Free Nowhere Girl by A. J. Paquette Page B

words, but I think them. And I don’t know how much of my thoughts reach Kiet, but after a minute his grip under mine relaxes.
    I study his face and when I see a smile crack the corner of his mouth, I let out a breath. He understands, then. The relief makes me giddy. Then I look down at myself, clothes dripping wet, half-covered in mud from the side of the road. And suddenly a laugh starts in my belly, creeping up my chest and rippling out until it’s swallowing me up.
    Kiet jumps at the sound. “What?” he says.
    â€œEvery time we go driving,” I gasp out, still shaking with laughter, “I bring the monsoon into your car.”
    Suddenly this is the funniest thought I’ve ever had, and I just want to laugh and laugh and keep on laughing. And soon Kiet is laughing, too, his mouth open wide and his head tilted back so I’m not sure how he’s even watching the road. And as we laugh, all the anger and uncertainty and fear, and everything I’ve gone through in the last few hours slips away and falls behind me, like the puddles by the side of the road, like something that’s in the past, like this really is the road to my new life.

19
    Now that the air is clear between us and we are back on our way to Bangkok, I have time to give careful thought to what is up ahead. Kiet is lighthearted and cracks jokes to try to make me smile. But I realize now that my outburst of hilarity was more about shock and relief than real humor. I try to play along with Kiet, but the laughter keeps getting stuck in my throat.
    Every time I look out at the side of the road, I see the flash of the syringe, the stranger’s big hands as he lunged for my neck.
    I shake off the past and try, as the hours creep by, to focus on the future. For that is problem enough on its own.
    Kiet must finally come to this same realization. “Luchi, tell me about your plans. What is up ahead for you?” He juts his chin in the direction of the gray mass in the far distance: Bangkok, Krungthep Mahanakhon , the City of Angels.
    I told the chief warden of my plan to locate Mama’s friends in Bangkok, and I told the same to Kiet when he asked me at the start of our journey. But in truth, my focus then was on gathering my strength to leave the prison. I had so little concept of the outside world that planning seemed impossible. Now I see that I am terribly unprepared: if my plan were a piece of art, it would be a stick figure. There is little more to it than skin and bone.
    Kiet turns to look at me, then jerks the wheel to the side to avoid another car. “You do have a plan?” he asks. He does not seem as sure as he did a minute ago. He is also no longer laughing.
    â€œI have those addresses and phone numbers,” I say. “People my mother knew in Bangkok. I will go and talk to them, find out what they know. They can give me advice on how I will get to America.”
    Kiet’s foot slams on the brake. He whips the steering wheel to the side and barrels up onto the shoulder of the road. A green pickup truck leans hard on the horn as it passes us by, sending a spray of mud down the side of Kiet’s window. The driver is still cursing in the distance as Kiet looks at me with round eyes.
    â€œ That is your plan?” he says. “That’s all of it? You are going to Bangkok to talk to someone you have never met, and you just expect them to help you?”
    I try to make my voice strong, but I feel my insides tightening up. “Mama knew more than one person in Bangkok. There will be people who know how to reach my relations in America.”
    Kiet lowers his forehead onto the steering wheel and mutters under his breath. After a minute he digs into his back pocket and pulls out a mobile phone. “Here,” he says. “Get out your phone numbers and start calling. You cannot just come to somebody’s front door without announcing yourself. Tell them who you are and see if they are