“Al!” When I saw that Al hadn’t
moved from where I’d left him, I couldn’t help but run up and hug him. I didn’t
care how much of a tool it made me look like. To my surprise, he returned the
hug. “Well, look who’s back!” he said. My mind was instantly filled with
Eminem’s Without Me.
Al
patted me and gave me a stony smile. “What brings you back, Lynn ?”
he asked. I sat at his base. “I tried one of those houses,” I said, “and the
guy there made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. He kept saying ‘Come inside
and we’ll see what we’ll do with you,’ and shit like that. And he called me a
‘pretty bird.’ Yuck!”
“You
don’t like to be told you’re pretty?” Al chided me. “Would you rather be told
you’re ugly?”
“It
was the way he said it, Al,” I said,
still feeling squicked out over it. “Anyway, I didn’t like that guy, and I’m
not too keen on seeing what the others are like. Besides, nobody knows where
Turnersville is. I don’t even think anyone around here has even heard of it.
Have you even heard of it?”
“’Fraid
not.”
“Right,”
I said, sighing. “So how high or low are the chances of me getting out of
here?”
“Do
I look like a mathematician?”
“I don’t know!” I hollered. Normally I
like smartasses, but I was in a state of deep irritation. “I just want to go
home, dammit!”
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