Mom’s alimony wasn’t the sort that allowed her to get me a car on my sixteenth birthday, and Dad didn’t trust me enough to take care of my grades, let alone a car. But he did teach me over one summer, and helped me get my license. For that and only that, I’m thankful to him. The bus is fine, but I’m always wary of weird guys. I sit towards the front, preferably by a woman, and put my headphones in. I don’t play any music, because I don’t want to lose one of my senses while I’m navigating streets and bus stops. It’s not smart. So I just pretend to listen to music, that way no one will bother me if they think I can’t hear them. I was listening to music, that night. That’s what let him get me. I shake my head and focus on the gray world of Old Haven outside the bus window. Seagulls settle in December-naked trees, icy puddles of slush gathering in gutters and on rooftops. The town of Old Haven isn’t big, but it has a mall and a few good restaurants and a decent club scene.
