Free Girls Love Travis Walker by Anne Pfeffer Page B

requirement, and I didn’t meet it. And I did plan to go back to school. Maybe I could solve my money problem and re-enroll at thehigh school without Perkins ever knowing.
    I should tell him the truth now. I didn’t even want to think how bad it would be if I got caught.
    Maybe I should just quit. I needed to make money on weekends, not dink around with volunteer programs.
    Maybe they wouldn’t find out. I’d just stall Perkins on the confirmation of enrollment until I got back into school. Maybe he’d forget about it.
    Zoey and I sat on the bench outside the dining hall after our shift ended and ate cupcakes from the batch she’d brought from home that morning.
    “I like to bake,” she told me. “It makes the house smell good.”
    Instant longing shot through me, bad enough to make my throat hurt—just at the thought of a comfortable home that smelled like cupcakes.
    “Do you still live in Perdido?”
    She nodded. “My family too. My mom and stepdad live there with my three brothers.”
     “Younger brothers?”
    “A lot younger. They’re six, eight, and nine. They’re my half-brothers, really. Growing up, all I ever did was take care of them. So when I turned eighteen, I got my own place.”
    “Wow. That must be great.” Zoey really had her act together. Goals, a job, a place of her own. And a long-term boyfriend.
    “It’s just a room over a garage,” she said. “But it’s mine!”
     “What about your boyfriend?”
    “He’s from Santa Alicia,” she said. “We dated all through high school.”
    “So, pretty serious, huh?”
    “I guess.” A banner of blond hair hid her face as she looked down. “I met him freshman year through Kat. They both went to Santa Alicia High.”
    Kat. I hadn’t thought of her in a while. I hoped Zoey would fork out some details about the boyfriend, but it didn’t happen. “What things do you like to do?” I asked.
    “Oh, lots. Swim, run track, read. In high school I really liked being on the school newspaper and yearbook staff.” She took a bite of cupcake, managing to look pretty while she wiped frosting from her upper lip with a napkin. “What about you?”
    I didn’t have much of an answer for her. At least, not one I wanted to give, since historically most of my spare time had been devoted to getting laid. “It’s weird. I’ve mainly worked a lot the last few years. To make extra money.” I tried to ignore the feeling of shame that curled through me, for being poor and unentitled, a mongrel fighting for scraps. Especially when I thought of her boyfriend from Santa Alicia, who was probably Mr. Moneybags.
    She cocked her head, like she was gearing up to ask another question. The door to the dining hall opened, and some guests came out, including Hilda. She marched over to us.
    “Cupcakes are missing. Travis needs a cupcake.”
    “I had a cupcake, Hilda. Thanks, though.”
    “Travis needs a cupcake,” she said more loudly, presenting me with a much-handled specimen.
    “Thank you, Hilda.” I accepted it.
    She wandered off.
    “Hilda really likes you,” Zoey said.
    There was no denying it. Most days, Hilda found a reason to talk to me and brought me smashed little pieces of food, which I accepted and secretly threw away later.
    I wondered which had come first, the homelessness or the mental illness. It seemed to me that being homeless would make you crazy. How could it not? The fear, the uncertainty, the difficulty of getting anything accomplished when you had no place to be. How could I look for a better job without a mailing address or a way to clean my clothes?
    “I can hardly wait to get her into The Haven. It’ll be soon now.” Brightening at the thought, Zoey gave me a smile that was pure sunshine. It warmed me, even that little core part of me that seemed to be cold all the time these days.
    “Hey,” I found myself saying, “you know what I’ve started doing?”
    “What?”
     I began by describing the accident on the Ridge. I hadn’t