Anywhere Else- Releasing on Friday, September 24th

Here's your sneak peek:

Chapter 1

The clanks and clunks erupting from my truck were making for a terrifying drive to work. Despite having saved every single penny I could towards buying a decent vehicle, this was as “decent” as it was going to get. My mom had known someone selling an old, beat-up truck for fifty bucks, so I’d bought it. It was ugly but it was mine.

A sudden jerk jolted me against the worn fabric seat, causing my heart to skip a beat. Before I could react, smoke started billowing from beneath my hood and a spraying noise filled my ears.

Oh no, what if this thing is catching fire?

Bumping up and down on the uneven ground, I pulled over to the side of the country road, the sounds of swishing dry grass accompanying the trucks clunking until I came to a stop.

The engine groaned as I cut it, as if thanking me for putting it out of its misery. Panic started to set in while I watched the smoke continue to billow in front of me. The smoke—and my dreams—disappearing into thin air.

“Oh no, you don’t!” I yelled. “You cannot die on me yet.”

Hopping onto the tall tan grass, I waved my hand through the smoke. As I reached out to touch the hood’s clasp, the metal seared my skin, making it impossible to open until it cooled.

Dread, guilt, and panic all found friendship in my anxious gut as I looked at my situation.

Why? Why me?

Truth be told, I was not going to be able to fix this on my own. Whipping out my phone, I dialed my boyfriend, Chase.

“Hello?” he answered groggily.

“Hey, sorry to wake you. I wouldn’t have called, but Sydney is already at work and I need some help.”

There was a long pause. “Did you drive that truck today?”

“I need to get to work. I don’t have a ride.”

He sighed. “Leena, I told you that truck probably wouldn’t be ready to drive yet. You should have let me look at it before you drove it.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“It’s all right. Where are you?”

“I’m on the side of the road near the blue barn on Route 897.”

“Let me get some shoes on and I’ll come out there,” he said. “What’s your truck doing exactly? So I’m prepared.”

“It was making strange noises and then it jerked. Next thing I knew, there was smoke coming out from under the hood. The good news is that it’s not on fire…I think. The hood is extremely hot though.”

“If it was on fire, you would know, don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”

After the line went dead, I shoved my phone in my pocket. I was very ready for things in my life to turn around.

Leaning back against the front bumper, smoke billowing around me, I found myself looking straight at a cow.

“What are you looking at?” I muttered.

***

Thankfully, Chase arrived within twenty minutes and sent me on my way. He was able to tape the damaged hose, mumbling that we would need to order a part to repair it. Despite giving off a strange smell from the fluid that sprayed, the truck survived the rest of the ride. Chase told me to let him know I made it home safe in what he called “the death trap.”

Entering Dean’s Grocery Store through the back warehouse’s double doors, I felt a rush of cool air conditioning greet my face. Two warehouse workers near the freezer waved at me as I walked in.

When I settled in front of the sink mirror in the breakroom, I eyed my hair as I pinned it back. I saw Sydney’s curious expression appear behind me.

“I thought we were going to need to send out the rescue team,” she said. “Did you drive that truck finally? I thought Chase told you not to?”

“Me too. It’s running now, so not to worry. Chase came and helped me fix the radiator hose.”

I started to make my way through the back kitchen to the front counter, Sydney following behind.

“Are we going to see this ugly truck you keep talking about?” Ben called from the grill room.

Rolling my eyes as I grabbed a warm, soapy towel from the bucket, I searched the dining area for dirty tables.

“I saw that you know!” he called out.

At the grocery store, we worked at a small diner-style counter located in the back. I loved everyone I worked with, however, working with Sydney and Ben always made for an entertaining shift. Sydney and Ben were constantly argued over what genre of music should be played in the grill room for the night. Their typical antics made my shift that day fly by.

Once the lights were out and the store was quiet, I walked with them out to the parking lot, silently praying for my truck to start.

“Here it is!” I announced, beaming.

Sydney and Ben both stood in silence, their expressions unreadable as they stared at my truck.

Jumping and waving my hands for effect, I re-announced. “Here it is!”

“Adding more pizzazz to your introduction will not make it any better,” Ben said wryly.

“Come on, it’s not that bad!”

“I like it. It reminds me of the old truck from that car movie. Even if that truck was one color and yours is like five,’ Sydney said cheerfully. “Let’s call it ‘Betty’.”

“I am never stepping near that thing. How did you even get it here?” Ben asked.

“Oh, you didn’t know? It flies,” I said, crossing my arms. “I drove it and it runs great now.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to keep my phone on ring so I can come get you when you’re stuck in a ditch somewhere.”

Turning on his heel, he walked to his own new and fancy truck.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I called out to him.

Now I watched Sydney cautiously as she lit a cigarette, small puffs of smoke floating around her.

