Soria Girl

You’d think driving from Florida to California would take maybe a couple days, maybe close to a week.

Heck no. Not with my dad.

Every night, we stopped at a motel. And we had to go to every little tourist trap, like “The World’s Biggest Toenail,” like he was trying to cheer me up. It was so stupid. I mean, I’d be alright if we stopped at “The World’s Biggest Headache Pill,” so I could take it and be fine for a while.

Colorado flashed past us in a blur of unimpressive scenery. It was sunny and summery as the trailer behind us bumped along in the road. I wasn’t listening to music, since the batteries were dead and I’d listened to all my CDs already.

My cell phone was going batshit in my travel bag, so with an annoyed state of mind I’d yanked it out and glanced at the number – it was Brendan. I’d recognized it.

“Hello?” I said after flipping it open.

“Hello?” he echoed. Yeah, this was Brendan.

“Dude, if you’re gonna call just to ridicule me-”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Well…you just left me at the park and haven’t talked to me since, so…”

“Oh, that! Nah, I just remembered my curfew.”

I went silent.

“Hey, listen - where are you?” he continued.

“…I’m moving.”

“What?”

“I said, I’m moving.”

“When? Where?”

“I’m in Colorado right now…I’m moving back to Santa Monica. Look…dude…I’m sorry.”

He sighed into the receiver. “Huh. The guys were right.”

“Yeah.”

“—Joey, shut up! I’m on the phone!!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Brendan…?”

“What? Oh. Nothing. That was just my brother.”

“…Okay…” Nothing else to say to that.

“Hey, um…Ren likes you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, old news, dude.”

He snickered. “Uh…I’m sorry. You know, about the whole park thing. I didn’t know you were moving, and…I hope you have fun.”

I smiled. “I hate my life. Moving sucks,” I laugh-cried, a little sarcasm thrown in for effect.

“Yeah, well. I guess that’s it,” Brendan added.

“I guess it is.”

“So we’ll never see each other again.”

“C’mon, don’t say that.”

“You’re coming back?”

“I won’t guarantee that, but I’ll try.”

“Write us. And send us crap. So we’ll know you’re still alive.”

“Psh. I’m gonna live forever.”

He grinned on the other line; I could feel it. “Well…bye.”

“Bye, kid.”

We hung up. Tears were cascading down my face, half out of joy and half out of relief. He…he forgave me. Ren…Luke…and Brendan…they all forgave me. It was perfect. Life was awesome. I couldn’t have been any happier if Mike Ness himself came out of the sky and asked me to marry him once I turn 18.

I smiled and sighed at the thought of Santa Monica. Every wrong I caused in Claymore was now right, and the guys said goodbye and not good riddance. Besides, I’d be going back to my original home. To where I began. Sure, the people would be at least a year older than I remembered. And maybe the memories of our front lawn would be a little haunting.

But, I’d be getting back to my roots. That’s always pretty fun.

Dad yawned. “Y’alright?” he asked. I shrugged and went back to looking out the window. It was nearing four o’ clock and the late afternoon sun beat down on our luggage and us.

Bundling my nerves up even tighter than they already were, we’d pulled into California a few hours ago and were well on our way to Santa Monica.

And an hour later, we pulled into a street with a big sign at the entrance.

WOODERSON

Ah…my old neighborhood. I had to sigh to rid myself of all of those jitters, finally believing once and for all that it was true.