American Monsters

“That doesn’t give you the right to scare me.”

“Kinda does, though.”

The blonde sighed, then sat up. “You’re lucky I didn’t pee myself.”

“I think you’re the lucky one in that regard.”

“These are my only pants. You’d have had to buy me a new pair.”

“I don’t think I would have, but okay. Do you need a hand?”

“I don’t accept charity.”

“I meant, do you need a hand up?”

“Oh. No, but I’ll take some charity if you have any.” She got up, rubbed her butt. “That hurt. You’re faster than you look.”

“I’d have to be.”

“So what are you gonna do? Turn me in?”

Amber frowned. “Turn you into what?”

“Turn me in to the cops, dummy.”

“Oh,” said Amber. “No, not really.”

“Right,” the blonde said, and looked around. “Then do you want to buy me dinner?”

“Uh … is this how you treat everyone you steal from?”

“Just the ones who look like they might say yes.” The blonde grinned. “Go on, say yes. I haven’t eaten all day. Just buy me a burger. A cheeseburger. And fries with ketchup. And a Sprite. And maybe some pie for dessert. And a sandwich to go. You owe me at least that.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Shush now.”

“Listen, I’ve had a long day, and I’m really tired.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I … well, yeah, but—”

“Then it’s settled,” the blonde said, clapping her hands. “I won’t steal your bag and, in return, you buy me food. What a wonderful bargain we’ve struck.”

Amber said goodnight to Milo, dropped her bag in her room, and joined the blonde girl in a badly upholstered booth in the diner. They ordered, and looked at each other.

“Name’s Clarissa,” the blonde girl said.

“Amber.”

“I like your name.”

“I like yours, too.”

“Thanks,” Clarissa said. “It’s not my real name, but I picked it because I always liked it. There was a show I used to watch on reruns, and her name was called Clarissa and she had a happy family and friends and everything, so when I left I said I know, I’m gonna be like her. She always seemed to have her life in order, in a Clarissa Explains It All kinda way.”

“You ran away from home?”

“Home is a bit of a stretch. House with abusive stepdad is more accurate. What’s your story?”

“I guess I ran away, too.”

“That guy you’re with,” said Clarissa. “Boyfriend?”

Amber laughed. “No. Friend.”

Clarissa shrugged. “That’s cool. Must be nice to have someone watching your back.”

“It is. How long have you been, y’know …?”

Clarissa widened her eyes, like it was a scandalous notion. “Homeless? A year. Well, just under. It’s really everything you’d expect. You get to sleep under the stars, the world is your bathroom and the people are … peachy. Non-stop fun is what it is.”

Amber searched for the right words. “I guess you’ve met all kinds on the road.”

“That I have, Amber,” said Clarissa.

“Same here. Some of the people I’ve met have been scarier than others.”

Clarissa nodded. “I can relate.”

“You meet some real monsters out there.”

“Yep,” said Clarissa. “Some complete jerks.”

The drinks came, and Amber watched Clarissa pull the straw out of her glass and gulp the Sprite down. It had been so long since she’d spoken with someone who hadn’t been, as Glen would have put it, touched by darkness, that it now seemed weird to conduct a normal conversation.

Weird but nice.

Clarissa drained her Sprite and Amber pushed hers over. “Here. I’m not thirsty.”

Clarissa didn’t argue, but this time she kept the straw in and sucked at a more civilised pace. “Where you from?”

“Florida,” Amber said. “Orlando.”

“Disney World.”

“Yep.”