The Samantha Project

by Stephanie Karpinske

  “Don’t take long,” the trucker said as he pushed buttons on the gas pumps. “You’re not back here in 15 minutes, I’m leaving without you.”

  I didn’t trust his threat. I knew he wouldn’t leave without me. After all, he had plans for me once we got to Kansas City. I had to find a way to get out of there fast before he started looking for me.

  I raced inside the crowded truck stop. Shelves of food lined one wall. I glanced at them quickly, wondering if I had time to buy something. I looked over toward the cash register and noticed the line went all the way to the back of the store. Too long a wait, I thought.

  Above the register was a giant flat-screen TV that showed the storm had already passed through Iowa. “Things should clear up as the temperatures rise this afternoon. Now back to you, Steve,” I heard the weatherman say.

  I turned away as the local newsman continued. “There was an explosion in southern Minnesota today that’s believed to have left 10 dead and at least five injured.” I whipped back around toward the TV. The GlobalLife logo was positioned at the top right-hand corner of the screen. “The explosion occurred early this morning at a building owned by GlobalLife Genetics, a division of GlobalLife Incorporated. Most of the building was destroyed. It’s believed a chemical explosion in one of the labs is to blame. More on this story later during the noon broadcast. In local news . . .”

  I stopped listening and replayed what the newsman had said. At least 10 people dead? I immediately thought of Dave. Was he there when it happened? He had to be! That meant there was a chance he was one of the dead! I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t. It would throw me off track. Dave was alive, I told myself. Now concentrate on getting out of there.

  I went to use the restroom. As I washed my hands, I noticed a girl about my age was at the sink painting her nails black. She had straight, dark black hair, a black t-shirt, and a long row of stud earrings in each ear. It seemed that she was going for the goth look, but only halfway. Unlike the goth kids I went to school with, she wore no black makeup and didn’t seem to have any tattoos or other piercings.

  In my rush to wash my hands, I accidentally splashed the girl’s newly-painted nails.

  “Oh, I’m sorry about that,” I said.

  “It’s okay. It’s just water,” she said, blowing on each nail. “What’s the rush?” she asked, as I turned to leave.

  “Um, nothing. No rush. Again, I’m sorry about your nails.” I had no time to talk to this girl, but she wasn’t letting me leave.

  “Hey, are you in some type of trouble? You seem stressed or lost or something.” She stopped blowing on her nails and put all her attention on me.

  “I hate to be rude, but I really need to go, okay?”

  “If you’re in trouble, I can help,” she said as if she did this every day.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can get you a ride. Or food. And maybe money, although my folks keep telling me to stop giving money to strangers. Said they might use it for booze or whatever.” She started blowing on her nails again, then stopped suddenly. “Oh, not like you’re a drunk or anything.”

  “Well, I could actually use a ride.” I wasn’t sure where this was going, but it was my most promising option so far.

  She grabbed her big, puffy black coat off the bathroom floor. “Then let’s go. The bus is leaving in like 5 minutes.”

  “Wait. Aren’t you gonna ask me anything? Like why I need a ride or where I’m going? Or if I’m some nut job?” I followed the girl out.

  The girl looked me up and down. “You seem normal to me. And the look on your face tells me you’re trying to run from something—or someone. I don’t know. You seem like you need help. I pick up on that stuff with people. My mom says I’m intuitive or something.”

  She put on her coat and turned to me. “Listen, I don’t know your story. If you want to come with me, let’s go. Otherwise, nice meeting you, whoever you are.” She held out her hand, inviting me to shake.

  I ignored her outstretched hand and grabbed her coat sleeve to pull her closer so she could hear me over all the noise outside the bathroom. “Okay, long story short. My parents are dead. I ended up in a bad foster home so I ran. I caught a ride with this trucker guy and he wants to, you know, do stuff and I have to get away from him.”

  “Oh my God, really? That’s disgusting. How old is he? Is he in here now?” She peeked around the hallway that led to the bathroom, trying to glimpse into the main truck stop area.

  She took off her coat and gave it to me. “Here, put this on.” She pushed up her sleeve to reveal a red hair band around her wrist. “And put your hair up.” She handed me the rubber band. I pulled my hair into a ponytail.

  “Now I’ll go first and you walk next to me. Keep your head down but just act natural.” I almost laughed watching the girl try to plan the whole thing out, like we were spies in a movie.

  “The guy’s out pumping gas. He’s probably not even in here. Let’s just go.” My comment seemed to disappoint her. It was painting a far less dramatic scene than she had hoped for.

  “The bus is right out front. Follow me.” We walked through the truck stop and got on an old school bus that had been painted light blue. Across the side of the bus it read, “Christ the King Lutheran Church.”

  “So this is a church group?” I asked as we took the seats at the very end of the bus.

