Track for this chapter:
Passing By, by Yiruma, from the album First Love
Keith Road lay beyond the shelter of the trees lining the asphalt, splashed with the golden light of early morning. The Beaumont Municipal Airport lay across the road and far off; he'd run so far, it seemed, but he was only a little ways away from where he'd left his old life behind.
There was a shallow river of water running along the edge of the trees; he sat here perched high up on one of the branches, looking down on the world.
The rest of Beaumont lay beyond the train tracks, a small town where you could disappear. Much smaller than Metal City.
He clambered down from the boughs of the tree and trotted towards the road, leaping the shallow river quickly and misjudging the length in his excitement; muddy water splashed his pants cuffs and his backpack jolted behind him.
He clambered up the shoulder of the road and stood facing the train tracks, a crossroad of sorts; browned grass lay around him and a pasture sat to his west.
Turning right at the crossroads, he continued on until he found himself at a high school, buzzing with life at a big Christmas party. Cars drove through the chilly air to rest in the parking lot, and his heart swelled within him; he had found a resting place, it seemed, a small town with close relationships and nobody here who knew him.
Tsubasa stepped in through the doors of a Dollar General, relishing in the warmth. He'd wandered aimlessly down the road, and this was the first place he'd come to with food. His internal clock told him it should be 10 pm, but it was 7 am here.
Breakfast, he reminded himself, not dinner; and he managed to swallow some of the doughnuts he'd bought before stowing the rest of the pack in his bag. He couldn't stomach something so breakfasty when his mind was telling him to go to bed.
Sitting on the edge of the curb, he remembered that he had nowhere to stay tonight.
The first order of business was to get a job; he about 2000 US dollars on him right now, taken from his savings, and the other half of his money remained behind, gathering interest. He didn't know how long 2000 dollars would get him by now.
1997.75, he reminded himself.
He stood and continued down Phelan Boulevard, wondering where the road would take him.
When at last his feet could carry him no longer, the fuel from the rush of freedom leaving him, he found himself on a street lined with well-designed houses in an old style. A general store sat on the left of the street, and he turned; surely it would be time to eat again.
He checked his watch, realising it was still set to Japan time. Midnight. It was 9 am. He had been walking for two hours.
He looked towards the general store, and wondered if they were hiring. He crossed the parking lot and went inside.
The door swung open easily, and the counter on the right faced the door at a steep angle. He met with chaos coming in.
Two voices from the back yelled loudly at one another.
"YOU HAVE A CORN DOG FOR A MIND, ETHAN."
"YOU HAVE HALF OF ONE!"
The girl at the counter turned around and yelled, "QUINN! ETHAN! WILL YOU BE QUIET!?"
"STAY OUTTA THIS, CINDY. NOW LISTEN HERE, ETHAN...YOU PUT KETCHUP IN THE NACHO SAUCE EVER AGAIN I WILL PERSONALLY FIRE YOU!"
"YA CAIN'T FIRE ME! YOU AIN'T THE BOSS!"
"WELL HADLEY LEFT ME IN CHARGE WHILE SHE'S GONE!"
The girl at the counter dodged a Styrofoam cup that came sailing through the open door to the kitchen.
"WATCH WHERE YA THROWIN' THOSE!"
Tsubasa realised he was hidden from sight by a large display of sunglasses, and considered waiting out the fight. The corn dogs smelled awfully good. Even though he knew it would mess with his jet lag even worse, he was willing to risk it.
Finally, when it seemed that the boys in the back would not be quieting down anytime soon, he stepped out from behind the rack and towards the counter.
A girl leaned on the pseudo-marble countertop, reading a book. Curls the colour of orange juice hung around her shoulders, and her freckled face seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it.
She looked up as he approached.
"Oh, hey, stranger. I din't hear you come in. Cause them IDIOTS IN TA BACK IS BICK'RIN' LIKE A BUNCHA CATS!" she said, raising her voice purposefully so the boys would hear her.
The way she said 'din't' nagged at his mind, but he shoved the thought away, too hungry to think. "Hi, uh...Cindy", he said, sneaking a glance at the nametag on her collar. "Do you sell corn dogs here?"
