Ryan brushed a sheaf of hair from his eyes.  He needed a haircut.  Should have had The Finger do it before he took off.  Fing.  Melanie.  For some reason, the name Melanie, he pictured a bubbly six year old, some mom's pride and joy.  Not The Finger, with her straight, flouncy hair and dazed look.  The Finger never told him how she ended up at the park.  He really didn't want to know.  None of them ever really talked about why they were there.  None of them really wanted to talk about it.

            He eyed the passing cars.  He couldn't be too choosy.  Getting from here to Austin, no telling how long it would take.  And he'd better get cracking on it if he only had seventeen dollars and thirty-eight cents to keep him from starving before he got a job.  Hesitantly, he stuck his thumb out, trying not to look too threatening, which was difficult with him standing all funny because of his knee.

            A car full of girls noticed him first, and he saw them giggling as they passed.  Laughing at him?  Flirting?  Flirting would do them no good unless they actually picked him up, which he wasn't necessarily opposed to, but they were already long gone.

            He made eye contact with another woman a moment later, her car full of kids.  She looked… sorry for him, but he got it.  You don't take a hitchhiker when you have the kids in the car.  She had no way of knowing what he'd do.

            He knew that.  Still didn't take the sting away.

            He lowered his arm for a moment.  This could take awhile.

            It was then that the truck pulled over to the shoulder.  He leapt back instinctively, shifting his weight, mostly on to his good knee, as the truck lumbered towards him.

            He peered at the guy in the driver's seat.  Big, disheveled, a little creepy, but definitely willing.  And that was worth something.

            "Where to?"
            "On the way to Austin?"  His voice cracked a little.  Nerves.
            "Texas?" the guy asked.  "Yeah.  Get in."
            Ryan started to open the door, then stopped.  He looked at the guy again.  Something in the man's smile made him somehow uneasy.

            "You gonna get in or not, kid?" the guy asked impatiently.

            Ryan fingered the door handle, then made a quick, impulsive decision.  He opened it, easing himself and his backpack into the car.

            "There ya go," the guy said, and Ryan caught his breath.  "So, I can get you to Santa Ana."
            "Great, that's – that'll do."  He licked his lips as he settled on the seat.

            He fastened the seatbelt, still clutching his bag tightly.  When the truck didn't move, he looked over at the guy, his senses still on high alert.

            The guy was looking at him expectantly.  Leering…?  Expecting what exactly?  Ryan's hand hesitated over the seatbelt.

            "You know what, never mind," he muttered in a rush, releasing the catch.  He inched out from under the seatbelt and lurched for the door handle.

            "Hey!"

            Ryan froze.

            "Whatsa matter?"
            Ryan fumbled for the words.  His fingers tightened around the straps of his bag.  "I… I changed my mind is all…"  He saw it, he saw the flash of danger that validated his instincts, as he jumped into action again, throwing the door open, as the man grabbed for him, hands clutching, jowls jiggling, smile turning sinister…

            "C'mere, ya little…"
            The truck was already moving somehow, and his good knee hit the ground first, his bag tumbling down on top of him as he leapt from the cab.  Ryan scrambled to his feet quickly, on highest alert, and took off for the trees, moving as fast as he could.

            He tore forward several feet into the brush before even daring to stop to catch his breath.  When he did, he noted with relief that the truck had at least taken off without him.  The guy gave up.

            Nevertheless, he sat down where he was, secluded from the highway.

            After that?  It was time for a break.

*

"I roll the window down," Seth sang along softly.  "and then begin to breathe in…"  His head swayed a little with the music.  His fingers tapped on the wheel.  Solitude was nice.  Usually.  It'd be better to have someone with him.  Summer, for example, though she'd never in her life be caught dead going to a Comic Con.  Anna, maybe.  He smiled as he tapped his fingers listlessly. 

            "The darkest country road… " 

            Being alone was okay.

            "And the strong scent of evergreen, from the passenger seat, as you are driving me home…" 

            He drove right past him the first time.  The kid in the gray jacket, straggling along the road, black coat in one hand, red bookbag in the other.

            He drove right past, but the odd synchrony of it struck him somehow.  Here he was, wanting company.  Here the kid was, clearly in need of some himself, limping a bit, and as his dad never failed to remind him, other kids weren't as lucky as he was.  About time he helped someone out.

            And so he turned the car around.

*

            Ryan backed up slowly.  He'd seen the Range Rover pass him, then circle around, making a U-turn a little ways up before it rolled up beside him.  He approached it apprehensively.

