"I don't know."

The fingers of dusk stretch lazily across the sky, and the sun slowly begins to set under the horizon. I can feel the added weight of exhaustion on my eyelids. Succulent weight, alurring and enticing and if it wasn't for Emma blabbering about how expensive that gas was a few miles back, I would have fallen asleep right there on the steering wheel. Looks like Emma saved me, again. It seems as if it's habit for her. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't come to my rescue in the washroom earlier. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't reassured me that Spinner was the idiot, not me. And I look over to her now, her head resting against the window, blonde hair framing her face, disheveled and tousled from earlier hours when I opened the sunroof in an attempt to cool us both off. Her white shirt has a slight stain from where I let she let my tears fall. She still doesn't seem to mind, and that is what comforts me most. My eyes drift back to her face, and I watch her as she continues to talk. Those lips are moving, but I'm not hearing a word she says. I don't want to talk about gas right now.

The stretch of country road before me is straight, so I let my eyes curve off to the side. Telephone poles, large oak trees, an occasional small house or two. It's a nice change from Degrassi. A nice change from everything I already know so well. Come to think of it, Degrassi is kind of dull. No, no. Dull doesn't serve it justice. More like boring as hell. There is nothing exciting, no theme parks, no beach, no anything. There is Dean, and there is Spinner, and there is Hazel and Jimmy and Terri and the rest of my comformist goon clique. There's Dylan, and my parents, but right now I'm close enough to the point where I don't care anymore. I don't care where they are, or what they're doing. I don't care what they're talking about at the table when we have the occasional dinner together. I don't care when Dylan comes sneaking in through the door three hours past his curfew. I don't care when my parents yell at me for leaving the orange juice out. I just don't care. They don't understand me anymore. Parents always out of town, Dylan always busy with hockey and Marco or Tom or whoever the hell he's dating now. I'm to the point where I know nothing about them anymore, and it doesn't suprise me one bit.

"Really. Thirty dollars? I bet they don't get a lot of business."

Emma is still talking about gas. I want to reach over and smack her upside the head and tell her to shut up and go back to sleep, but I restrain myself, as hard as that is. Everything was so much more peaceful when she was sound asleep, murming about the environment. Trees or bushes or saving the lake or something like that. It was comforting, more comforting than what I'm hearing now. Gas. The beat of the song on the radio is catchy enough, though, and I let my fingers quietly drum against the steering wheel. It's some acoustic rhythm with soft, heartfelt lyrics. Not exactly my kind of music, but at least it's better than gas. At this point, even if it was some country singer hollering about tractors and horses, anything would be better than gas.

But then I notice she's not talking anymore. I look at her from the side mirror and she's poised, her lips frozen. She's thinking about something. You can tell because two of her teeth are biting the corner of her bottom lip, and she has a distant look in her eyes. Silence has settled around us and it's uncomfortable. I hate it. It's that kind of uncomfortable silence where you want to say something, but you don't know how stupid you'll sound saying it. That kind of uncomfortable silence where you're not sure if you should get up and leave and everything will be easier that way.

Unfortunately, I don't exactly have that option. So, instead, I decide to break the uncomfortable silence with a useful fact. "You like to talk a lot."

Emma, snapped out of her thoughts, looks over at me. It takes her a few seconds to register what I'd said, and by then I was already looking back to the road. The sun was just settling under the horizon and orange and pink are colorwashing the sky, giving off a mellow vibe. I like it. It makes me feel like I'm not running away with Emma Nelson. Like I'm sitting out on my front porch, sipping diet soda with Hazel and sharing the latest gossip we acquired earlier in the school day. I don't want to go back to that.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just, I ramble when I'm excited. Or nervous."

My eyes narrow against the glare of upcoming headlights. "Which one is it?"

"The latter." Emma sighs, and I swear I can hear the faint noise of affliction in her voice. It makes me want to take my hands off of the wheel and wrap my arms around her. Doing so, however, would make the car swerve off into a ditch and hurt us even more than we already are, so I quickly decide against that idea.

"Nervous? Why are you nervous?

I can feel Emma's eyes on me again. "If you haven't noticed. We're like, a hundred or more miles away from home and my parents have no idea where I'm going, or who I'm with, or what I'm going to do, or what I--"

"Rambling again."

"Sorry."

"No worries." I shrug, nodding towards my cell phone, which was perched on the dashboard next to an empty bag of potato chips. "Call them."

Emma shakes her head and leans back into the passenger seat with a defeated sigh. "I can't. Spike would flip a lid. She's already going through so much, with Jack. And Snake. He's.. I just.. no. I can't."

My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, and I look at her from the side mirror again. "Hon, why did you agree to come with me in the first place? If they need you."

She pauses, and she's biting her lip again, as if she was contemplating my question. And after a few moments, she replies. Simply. "Because I need an escape too."

The rest of the car ride was in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Emma asked a few questions here and there, where we're going, if I have any spare clothes in the back. Luckily I still had some stuff from the picnic the comformist goon clique and I had at the park. A cooler with drinks, some towels, clothes, mostly sweaters. I didn't know what good a beach umbrella was going to do us, so I left that out. Emma seemed satisfied with my answer, anyway.