Cindy looked surprised.
"Bit early fer lunch. Don't you think?"
"I have really, really bad jet lag."
"Ooooh, ya fly in from Alaska or somethin'?"
"Japan. Metal City. About 50 miles outside Tokyo."
"Oh yeah, Japan's cap'tal Beyblade city. Don't know many folks what'd fly ta Beaumont for Christmas, though."
"I...missed my plane. Are there any corn dogs?" he asked again.
"Sure, man. ETHAN!"
"AH TOLD YOU TA STAY OUTTA THIS!"
"YOU SCARIN' OFF TA CUSTOMERS. GIT ME TWO CORN DOGS. AN' NO NACHO CHEESE." Turning back to Tsubasa, Cindy said, "Ah reckon you ain't as bigga fan of ketchup and cheese as Ethan seems ta be."
"I've had worse."
Cindy chuckled. "Cain't imagine much worse'n Ethan's idea of cookin'."
One of the boys stormed out of the kitchen, covered in orange soda. He was Quinn, according to his nametag. "Cain't imagine much worse'n bein' open on Christmas", he snarled. "Oughta be up't the high school wit' the rest o' the kids."
"Ya heard what Hadley said. We open all year round cos we don't get 'nough business anyhow."
Quinn shoved a paper bag at her and stormed back towards the kitchen, only to be pelted with corn chips.
"WHY YOU - !" He broke into a run and nearly fell on his face on the tile.
Cindy turned back to Tsubasa. "My 'pologies in advance fer ta first time they ruin yer life. BUT, the second time, you on yer own." She handed him the corn dogs and turned back to her book.
He seated himself at one of the small tables near the window, a sticky ring from a cup long past residing on the corner, but he was too hungry to care. He devoured the hot corn dogs almost without noticing how his mouth was getting burnt, and finally remembered why he was here.
He was starting his first day of freedom with corn dogs?
He took out the book Andre and Les had gifted him with, and opened it.
Responsibility is the price of freedom.
-Elbert Hubbard
He stood and headed back to the counter, giving Cindy a wavering smile.
"Are you hiring for any positions?...any at all?"
"Hey, sorry, bud. We're all filled."
Suddenly Quinn stormed out of the kitchen.
"AH QUIT, CINDY. YOU DEAL WIT' ETHAN ON YER OWN NOW."
"Hey, hold on! Ya gotta clear it wit' Hadley 'fore ya quit!"
"IT'S YOUR PROBLEM NOW." Quinn threw his nametag down on the counter. "Ah'll return ta shirt later. Seeya at school." Quinn stormed out the door.
Cindy turned back to him with a nervous smile. "Eh, hehehe...spot jus' opened up."
"I'll take it."
"Min'mum wage. 7.50 an hour." Cindy grabbed an employee's shirt from beneath the counter and handed it to him. "Git changed 'fore Hadley comes in here. Maybe you'll pass fer Quinn."
Giving him another once-over, she shook her head. "Nevermind. Tat'd never happen."
Before heading to the restrooms to put on the shirt, he squinted at her. "I swear you look familiar."
"Buddy, ah never seen you 'fore in mah life. Don't know where you'd recognize me from." Cindy shooed him on. "Git."
As he stepped out of the restroom, tugging at the hem of the shirt - a size too large - Cindy turned back to him. Something about the way the light glinted off the counter, like sunlight off of fallen snow, and hit her face, reminded him of someone.
It popped into his mind suddenly.
Andre.
"Say, Cindy", he said, striding towards her, "You wouldn't happen to know anybody by the name of Andre Romero, would you?"
"Ah, so ya met my cousin. Ah tell ya, our fam'ly tends ta go inta the fast food business...Yah, I know Andre. You been to The Scenery?"
"Yes. I met your grandfather, too. Les."
"Got somethin' loose in tat head o' his. WHOA, git in the kitchen, buddy! Pretend ta be doin' something...productive. Hadley's headin' up the parkin' lot!"
Ethan squealed from the back and scuttled madly around, trying to clean up the mess of empty containers littering the kitchen floor. Tsubasa hid behind the pretzel machine and hoped for the best.