            The passenger side window scrolled down automatically, revealing nothing but a skinny kid in a designer vintage t-shirt.  Slow piano music, odd little rock vocal, nothing too offensive.  So far, so-

            "Hey," the kid said, before Ryan could get it out himself.

            Ryan squinted at him.  "Hey?"
            "Need a ride?"
            Ryan surveyed the situation.  Looked like the kid had money, so hopefully he wouldn't want Ryan's.  And he could take him in a fight if he absolutely had to, the kid had a few upper arm muscles, but Ryan definitely had the build advantage.  And the sun would be setting soon, and he was too far to get back to the park and Dave and The Finger and the warped bike even if he wanted to go backward instead of forward.

            And so he shrugged.

            He clambered into the passenger seat and pulled the door behind him, breathing a small sigh or relief when the kid pulled the car off the shoulder, back into traffic.

            "Where you goin', you okay?"

            Ryan blinked.  Was that one question or two…?  "Texas.  Fine.  Where are you headed?"
            "San Diego, Comic Con…"  Off Ryan's surprised look, he pressed on.  "It's gonna be cool this year, Hugh Jackman is gonna be there, and Matt Groenig, and Neil…"  Ryan continued to stare at him blankly, and the kid trailed off.  "You know, Matt Groenig, The Simpsons?"

            "Sounds like… fun?" Ryan said, slightly meaning it.

            "You into comic books?"
            He shrugged again, shuffling his feet to avoid kicking the cooler parked on the floor.  "I mean, not really."
            "I got some in that box in the backseat if you get bored."
            Ryan glanced from the box to the kid's face, then down again.  "Thanks."
            "Great way to pass the time."
            "Yeah."
            "So, uh, what are you going to Texas for?"
            "I got family there… sort of."  He didn't want to elaborate, and the kid didn't make him.

            "I got food, too, if you're hungry.  In the cooler there.  I bought it myself.  I mean – uh, yeah."  He had started to say something else, but stopped himself.

            Ryan glanced at the bright orange cooler at his feet.  The kid didn't look like the type to poison anything.  And if he was, he had a heck of a good game plan and Ryan had to give him credit for it.  Might as well get mass murdered if the murderer was this smart.  There were plenty worse fates.  Maybe he'd even be famous for it.  "You don't mind?  I actually-"

            "No, no, go ahead," the kid urged him.

            There was a time for pride and a time to suck it up.  Ryan reached for the cooler and pried the lid off.

            It was like a convenience store had exploded.  Coke, Mountain Dew, bottled water, granola bars, gum, goldfish crackers, Ritz crackers, miniature candy bars.  Ryan pulled out a granola bar, a handful of crackers and a Mountain Dew before closing the lid.  Jackpot.  The seventeen thirty-eight was safe in his wallet for a few more hours.

            "Thanks," he said before tossing the first cracker into his mouth.

            "No problem.  I'm not gonna eat all that myself, or I hope not.  It's my mom," he said apologetically, "she kind of goes overboard with stuff, well, you know how moms are…"  Did he?  "Cause I've never gone to this thing alone before, see, it's like my dad used to drive me, right?  But he has to work this week, and I have my license now, so I'm just going alone-"

            Ryan found his edginess slowly disappearing as the kid rambled.  It felt comfortable, somehow.  Familiar.  It had been all of two minutes and he already couldn't help but like the kid.  Maybe it was just the food talking.

            "-I just hafta be absolutely sure I don't forget to – are you okay?"
            "Yeah," Ryan said suddenly.  He shifted in his seat.  "Yeah.  Hey-"

            "What?"
            "How would your mom feel about you picking up hitchhikers?"

"Oh, dude.  You're totally not a hitchhiker."

Ryan wrinkled his nose.  "I'm not?"

"No.  You didn't have your thumb out.  It doesn't count."

Ryan leaned his head back in the seat.  "Seriously, man."

            "She'd…"  He smiled and shook his head wistfully.  "She'd say I was taking after my dad."
            Ryan had to smile somewhat at that.  "Yeah?"
            "Yeah.  He's a public defender.  Juvenile court.  Help the hopeless and all that."
            Ryan was struck by a sudden odd thought.  Surely not.  He squinted at the kid and tilted his head sideways.  No.  Forget it. 

            "What's your name?" he asked.

            "Seth," the kid said. 

            "Seth?  Aight.  I'm-"  He stopped.  "I'm Bike," he said finally.

            "Mike?"
            "No.  Bike.  Like bicycle."  Ryan shrugged.  "Used to have one."
            "What happened?"
            "It, ah, broke," he said vaguely. 

