I always wonder what life is like for other people. I wonder if they’re happy, or maybe sad. I wonder if they’re experiencing fear right in this moment or if they’re experiencing love. I wonder about the things they’ve seen that have changed their lives forever. Me though? I’ve felt and seen a lot, almost too much. Most of it pain and disappointment, some of it joy and bliss. But nothing could compare to the things I was to see on the journey I was about to start.

However, right now all I can see is white as I step out of the dark café into the blinding sunshine, my best friend Carter at my side. Just like every Wednesday, we went straight from school to the Moonlight Café, ordering two frozen hot chocolates, sitting at our usual table in the corner, and discussing our latest musical finds.

“You know, it’s been at least 80 degrees every day for the past two months and it’s the middle of November. Does the sun ever take a break?” Carter complains as we walk down the empty sidewalk toward my house.

Glancing over, I watch him run his hand through his cinnamon hair, his brown eyes squinting in the light. I’ve always been jealous of his eyes, they were like caramel and chocolate, swirling together to create a whole new meaning to the color brown. They were so much unlike my own. I’ve always thought of my eyes as mossy green, worn and washed out and dull.

At that moment a light breeze decided to blow our way, making wisps of my dark auburn hair hug my face. “We live in Arizona. Has it ever taken a break before?” I ask him.

“Well, no,” he says with a frown.

“Yeah so why did you ask me a question like that?”


“Well why are you so negative?” He asks me with a teasing tone. Rolling my eyes, I shove his shoulder, making him stumble to the side as he chuckles with his deep voice.

After 10 minutes of arguing between whether Givers’ music or Grouplove’s music were better, we finally reached my street, stopping at the corner.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he says to me as I start walking away.

“Of course,” I reply.

“Promise?” Carter asks me, his voice sounding almost serious. Carter has always taken promises to heart, never forgiving anyone who has the guts to break one.

Turning around to face him as I keep walking, I say with a half-smile, “I promise!”

He gives me one last grin that makes me feel warm, like putting on a sweater fresh out of the dryer, before walking in the opposite direction toward his own house. I never understand why he wastes so much time to walk me home every Wednesday when he lives far on the other side of town. But I don’t complain. It’s kind of nice to have that type of company around.

As my small, beat up adobe house comes into sight, I take a deep breath. My weekly escape was over and now it was time to face reality. With a sigh, I make my way through the crunchy, dried up yellow grass to the front door. After fidgeting with the handle, I finally push it open to hear crying coming from the left. Slamming the door behind me, I quickly jog into my six years old brother’s room to find him sitting against his bed with tears streaming down his face.

“Miles! What’s wrong?” I ask him with concern as I pick him up and carry him to the couch.

Cowering into my arms and hiding his face in my neck, he says with a quiver, “Nothing.”

“I know something is wrong, there has to be some reason you’re cr…” I say as my voice trails off when I notice it. There on his arm is a small bluish purple bruise. Gently, I run my fingers over it, making him cower and whimper even more. “Where’s Landon?” I ask him sternly as I feel the anger boiling up, not even putting in the effort to call him “Father” or “Dad”.

“Him and mommy left a couple minutes before you got home,” Miles says quietly.

“And they left you here all alone?” I ask with disgust.

Wrapping his arms around me, Miles starts crying harder. I hug him tightly and whisper soothingly into his ear.

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Miles whispers.

“Don’t you ever think you did something wrong. Ever,” I say strongly, looking into my brother’s ice blue eyes. With his blonde, curly hair sticking out in every direction, he reminded me of our older brother Trae when he was younger.

Trae was lucky enough to turn 18 three years back, leaving the exact day it was legal. With one red sports bag hanging off his shoulder and his guitar on the other, he ruffled my hair, said, “I’ll see you later Evy,” and walked out the door. I remember crying myself to sleep that night after he left, feeling alone and abandoned. But then I found his letter the next day, tucked into my favorite poetry book. It explained everything, such as how he had been saving up money to leave for the past seven years from playing guitar every weekend downtown. It also mentioned that he was hoping to find a place somewhere in North Carolina and he wrote down his phone number in case I needed it. I never called, unsure of what I would say to him if I ever did.

Although he was more the musical type, Trae would usually come across as athletic. He had such blonde hair with frosty blue eyes and a strong, tall build. Every girl on the block was head over heels for him, staring out their windows with awe whenever he walked by. He and I had the same nose and the same wide smile, but that was all we had in common look-wise. But we made up for it with our personalities, sharing a love for music and writing. Back when I was younger, we would write a song every week together, most of them silly and pointless. Yet, it was always something to look forward to in our hectic lives. As he grew older, he became extremely talented in writing real songs, playing them on his guitar to calm down Miles as a baby. I always admired the calm aura he constantly had surrounding him, being able to make any frantic moment become alright, like everything was going to be okay.

Thinking about Trae, I suddenly got an idea and I hopped off the couch. Setting Miles down gently, I tell him to wait there as I rushed to his room. Grabbing the smallest bag I could find, I began shoving in his clothes, toothbrush, and a few toys and books. I throw it onto the couch next to him as he looks at me with wonder. Next I headed to my room, grabbing my own things and shoving them into a bigger bag. Opening my closet, I kneel down and remove the $1,350.25 I had hiding in a crack in the ceiling. With one last look around my room, I head into the living room and crouch in front of Miles, taking his tiny hand in mine.

“Miles, we can’t be here anymore. I don’t want you to hurt anymore like Trae and I did. We need to leave and we need to leave now,” I tell him softly.

“But what about mommy and daddy?” he asks me with a scared look flickering in his eyes.

“They don’t matter anymore; they’ll just make you hurt more. That’s why we’re going to find Trae and live with him for a little while. It’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll take care of you.”

“Live with Trae? You mean by the ocean?” Miles asks me with sudden interest, perking up a little. He was obsessed with the ocean and the idea of so much water and so much life living in it. He could spend hours talking about it, sleeping with the beach pictures Trae would send him on his birthday every night.

“Right next to the ocean,” I tell him with a grin.

“Well, I guess that’ll be okay,” he says with a little hesitance, squeezing my hand tighter before standing up.

“Alright, before we go, I need to stop at Carter’s house, okay?” I tell him as I pick up my bag.

“Okay,” he says with a nod.

Together, we walk out hand in hand, leaving the little house with its memories behind without looking back. Heading toward the bus station, we begin our walk away from the hurt, hoping to finally find our happiness in our coming future.