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A Story by Alyssa

I’m not doing it.

There is no possible way in this life that I’d do it.

Screw this, I’m doing it.

My mind battles as I dial the number. 1-800-WHEELS. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Why does it seem that whenever you do something you feel reluctant about, everything gets so exaggerated. Those steps on the sairs get louder, the air seems colder, and that ringing, I swear, rings fourteen times. Finally someone picks up.

“Wheels Taxi. I get you there. What do ya need?” says an old man. I assume he’s old. I mean, it could very possibly be some young guy with an old voice. Or even a girl. That must suck to have the voice of an old man if you weren’t an old man.

“Hello? Is this one of those goddamn prankers again?” he grumbled.

“Right, sorry. Uhm, could I possibly call a taxi” I mumble into the phone.

He grunts. “You just did. Where are you and where do you need to go.”

“I’m in Louiston, Pennsylvania. I, uh, need a ride to the Philadelphia train station.

He grumbled that I could be picked up in twenty minutes. Don’t be late. Don’t forget money, enough money that is. Zzzzz. Dead line.

I run up to my room. God, how I’ve hated this room. Green and pink walls with butterflies surround me. Those stupid butterflies. I assume that if this doesn’t work out and I become some sort of drug seller or prostitute or whatever, and I end up in hell, it’s just gonna be me in this room for eternity. Well, me and those stupid butterflies.

I grab my wallet. It contains exactly eight hundred dollars saved up for this occasion from birthdays and paychecked from work. It also includes a subway punch card with one punch, but I figured I’d probably lose it or some fairy would take it, as I assume they always do. I also grab my vintage brown-ish backpack that contains all my essentials. By essentials I mean headbands, a toothbrush, three notebooks, lots of pencils and pens, fourteen cents, tampons, and a picture of my brother. Like I said, essentials.

I run downstairs. Fourteen minutes until my knight and carriage ride would arrive. By carriage I mean dirty taxi and by knight I mean a grumpy old man, or a young man with the voice of a grumpy old man.

Crap, thirteen minutes. Focus.

I stand in my kitchen for another minute. I didn’t know what else to do. I noticed I felt no qualms about my leaving, not anymore. I knew I wouldn’t be missed. See, Louiston was a very crumby place. It had crumby people and my mother was one of them. She remained jobless a lot. Not today though, today she managed to work at a Chik-fil-A down by the Laundromat she used to work at. Eric, my brother, was somewhere else. Hopefully not in my room, with those goddamn butterflies. He’s a good kid. I know he;d be okay with this. He always said we’d both do it someday, together.

Honk. Here.

I grab my backpack and a bottle of water and jump into the taxi that smelled horribly like fish and dead body. But mostly fish.

“Philadelphia Station? What’s a young gal like you doing going to Philadelphia Station?” said the not so grumpy old man. Maybe he just wasn’t a phone person.

“I’m going up to visit my dad In New York” I lied. I don’t know where Dad is. The old guy could be my Dad for all I care.

He nodded and didn’t say anymore. I was glad he wasn’t the question type, I wasn’t in an answer mood. I had to admit, I was kind of hoping to see a young guy with an old man voice, but alas, I was not so lucky.

When I arrived at the station, I thanked Mr. Taxi Man, bought a ticket to New York City, and waited. And thought. And wrote. And then it came.

An old fashioned train with a roaring engine and a ticket to the unknown, waiting for me to run on. I surveyed my possible outcomes.

1. 1. I could turn around. I could go back in the taxi with the maybe-grumpy-maybe-pleasant old man, ride right back into Louiston, losing nothing but my money and a bit of my dignity.

2. 2. Or, I could get on the stupid train. I could go to New York, and at least try to make more of a future than I would get at a crap high school in nowhere Pennsylvania. I could get away from my crack-whack- throw-the-wine-back mother, and live the life I promised Eric I would. I could write things. Stories, poems, and magazine articles I don’t know! I could change my future.

I turned around, and I saw the taxi man. I saw him sitting against the roof of his taxi, taking a long drag out a cigarette. I saw him cough up a lung, and snort back some spit. I thought about how he could be my dad. I thought about Eric, and his memory in this town. I thought about my lame as anything mother who could barely support herself.

He turned his head slightly, and to this day, I swear I saw him nod.

So I turned around, away from Louiston, away from my mother, away from the girl stuck in a dead end town full of crumby people, and got on the stupid train.

And to this day, I have never looked back;