“Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes, Turn and Face the Strange, Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes…”

Ashley glanced once again down the street for a glimpse of Spencer but she was nowhere to be found. It was 3:30 on Thursday and Spencer was supposed to have been here half an hour ago. Ash began to worry. Craning her neck and searching as far down the block as her eyes could manage, she frowned and took a seat back on the cement wall that lined the creek. An empty bag of salsa verde Doritos fluttered by, the wind carrying it along, destination unknown. Ashley clasped her fingers together, wringing them nervously, doubt beginning to tingle up her neck, resting oddly on the top of her forehead at her hairline.

Her body jumped to attention, responding to hurried footsteps a block away, only to let a deep sigh release, as a child hurried up the block, pushing a bicycle with the training wheels still attached.

Her teeth found her lower lip and began to gnaw, a habit formed somewhere on Route 66, 300 miles outside Barstow when she was thirteen. Six states in 6 months, she had told her father plainly, what a wonderful life they had. She had cleaned up her split lip in an interstate restroom, the metal mirror distorting her reflection, making it hard for her to clean off the blood. The toilet was clogged to the brim with urine and feces, a previous traveler covering the horrid sight with a paper towel, a vain attempt to save the next user from the disgusting sight.

Unfortunately, they had used the last paper towel, and Ashley had to wipe the excess water and blood mixture off her lip with the underside of her shirt, the stain showing through, a constant reminder of her father’s nonverbal communication techniques.

The bathroom door squeaked loudly, the sun barreling into her eyes, forcing her hand up to her face. Her mother had stayed in the car, no longer the assistant in these situations, as she had been for year’s prior. This time, she sat quietly in the front seat, eyes straight ahead, afraid to move or just too ashamed to try.

It was then Ashley realized that she was alone in all this. The car housed three people, but she could only count on one. If they were to break down in the sweltering desert, she would crawl away to safety, sweat dripping down her chin and onto the ground, the subtle sound of vultures in the sky, her anger and resentment forcing her legs forward, away from the helpless cries of her mother and father, her betrayers.