“Let me look inside it. I’m not afraid of that thing,” she said as she exhaled.

Stepping closer, she peered inside as I opened the door. “Are you aware that it doesn’t even have a radio?”

I saw her gazing at the large hole in the middle of the console, containing a lone light bulb that illuminated the tired blue interior of the cab.

“Yeah, the kid who used to own it took it out. But on the bright side, it gives me a great light at night.”

“Only you would find the positive,” she laughed.

I made sure not to mention to her that before I drove it home after purchasing it, it needed to be hot-wired to start it. Better yet, I found out it also had no brakes when I went to stop at an intersection. Thankfully, no one was harmed on my ride home.

Dropping her cigarette, she stamped it out with her foot. “Ready?”

Shooting her a small smile, I hopped into the cab. Slamming the door to make sure it closed caused a shower of rust chips to fall to the pavement below.

“I’m waiting here to make sure you make it out of the parking lot in one piece,” Sydney said. “I will also keep my phone on ring, as Ben says.”

When I’d started working at Dean’s about half a year ago, I was incredibly shy, but Sydney had taken me under her wing and now we did everything together. Though we had attended the same high school, she was popular and a year ahead of me, so we’d never talked much. But despite her social status, which was still popular, she never ceased to surprise me with her generous personality. She was kind, unlike some of the other people that ran in her crowd.

As I backed up, a loud misfire caused both Sydney and me to jump. I was now silently regretting my positive opinions of this truck. Nevertheless, if I was stranded in the middle of nowhere, Sydney would be my first call. She wasn’t one to judge, and anytime I needed her, she always came through.

As I shifted into drive, there was a loud pop before the truck seemed to get with the picture and drive. I rubbed the dash, thankful for its persistence.

I mean, Betty’s persistence.

Turning left out of the parking lot, I waved in my rear window at Sydney’s shadowy figure.

My hair seemed to float around my face, the air weaving in and out of it as I drove. The smell of flowers, fresh-cut grass, and barbecues wafted into the cab of my truck as I drove along the country back road. The sky was a magnificent backdrop filled with vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows as the sun set on the cornfield-dotted horizon. It was nights like these when I wished I could stop time and just revel in the moment.

But I knew better.

Before long my tires were rolling over the rocks on my driveway. Fireflies danced in front of my truck as my headlights washed over the front of my house.

Walker’s truck was gone from the driveway, which meant he had probably left early for his shift. Walker was my mother’s latest husband. He worked as a truck driver, most times barely appearing on anyone’s radar. During the weeks he was home, he would spend his mornings drinking coffee before catching up with my mom. Most of the time though, he would catch up on the sleep he’d missed while on the road.

I didn’t remember my dad all that well, as he’d left my mom, older sister and I before I was two. So honestly, I had no father figure to compare Walker to. All in all, though, he and I got along fine.

The yard was a sea of pitch-black as I made my way to the front door. Upon entering, a strong odor greeted me, almost like rotting food. Flicking on the light revealed stacks and stacks of dirty dishes. As far as I could see they were stacked on the kitchen table and the counters.

Dropping my bag at the door with a sigh, I took the stairs two at a time to quickly change. After working a double shift, the last thing I wanted to do was come home and clean the house.

A closer inspection revealed clothing and trash strewn in various places around the house, which only added to the stomach-churning odor.

Stationing myself at the kitchen sink, I got to work hand-washing the dishes in meditative circles one by one. Nearing the end of the stack, I discovered the culprit of the stench was the mold that had made a home in four coffee mugs.

This wasn’t the first time this had occurred. Mom would sometimes go on these cleaning binges, cleaning the whole house from head to toe. But other times, she wouldn’t get out of bed for days, leaving me to buy groceries with change I’d scrounged out of the washing machine.

Growing up, I had always yearned for the easygoing lives my friends lived. Coming home to clean houses, parents who cared about them, and having the freedom to just be a teenager. But in my house, I grew up at the age of six. When I needed to, I managed to cook my own Thanksgiving meal, wash the laundry, and get to where I needed to go.

Just as I was drying the last of the dishes, a familiar pop of gravel accompanied by headlights flashed across the front windows. My mom’s car’s silhouette was visible from the kitchen window as I ran the dishrag under warm water and started to wipe down the counters. I watched as she turned off the car and sat in the dark, the glow from her phone illuminating her face. This was one of the toughest parts, just sitting here, waiting and wondering, which version of her was I going to get.

Mom had worked a wide variety of jobs over the years. She had never been to college, but wanted to get a management job somewhere. Yet, she claimed she could somehow never “find the right fit.” This, unfortunately, had led to many job moves and income changes for her. Each of her jobs had also come with new friends who helped her sink more deeply into her bad drinking habits. There were always one or two people who liked to drink with her after work, which usually led to late nights and terrible mornings.

