The Highway Girl
By: R. A. Windwriter

Dedicated to:
My old friend who shall not be named, but gave me the strength to write
again. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Whoo. . .This is my train.", I sighed as I stepped onto the platform and into the bustling subway car, teeming with the normal herd of commuters, heading to their dens, and the quintessential drunken hobo who claims the car is his house. Not the best of company, but hey, it won't matter as soon as I'm out of here.

I smiled as I sat down, as far away from the hobo as I could. I have mean, I have nothing against the homeless, but he kind of scared me. . . His lazy eye. . .And he smelled a little funny. Anyway, I pulled out my journal discreetly, so nobody could see. This was the first day of the rest of my life.

"Dear journal. . .", I wrote. "Hi, this is your new owner, Noelle. Er, just call me Nole." Don't ask Why I'm trying to have a civil and decent conversation with my journal; I guess I'm a little eccentric that way. I looked to my left at the hobo, whose lazy eye skittered away from me at the last second. His craziness must be contagious. MUST. . .MOVE. . .AWAY. . . "Ah. . ." After resituating myself, I continued to write. "Nole Edwards." I hate my name. So. . .bland. But I suppose it's one of those things you can't help until you're old enough to change it. Maybe I'd be a good Sheniqua. . . ANYWAY! "I'm 16, and as far as everyone knows, I've dropped off the face of the Earth." You see, I don't entirely have a family anymore. My dad, you see, was a soldier, and died a while ago. I can't really remember because I was so little. My mom told me he was a really great guy and worked so hard for us all. But then, a letter came with another guy dressed in one of those fancy marine's uniforms and told my mom. I could only remember her crying a lot, but that's pretty much it. And my mom? She got really sick and died in the hospital. Of course, that day spawned my hatred of meningitis. I'm getting over it though,. I know mom wouldn't want me sad. She'd be sad if I were, and I don't want to see her sad like when dad died.

"So, it's just you and me, diary. You me, and the other tireless, nice commuters here in this subway car." I looked up, but since we (WE?! I must be cracking if I'm considering my diary to be alive.) couldn't tell what time it was because I didn't have a watch, I decided to ask one of these nice strangers. "Sir? Could I please have the time?"
"GET YOUR OWN LOUSY TIME, 'CAUSE I GOT NONE!", the man shouted back to me. Damn. Scratch that "nice stranger" bit.
"Okay, nevermind these nice strangers. . .", I wrote down in my diary, grumbling as I did so. But what do you know? With no parents, I'm supposed to live with my uncle now. He's a great guy with a nice big family. But, he lives in an apartment and doesn't make much money, so I told him I had another place to stay nearby his place. And in complete and total truth. . .

I don't.

So, here I am, on the number seven train downtown. From there on, I follow the highway out of here, to start on my new life. Home away from home, I say. If you're going away, be happy and look forward. "Phew." I slumped in my seat. I scrawled down a few more thing about myself (I like being formal,, even if it IS an inanimate object.), then peered over at the hobo looking back at me. AGAIN. Damn, he's so creepy. . . But with a jolt, the car stopped and a flurry of commuters rushed past me in a forceful wave, leaving but one person. She was a plump, nice looking old African woman with a cheerful smile, who sat one seat down from me. She looked over to me, and spoke.

"Well, what's a young girl like you doing on this old commuter car?", she asked, putting down her stitching. "Don't tell me somebody like you is already working! That must me against the law!" Oh suuuuure. . .I may be 16, but I look like I'm 14. At least when I'm old, I'll look younger, right?
"I uh. . .I'm moving.", I said. That's the truth, honest. I figure I can at least live on my own and see the world while not being a burden and living with my friends. . .I know they don't need me there, and I don't want my uncle to worry. . . My friend think my uncle lives far away, so I'd have to transfer to another school, and y uncle thinks I'm staying with a friend so I wouldn't need to transfer around his place. Neat plan, huh?
"All by your lonesome?", she asked inquisitively. "Why, in this old age, loneliness is your best friend, child. Ah, no matter. You've got a while yet, and ya' gotta go, where ya' gotta go, right Hon?" She had a warming accent I really liked.
"Yeah! Right!", I said, smiling back at her. The car shook a little, but I paid little attention to that. "Gotta do, what you gotta do."
"That's the spirit.", she replied. "Just try not to be sad about the people you leave behind.
Wow. . .The people I leave behind? I know I'll see my friends again. I mean, I'll come back to the city; I know it. I'm just going to see the world while I', still young. I've got it all planned; I just wirk hard and think with common sense, and I'll be fine, right! NO RAPISTS OR MASS MURDERERS WILL CROSS MY PATH! AHAHAHAAA! Er. . .sorry about that. . .

