We Feel Like Dead Ends

From: 555 845 7661
Hey. It’s Jenna. You never texted me and I was worried so I asked Rian (Dawson, he’s your friend, right?) for it. ‘Sup?

Jack’s mouth quirked up into a ghost of a smile. With a sigh, he shoved the cell back into his jean pocket, turned around and cracked open the door, interrupting Pete mid-sentence.
“-and we don’t want to bother hi-“ He turned. “So what was that all about?”
“I uh…” Jack didn’t want to tell them his problem. They weren’t even his friends (at least in his book) and it’s not like he was even planning on telling Rian or Zack. This was all on him and he intended to keep it that way. “Sorry but I kind of have to go.” Patrick stared at him, confused. But too shy to say anything about it. Pete half shrugged.
“Okay, man. But hey, we still want your help if you’re willing.” Jack shook his head.
“You don’t really want my help…” Before any of them could object, he walked out. The girl who worked at the shop came up to him as he left, but Jack didn’t even glance at her. He just slid out of the music store and sat down in a bus shelter, drawing his hoodie around himself for warmth. It had stopped snowing while he had been inside, which he was thankful for. Hopefully it would get warmer for the next week, considering he only had the clothes on his back and whatever he had squashed in the corners of his locker at school. If it got much colder, he might as well freeze to death.

Hunched against the cold, he pulled out his phone and texted Jenna back.
Nothing much. Just sitting outside.
The aussie immediately responded.
The fuck, dude. It’s freezing out!
Then a minute later,
Jack, whyyyy are you sitting in the cold?
He bit his lip. He should probably just lie and say he was waiting for the bus or some shit like that. But he felt bad for not texting Jenna when he had said he would. (I mean, c’mon. Get your act together Jack, I know you’re swinging for the other team but that doesn’t mean you can treat that babe like shit.) And she seemed nice enough not to be a total asshole about the whole thing.
I sort of maybe got kicked out of my house… I don’t really have anywhere to go tbh
He desperately hoped he didn’t sound needy. Because he certainly didn’t mean to sound like he wanted sympathy, he just wanted someone to know and listen.
Jenna’s reply took a couple minutes.
Where are you? What bus stop? I’ll come pick you up.

~*~

Five minutes later, a rusted green pickup truck pulled up at the bus stop. The window rolled down, and Jenna stared at him from the driver’s seat; one hand on the wheel and the other twiddling a dial on the dashboard to turn down the radio.
“C’mon in, Jack.” She said, half of her words getting lost in the wind. Jack got up and swung open the door, giving the aussie an uncertain glance.
“Are you sure?” He said, but Jenna just smiled and tugged on the hood of his hoodie, effectively pulling him into the passenger seat. She closed the windows, and they drove.

The radio was playing pop punk softy in the background. Jenna kept switching tracks halfway through a song, but Jack was okay with the slightly jarring switch of melody. The sudden-ness of it distracted him from overthinking his dilemma.
Jenna hit the button to change the song again, but the CD just whirred inside the playing. She frowned, but kept her eyes on the road as they drove, Jack was quite surprised to notice, out of town.
“Mate, open the glove compartment and find another CD, could ya?” She said. He obliged, ruffling through a mess of mixtapes in paper sleeves before grabbing hold on one labelled: you’re a train wreck, babe.
And then underneath in red ink, smaller and obviously added much later than the title, it read: not a winner.
As Jack pulled the disc out of the sleeve, Jenna looked over and cringed. He inserted the CD and listened thoughtfully as the first track played.

If it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand
Hope you find out what you are, already know what I am
And if it makes you less sad, we’ll start talking again…

Jenna smiled faintly.
“Wow, what a throwback.” She laughed half-heartedly. “I haven’t listened to anything from Deja Entendu for ages…” The smile slid off of her lips. “Too many memories.”

Jack wondered at a lot of things. And a fair amount of those were about Jenna. There was so much he didn’t know about her, and he was starting to get seriously anxious about driving off in her mysterious old pickup truck. He was unsure of her age; he still thought she was younger than him but yet here she was, driving. Driving and listening to a mixtape that brought back memories that a lot of 15 year olds would be dwelling on and moping about. But not Jenna. She acted like a war veteran, complete with an army jacket and a bandana. She spoke little about the past and what she did talk about was calm, collected. Jack didn’t know why she would be in an exchange student program from Australia, and he didn’t know anything about her family… friends… There didn’t seem to be anyone she was close to. Except maybe this past person who gave her mixtapes and called her ‘babe’.
“Thanks for picking me up, Jenna.” He said quietly.
“No problem, Jacko.”
“But where are we going?” He whispered to the window, watching as his breath clouded the glass.
Jenna suddenly pulled over to the side of the road, turned in her seat, and stared at him.
“Okay, Jack. I’m driving you out into the edge of the city, to find someone for you.” Jack looked at her quizzically.
“Come on, can’t you guess? Think! What’s on the outskirts of this place?” He frowned. The only thing on the outskirts of Baltimore was…
“Alex.” His eyes widened. Jenna cracked a grin, starting up the truck again.
“Damn right, Jack. We’re going to go find Alex.”