A/N: Technically, this is the last chapter. Sobs Although, there will be an epilogue, coming soon. Read & Review as always! I will probably go back after this is done and redo some chapters.

From the Eyes of A Skag

Chapter 6: Gone

By Preppygirl

I entered my kitchen, banging the screen door and slamming the wooden one behind me. I spied a note on the table and grabbed it. I read Adam's writing quickly.

Claire-bear,

I took Remmy over to Carla's. We'll be back in a bit, unless it starts to snow. If Pa asks, let him know. I told him already, but I'm not sure he heard me.

Je t'aime.

Adam

I smiled, both at Adam's girly handwriting and the fact that everything was falling into place.

I walked past the door to our living room. Pa sat there, in his easy chair, head cocked towards the radio. His left hand rested on the dial, his right held a beer. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He didn't move, didn't even flinch.

"I love you, Pa. Je t'aime." Still no response. I turned on my heel and marched up the stairs.

I went into my bedroom and reached under my bed. I pulled out a battered suitcase. Placing it on my bed, I carefully folded my clothes and packed as much as the old suitcase would hold. I placed it by my door and walked into Pa's room. His most recent pay envelope lay on the dresser. There wasn't much inside, but it would help. I didn't feel guilty, taking it. There was plenty stored in the back, I had made sure of that. I also picked up a United States map laying in the top drawer.

Then I went to Adam's room. This was my main plan. I opened his sock drawer and hit the secret button. A trap door sprung and a drawer, stuffed full of money, shot open. I took it all. I counted it. Including Pa's pay, there was almost $800. Adam had been saving up since he was 12 years old and first started working at Al's Garage.

I put the money in a leather wallet. Grabbing my suitcase, I left the house I had grown up in. I would never see it again. I didn't look back. I started walking to the highway. When I heard a car coming, I stuck out my thumb. A large Semi pulled up.

"Need a ride, missy?" the trucker yelled. I opened the door and climbed inside.

"That's why my thumb was out." I pulled off my gloves.

"I reckon'd that'd be why. Where're ya headin' ta?"

"As close to New York City as you'll take me."

"New Yark? I'm headin' thar meself. It'll be t'morrow afore we git thar, ya know."

"Sure. I knew that." I didn't. All I knew was New York was where I was heading- for one reason.

"So, watcha gonna do in New Yark?"

"Catch a bus to California."

"California, huh? After New Yark, I'm heading back ta Ohio. Ya want a ride that far wit me? Cheaper'n a bus, an' quicker too. I don't stop, 'cept to eat an' sleep. Not in any small town, neither."

"Sure, thanks. Oh, hey, monsieur? What's your name? I'm Claire LeBeau."

"Sandy. Sandy Summers. So, Miz Claire LeBeau. Ya hongery? Thar's some jerky in the glove compartment."

I rode with Sandy to New York- or New Yark, as he called it. We stopped once at a trucker's stop for hamburgers and 3 hours of sleep. The hamburgers were big, and loaded with every condiment known to beef patties. When we finally got to New York, we stayed there all day.

I hated it. It was loud and noisy and the buildings were too tall. It's kinda ironic, me hating New York, because of where I'm living now.

Then we left for Ohio. It was boring, plain and dull. Exactly like Castle Pock. I could never live in Ohio. Sandy dropped me off at the Greyhound station in Columbia. I waved until, honking, the semi disappeared over a hill. Then I approached the ticket counter.

"Hello. Can I help you?" The girl behind the counter asked. She was reading a magazine and snapping her gum.

"Yeah. How much is it to California?"

"California? What are you going there for?" I felt like yelling it was none of her business. I hated bimbos like this, which was interesting, because they were the type of girl I surrounded myself with at home: Andrea, Mandy, Jane and Allison.

"Ya want a ticket to Los Angeles-" Los Angel-eez is what she said "Sacra-men-to or San Di-a-go?"

"The first one," I replied, my head whirling. I had never heard of any of them before, at least not the way she pronounced it.

"Los Angel-eez?"

"Oui."

"We?" I could almost hear her spelling it wrong and I winced. I had forgotten, no one in the Midwest spoke French. Back in Castle Rock, everyone took it, Kindergarten through 8th grade. You had to. But I wasn't in Castle Rock anymore.

"I mean, yeah. Los Angel-eez. That's where I want to go." When she named the price, I was a bit amazed, but bought myself a one way ticket to Los Angeles. I was on my way.

A/N: DONE! This story is done, except for the epilogue, which I might have up later today. Maybe. If you're lucky.

French: (corrections are welcome, as always)

Je t'aime I love you

Oui Yes