We talked a lot on that trip; she said where she was from, about her old hubby, her cats, and where she was going from here. And when the conversation turned towards me, of course, I'd direct it away and back to herself. Now really, how smart would it be for me to tell her, huh?!
"Well, it's been a nice trip, child, but this is my stop.", she said, as the car creaked to a halt. "Have fun at your new home, promise?"
"I promise.", I said. Well. . .Wherever home WAS. . .Maybe Aruba. . .OR DISNEYLAND?! No, no. . .That's more psychotic than fun. . . I waved to her as she left, and the doors closed. I sighed. Yep, yep. . .Me and the hobo. . .Nothing like quality time. . . OH GOD! IS HE LOOKING AT ME?! AGAIN?! HE'S GETTING CLOSER! RAPE! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAPE!
"Do you know what time it is, miss?", he said in the scratchy voice. Oh.
"DON'T RAPE ME MR. HOBO, SIR! I'M STILL A MINOR!" Hey, I panicked, okay?!
"UH. . .That's all right. . .", he said. "What is the time?"
"Oh. . .Sorry about that. . .", I apologized. "It's about 7:00"
"Thank you.", he said. He's nicer than he looks. . .I then put myself at greater ease, knowing he was a decent man. "Where are you off to?" Did EVERYBODY want to know the answer to that question?!
"Just to a new-
"Home?", he asked. "So I hear. You have that look of a traveler in your eyes, miss. I can tell you have more than one stop for home." DAMN! This guy is pretty good. . .
"Oh, just a few. . .", I replied.
"Well, we all have to make a few stops before we find a home, right?", he asked. "My house already moves, so I'm all set." I chortled. "WHAT?! THIS IS MY HOUSE!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. . .", I said, calming down. "You just sound-

"Off my rocker? Over the deep end? A few corn dogs shy of a picnic? Nuttier than a fruitcake? I'd be damned if I didn't young lady, and don't you forget that.", he said, taking a hand with a grimy torn glove, rubbing his unshaven muzzle. "It's just that look you have. . .You know, you have pretty eyes." AM I BEING HIT ON BY A MIDDLE-AGED VAGRANT?! I mean, really, I haven't had a boyfriend ever, but I'm not that desperate for a compliment. Anyway, I have nasty green eyes that I will forever and eternally HATE, and only put up with for the fact that my mother loved them because they were just like my father's.
"What uh, makes you say that?", I asked.
"My deceased wife had green eyes. . .", he said. "They shine just like her. Never lose that sparkle, kid. A lot of people search for their spark, and even though I can tell you're still looking for yours, you're on the right track."
"Why am I taking advice from a hobo?", I asked him. I mean, REAAAAALLY?!
"Because, hobos see more things than a normal person ever could, because they haven't been to as many places. Kid, just go out and find what you're searching for, all right?" The car came to another stop. My stop.
"I'll keep that in mind.", I said, while standing up and nearing the exit. I brushed back my dark hair from my shoulders. A reminder of my mother. "Thank you." I was smiling, I realized, as I exited that subway car. You know, I hope I meet more civil and decent people like him. He may not be very rich, but he knows what he's talking about.

The door shut.

"HEY! WAIT! AAHHH!", he shouted. "Damn, I couldn't charge her money for the advice. . ." He sighed, and leaned back into his corner. "Guess no drinkin' for old Johnny tonight. . ."

Above were the stairs to the noisy surface world. I stepped up energetically to the edge of downtown, near the highway. I just need to follow this route to the next town and keep going until I get back where I started, and then some.

I'll be back when I find a home.

*~*~*~*~* A/N Contrary to popular belief, this has more than one chapter, thank you very much. . .Please, RR if you will, because I honestly don't hold much hope for this story without encouragement. . . Arigatou gazaimas!