            "Uh, okay," Seth said, sounding a little bemused.  "I'm not really a bike person myself.  More of a skateboard kind of guy."
            "Now see," Ryan said, sitting up, "I cannot for the life of me figure out the appeal of a skateboard."
            "Really?  Dude, you have got to be kidding."
            "I mean, you're standing up, you have to keep your balance, it's all about making it flip around underneath your feet.  You don't really go anywhere."
            "No!  You don't get it!  It's all about speed, aerodynamics, the thrill of the movement underneath your feet."
            "How about actually taking you somewhere?"
            "Well," Seth said, considering, "That's what Range Rovers are for."  For the first time in quite some time, Ryan felt himself smiling. Really smiling.  "Anyway, my board gets me to where I need to go. The car's my mom's, you know, it's not really mine.  I don't have a car.  I get by."
            "Oh," Ryan said, not sure what else to say, but sensing that a response was in order.  He'd finished the goldfish crackers now, so he set to work unwrapping the granola bar.  This kid Seth was a gold mine in more ways than one.

            "You like Death Cab?"
            Ryan stared at Seth, not comprehending.  He thought of the trucker he'd just scuffled with.  "What?"
            Seth looked at him like he was five before tapping the stereo.  "The music."

            "Oh," Ryan said again.  "Yeah.  The music.  It's fine."
            "I got more CD's down there if you want to change it out.  I'll listen to anything in that case.  Oh, unless Dad put his Simon and Garfunkel in there again, he does it sometimes to piss me off.  For a joke, you know?  I can't stand them, Paul Simon's voice drives me crazy.  He thinks it's funny."
            Ryan was already eating the granola bar, with no intention of changing the music, trying not to look too hungry.

            "So, have you been to Texas before?" Seth asked abruptly.

            Ryan shook his head and swallowed.  "Nope.  Never left California, actually."
            "You're kidding," he gaped.

            "I mean, I figure it can't be too different, right?  They speak English, a little Spanish?"
            "What, are you bilingual?"
            "No, I don't speak a word." Ryan grinned at him.  "I'm not real good with languages."
            "Really?  What'd you take in school?"
            Ryan had to think for a moment.  "French?"
            Seth glanced at him, thinking his words through carefully for a long, silent moment.  "You still in school?"
            Ryan busied himself with the granola wrapper.  "…Not really.  No."

            "How old are you?"
            He thought his own words through carefully now.  "Sixteen," he said finally.  No point in lying about it.  Bike had unofficially been almost eighteen as far as everyone else was concerned, but this Bike didn't feel quite so defensive.

            "Yeah?  Me, too.  That's funny."  Seth paused, and Ryan suddenly had the strange sensation that Seth was trying all at once to comprehend why a sixteen-year-old ho longer in school would be hitchhiking to a strange new place.  He didn't like that train of thought so much.  But he couldn't think of anything to say to disrupt it, so he just let Seth's words hang there in the silence.

            "I'm better at math," Ryan finally said around the granola bar.

            "So, you, like dropped out?" Seth asked, his voice unusually steady and even.

            "Um.  No," Ryan said.  "I mean, yeah, I guess, well – it's summer, nobody's in school, right?"  He wrinkled the Kudos wrapper in his hand and searched for a moment before locating the garbage bag, a plastic shopping bag tucked behind the cooler.  He disposed of the wrapper and promptly set to work on opening the Mountain Dew.

            Seth was quiet for a few more moments.  "Maybe in Austin you'll have a new school?"

            Ryan lowered his drink.  "Sure.  Maybe."
            If Seth found this odd, he didn't say anything.  Instead, he focused on changing lanes a couple of times.

            "So, do you want me to let you out before San Diego?"

            "No, it's fine.  I'll just catch a ride there is all."
            Seth wrinkled his nose.  "Okay.  Sure."
            "Why?  What's the matter?"
            "I just – it doesn't seem safe is all," he mumbled.

            Ryan sighed.  "Look, if I wanted a lecture about hitchhiking, I'd…"  His voice trailed off.  He glanced at Seth, who had clearly caught his reluctance to finish the sentence.  Embarrassed, Ryan closed the drink and set it in the drink holder, then maneuvered to strip off the two jackets he was wearing.  He wadded them together and placed them between his head and the window.  "You know, I'm tired, mind if I…"

            "Go right ahead," Seth said quietly.  "Is the music gonna bother…?"
            "No, no," Ryan said, adjusting his makeshift pillow.  "It's fine.  Everything's… fine."

            He stared out the window at the billboards zooming by, the smiling, happy model faces.  At least for a little while, everything really was okay.