He glanced at her. “I know more than you think. I grew up seeing kids like you around Boston—being jealous as hell because I didn’t have shit. I wished that I had parents who weren’t always drunk, throwing shit, hitting each other and hitting me and my brother. I would have loved to live in a nice house with a nice yard, get a decent car for my sixteenth birthday—or even just have enough food in the house so I wasn’t going to bed hungry most nights.”
She swallowed. Maybe he’d gotten some things wrong—they weren’t that rich, for one thing. But he’d gotten a few things right. Her family did live in Avon, Connecticut, which was a very nice town and with a great school system and most of her friends had been quite wealthy. She’d never had to worry about having nice clothes, or spending money, or having enough food in the house.
“I’m sorry you didn’t have those things,” she told him, and meant it. “But you don’t know anything about me or my life.”
“I know enough. I know that you left an ivy-league school that most people would kill to attend, and you’re lying to your parents about it. I know that you’re running away to Florida with hardly any money, and you don’t have the first clue what it’s going to take to survive on your own.”
Caelyn licked her lips. “I have my reasons.”
“Sure. Sure you do.”
Her stomach was on fire now. He was painting her as some spoiled rich kid with a silver spoon in her mouth—some stupid, selfish girl being immature and silly. And he had no right to do so.
“What makes you so great that you can sit there and judge me?” she said.
“You’re lying to the police about your name. You’re running away too.”
He nodded. “That’s right. Because I have no choice. I don’t have an education, I don’t have parents that give a shit. All I had was baggage that was going to drag me down.”
“Those are just lame excuses,” she said, firing back, trying to hurt him the way that he’d hurt her. “Plenty of people come from poor homes and have parents that are alcoholics and they still do well in school and end up very successful.”
“Sure they do. That’s what they tell people like you, so you don’t have to feel bad when you step over some drunk bum on your way to your cushy corporate job. Or when you see some guy getting cuffed and stuffed in a police cruiser, you can just feel superior because he didn’t pull himself up by his bootstraps.”
“Maybe he should have. Maybe he could have. Maybe it’s the truth,” she replied.
“But it’s not. If I had the same breaks that you’ve gotten, I’d be going to Cambridge University too. Only I wouldn’t cut and run.”
She stared at him. He looked at her for a long moment and then turned his attention back to the road.
“You don’t know anything,” was all she said. But she was starting to wonder if maybe he didn’t have a point after all.
***
When they crossed into Washington D.C. later that day, she noticed that Elijah was starting to fade.
Traffic had begun building up on the highway, and the slow driving was getting to him. He was restless, moving in his seat, shifting his weight, fidgeting with the radio.
She could see it all over his face, plain as day. He was exhausted.
Despite the fact that they hadn’t spoken much since the argument, she was worried about him. He’d been up driving for hours and hours. They hadn’t had very many breaks, and it was clearly starting to wear on him.
And even though she’d had a brief nap or two, she was completely strung out as well. Her mind and her body had been taxed to their limits.
“Maybe we should stop soon,” Caelyn said, as the traffic slowed further. “It’s getting to be rush hour and the traffic’s only going to get worse.”
“That’s not a very positive attitude.”
“You’ve been driving for hours and hours. At least let me take a turn.”
He gave her a look like she was crazy. “I’m not letting you drive. I saw what you did to your car, remember?”
“I didn’t do anything. It just broke down.”
“Sure it did.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you plan on just driving straight through to Florida?”
“Sure.” He checked the time. “It’s only…what…another fourteen or fifteen hours. I can do that standing on my head.”
“You’re practically falling asleep at the wheel, Elijah.”
“I just need to stop for coffee. I’m fine.”
They continued on for another hour or so. Traffic was slowing to a crawl. Caelyn found her own eyes closing, opening and closing, and she was dozing. She’d snap awake periodically to find Elijah staring out at the endless line of cars in front of them.
She opened her mouth to say something a couple of times and then thought better of it.
Traffic broke up as they got deeper into Virginia. Elijah stopped at a gas station to fill up and grabbed them both coffees.
As they were leaving, Caelyn tried to give him twenty dollars.
“Get that away from me,” he said, refusing to take her money.
“Fine, I’ll just put it in your glove compartment.”
“I’ve got plenty of money,” he told her, “and I’m pretty sure you don’t. You should save it for Florida.”
“I can’t let you keep paying for me.”
“What were you studying?” he said, as they left the gas station. He handed her a coffee and stretched, his shirt pulling up and revealing a flat, washboard stomach with six-pack abs.
She tried to avert her gaze but couldn’t help but stare.
“Hello?” he asked.