I had already moved to the kitchen table, sorting through large piles of mail when she walked through the door, her expression blank as she dropped her bag to her feet.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

“Did you start ironing my shirts? I work an early shift tomorrow and I need them done. I’m going to bed.”

I stared at her more closely.

I could feel in my gut that tonight wasn’t going to go my way. Her white dress shirt had brown stains down the left side, her eyeliner was smeared, and she was searching her bag for a fresh cigarette.

“What?” she asked, noticing my scrutiny.

“I had to leave early this morning. Why didn’t you iron them before you left?”

Her eyes slowly narrowed as she stopped rummaging, her stare searing a hole into me.

“You know how hard I work to put a roof over our heads. I think the least you can do is help me out!” she yelled.

My cheeks grew rose-red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, I had never been good at hiding my emotions. Irritation rose within me as I remembered how many times this conversation had taken place. It was the same old song she always sang about how she was the only one who worked hard.

Slowly exhaling my pent-up breath, I hoped with all my might that it would release my irritation. I needed to pivot this conversation fast.

“I cleaned up the dishes, so now the kitchen is clean,” I said with a smile. “That’s always a good feeling.”

“There wouldn’t have been so many if you’d cleaned them up yesterday, Leena.”

Breathe, I thought.

“Sorry, I must have missed the ones that were in your room.”

Her eyes narrowed once more, cluing me in to all the nerves I was hitting. My irritation now gave way to a heavy dread that didn’t sit well.

“You know what? I’m growing tired of your high and mighty attitude. You sit over there on your high horse acting like you’re above it all. Reality check, hon, you are just like me, but younger,” she spat.

A lump formed in my throat as her words sank in, taking any self-worth I had left piece by piece.

“I’m not trying to pick a fight. I’m just trying to help out. I try to clean when I’m home.”

“Oh, yes, how could I forget? All the times you choose to grace us with your presence. Ever since you got that truck, it’s as if our needs here don’t exist. I mean, if I would have known you were going to act like a greedy child, then I would have never mentioned that truck to you,” she seethed. “And better yet, just for a little icing on the cake, you get a smartphone. A little self-indulgent, don’t you think?”

“I need a good phone in case my truck dies,” I whispered. “I’m going to college at the end of the summer. I’m going to need a phone.”

With a shake of her head, she huffed. “It’s the first time you have real money and you’re acting like a child. You know rent is due in two weeks.”

How could I forget? You remind me every time you’re mad at me.

Leaving this conversation and letting her cool off was the best outcome for this situation. The days she went out drinking with her friends, she lost her filter, and conversations like this were the result.

“I can try to get the shirts ironed in the morning before I go to work. I worked a double shift today, so I’m just really tired.”

“Take a number, sweetie. We’re all tired. Welcome to life. You want to be a grown-up? Then this is it. This is as good as it gets.”

To give her space, I took a few steps towards the stairs. She quickly stepped into my path. As I moved in the other direction, she blocked me again.

“I just want to go to bed.”

“You can go to bed somewhere else tonight. I want you gone,” she said leaning in closely to me.

Panic rose in my chest like a high tide, my head starting to spin. This was the first time she had ever asked me to leave. Yelled at me, yes. Tried to hit me, yes. But never leave.

“Okay. I just need to grab some clothes for tomorrow.”

Her gaze never leaving mine, she walked to the fridge and opened it, helping herself to a beer.

Running up the dingy brown carpet stairs, I grabbed two changes of clothes, my laptop, and some toiletries. Turning back towards the stairs, I could feel my stomach clench in knots at the thought of facing her again.

Just as I made it to my truck, I felt tears pooling in my eyes, ready to spill over. As I shifted my truck into reverse, her figure appeared in the kitchen window.

Does she even feel remorseful?

Watching bugs dart through my headlights, I racked my brain as I drove down the driveway. Where was I going to stay tonight? Where was I going to sleep?

While thoughts of my future raced through my mind, my pent-up tears sprung free, flooding down my cheeks and soaking my shirt.

Leena, get a grip. It could have been worse. It has been worse.

Pulling over to the shoulder of the road, I took loud, jagged breaths as I tried to calm myself down.

My phone illuminated the cab of my truck as I stared cluelessly at the home screen. I didn’t want to bother Sydney. She and her mom had their own issues without the added stress of a guest. Today was Tuesday, which meant it would be Chase’s day off. I could go stay at his place for the night. It wasn’t as if he slept anyway, on his days off he was a night owl.

Throwing my phone into my bag, I put my truck into drive.

Rolling down the window, I let the air once again weave and swirl through the cab hoping it would dry my tears and clear my head.

Want to preorder your copy? : http://mybook.to/AnywhereElse