We had pulled off at a random exit after I announced that I was starving. Save for a bag of overly greasy chips and a few pieces of gum, I haven't had anything to eat all day. The exit was quaint and comfortable, small houses with colorful mailboxes and parents calling in their children to eat tonight's dinner. Those little blue inflatable pools in the front yards and middle-aged men walking their dogs on the sidewalk. I smiled to myself, and wondered what it would be like to live here. In a small house, with a family who loves you for you and knows every last detail about your life. In a neighborhood where your neighbors know about everything you do, and if they catch you sneaking out of your house one night, they won't hesitate to give your parents a phone call concerning their little angel. I looked around again, my eyes floating over and stopping on a family eating their dinner on their front porch. And my smile turned upside down.

"Paige?"

Tearing my eyes off of the family, I look over to Emma, who's since then raised a curious eyebrow in my direction. "Hm?"

"I said there's a diner over there. If you want."

Of course I want. Anything would be good right now. "Sure."

And so I drive into the parking lot of the diner. The outside looks good enough, a few cars pulled into the few parking spaces and a dog tied up to a pole, probably waiting for its owner to finish their meal. I pull into one of the vacant spaces, taking my time doing so because the van seems to be larger than the space is. Emma and I squeeze out of the car and make our way into the diner, Emma taking a moment or two to stop and pet the dog on our way.

As soon as we walk inside, my opinion changes. Some ranky-dank country song is playing on the old jukebox in the corner and the disgusting smell of oil fills my nostrils. The men seated at the counter turn around and look at us as if they've never seen two ordinary teenage girls. One of them is wearing a white tanktop and the other is wearing some flannel fashion disaster. The waitresses are stone-faced and they snap their gum like cows, giving us a look. I turn to look at Emma, hoping to see the same look of despair that's right now crossing my face. Instead, she seems fascinated.

"God, this place. It's so picturesque, so classic. Like it's out of a 50's movie or something."

Emma pratically bounces further into the diner and I want to grab her by her hair, pull her back, and lead her straight to the van. There must be a McDonalds around here somewhere.

"Are you crazy? Emma, look at those men. They're each making a cup of their own drool just looking at you."

She glances over to the two men and winks flirtaciously, playfully. The guy in the too small tanktop looks as if he's going into cardiac arrest, while the other just winks back, probably not aware that Emma was joking. Turning around, she laughs, and grabs my forearm.

"Come on, it's not that bad. And don't worry. If any of them come near us, I know how to kickbox."

"Fine."

We slide into a booth far, far away from the two pedophiles. I grab one of the menus and open it up, scanning over our available choices. One of the stone-faced waitresses struts over to our booth and gives us both a onceover. Her name tag reads 'Lindy'. She's pretty, with auburn hair fried flat with a hair dryer and if it weren't for that white eyeshadow, I wouldn't have made my next comment.

"Nice make-up."

She clicks her gum louder, smiling. Maybe she thinks I was actually complimenting her, I don't know.

"Thanks, sweetcheeks. Can I get you two gals anything to drink?"

Emma, who was previously skimming over the menu herself, looks up to the waitress. I smirk when she raises her eyebrows, most likely noticing the waitresses' shabby make-up as well.

"Um.. I'll have a Sprite, thank you."

"And I'll have a Diet Coke."

Lindy nods at us with a smile. "I'll be right back, then."

I look at Emma, she looks at me, and we both burst out into laughter a second or two later. God, I needed that. I so needed that. Maybe I'll write 'thank you' on a napkin and leave it for her.

Lindy comes back a minute later, carrying our drinks with her. She sets them down in front of us and I grab my drink, sipping at the cola. It's cold and refreshing when it flows down my throat, and I sigh happily. Emma just smiles at her.

"So, are you two lovely ladies ready to order?"

"I'll just have a cheeseburger and fries," Emma says, folding her menu back and handing it to Lindy. I do the same, while telling Lindy that I want a hamburger, sans pickles, and a lot of fries.

Lindy takes our menus after writing down our orders and heads towards the back. I look over to Emma, who's reading the drinks menu with little interest, flipping through the small pages boredly. I seize the opportunity. Seize the day. Carpe diem.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" I ask, leaning back into the seat in an attempt to become more comfortable.

Emma looks up, her eyebrows raised again. "Talk about what?"

I snicker, her question rather silly to me. What do you think, Emma? Where'd you get that shirt from? How much were those flip flops? Come on now. "You know what I mean."

She sighs, her arms crossing over her chest as she leans back into the seat as well. After a few moments, she shakes her head. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about it."

I furrow my eyebrows, confused. And she probably notices, because she keeps going. Was it really that bad? "What I mean is.. I don't want to talk about it right now. I just want to enjoy my grease, have a nice drink, and relax. Maybe later?"

Nodding lightly, I offer her a small smile. "Whenever you're ready."

Our food came shortly after that. We ate silently, sharing a comment or two about the food once in a while. Emma said something about tanktop man and the stain on his shirt. I laughed, trying not to spit out the french fries in my mouth at the same time. After we finished, I made sure to write 'thank you' on one of the napkins with ketchup for Lindy. Emma looked at me weirdly, but didn't question my little note. And we headed off into the night, nothing more than two girls looking for a little sanity in their lives.

Seeing the ashes in my heart
They smile the widest
When I cry inside and my insides blow apart
I tried to wear another face
Just to make you proud
Just to make you put me in my place

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys. They made me smile. I now have everything planned out for the story so I'm going to try and write those chapters. The lyrics at the end belong to Vertical Horizon - I'm Still Here. I recommend it.