it all the way from Michigan to Washington in a span of two days. My goal was to get away, and that was what I did. Soon, I would be safe, and that was all I had been hoping for. Some place where nobody would judge me, where nobody would try to lock me up, or use their powers for their own advantage. I just wanted to be me, Cece Clearwater, an average teenager. Boy was I wrong.
