Reaching out

What a funny chick...

As I stared at the rearview mirror, I couldn't help but think of the curious girl beside me. I knew from the look on her face and her slighlty torn bag that she was a runaway. Like I was...in a way. Except she was a year younger then me...I was fifteen years her major. I blinked again. Still I managed to remember all the education that had been forced down my throat. Education I was forced to learn from the cold hearted bastard I called dad.

"You two mind shutting up?" the girl snapped. I turned around and saw her trying to communicate with a young couple locking lips. Although she wasn't having much luck with it. "Hey do you two hear me?"

I reached over the seat and whacked the dude in the back of the head. He fell on his girl, and they both went tumbling down in between the rows of seats. The girl turned to me with a surprised but slightly pleased expression.

"A tip kid. Telling someone to shut up never works," I felt myself smile and compulsively outstretch my hand in a friendly handshake. "Name's Rashad. Rashad Jackson."

The End

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