  “Yeah. We’re all in youth group at our church. But not the same church. About half of us are from Zion Lutheran in Council Bluffs, which is where I go, and the rest are from Christ the King in Cedar Rapids. We met here in Des Moines since it’s like halfway for everyone.”

  “Where are you guys going?”

  “We’re doing mission work. Building houses for people in this small town in Texas. Just outside San Antonio.”

  Score, I thought! Texas! Just where Dave told me to go. Finally luck was turning my way. And a church bus, no less. Another score—had to be safer than hitching a ride with another trucker.

  As we settled in, an older woman wearing dark creased jeans and a sweatshirt covered in embroidered kittens approached the girl. She seemed annoyed. “Last one on, Ruby? You know, we were all waiting for you,” she said, as she checked Ruby’s name off a list. Before Ruby could speak, the lady turned to me in alarm. “Who’s this? I already checked everyone off.”

  Ruby turned to me. “This is, um, Amanda. Remember how I told you we were picking up my friend in Des Moines? Her parents just dropped her off. Someone probably forgot to put her name on the list.”

  The woman looked flustered. “Oh, I’ll just add her then. Last name?”

  “Um, Hunt? I mean Hunt. Amanda Hunt,” I said. Ruby snickered.

  “Welcome aboard, Amanda. I’m Mrs. Johnson. If you need anything, I’ll be up front.” The lady walked toward the front of the bus, waving the driver to go.

  Ruby burst out in laughter. “That was great. Wasn’t that great? I’ve never done anything like this. Brought on a stowaway. Made up a fake name. This is awesome. I’ve got to text my friend Kelly about this.”

  “No.” I covered her phone with my hand. “Please don’t tell anyone. People are looking for me. Cops are looking for me.”

  The desperation in my voice was clear. “Fine. I won’t tell her. Not today. But someday, I’ll totally be telling this story to everyone.”

  “Okay. Feel free to embellish a little because it really wasn’t that exciting.” Considering what I had been through the past few weeks, ditching the trucker was a nonevent.

  “You want something to eat? I’ve got a bunch of stuff to snack on.” She reached under her seat and pulled out her backpack. “Let’s see, I’ve got almonds, chips, granola bars, some vegan meal bars. Or Mrs. Johnson has some box lunches up front.”

  “I’ll take a granola bar,” I said as I felt my stomach rumbling. “Are you a vegan?”

  “I just became one,” she said, setting aside some almonds. “I mainly did it to drive my mom crazy. I figure I got to reb
el somehow, right? I mean, I don’t drink or smoke or stay out past curfew. I had to find something to drive her nuts.” She got up to get drinks from a cooler on the seat in front of us.

  “Want one? We got pop, iced tea, fruit punch.”

  “I’ll take the fruit punch.” I took off Ruby’s coat and set it back on her seat.

  “It drives her crazy that I wear black all the time, too.” Ruby handed me the drink. “But it’s not like I wear black lipstick like those goth girls at school. And I like the color black. It’s classic. Isn’t that what they say?” She smiled at her newly painted black fingernails.

  “So why aren’t you guys in school?” I asked, surveying the rest of the bus, which was filled with people around my age.

  “We’re all in private school. We’re on a different schedule than public schools.” Ruby balled up her puffy coat and shoved it against the window to lean against.

  “You said you’re building houses? How long are you down in Texas?”

  “Two weeks, but that counts driving days. Like, this is day one but we’ll be stuck on the bus all day. Then when we get there we’ll have orientation, which is another day, so it’s not that long. And we don’t always build houses. Last year they had us fix up a daycare center for some kids and help build a playground.”

  “That’s nice that you guys do that.”

  “Yeah, but really, half of these kids are just going to get a break from their parents or hook up.” Ruby could see my surprise. “Well, maybe not ‘hook up’ in the usual way. But you know, just meet someone they can date who doesn’t go to their school.”

  She gulped down her drink and put her feet up on the seat. “Enough about me. Tell me more about you. Are you from Iowa?”

  “No, but I’m from the Midwest.” I felt uncomfortable giving her information. Ruby seemed nice enough but I couldn’t trust anyone. It wasn’t worth the risk.

  “The Midwest? Could you be any more specific?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about where I’m from. I’m trying to get away from that life, you know?”

  “How about a boyfriend? Can you tell me that? Are you seeing someone?” Her voice rose in anticipation. I was clearly not living up to the exciting runaway persona she had imagined. I had to give her something.

  “Yeah, I have a boyfriend. He’s tall, dark hair, really good at sports.”

  Her interest was piqued. “Tell me more. How long have you dated? Does he know you ran away?”

  I imagined Colin, wondering where I was. Wondering what had happened to me. He must have tried going to my house. Was he looking for me? Even if he thought I broke up with him, he would still try to contact me.

  “He knows,” I said, wishing he really did know where I was. “He’ll find me after he graduates.”

  “Oh, that’s so romantic,” Ruby said dreamily. “What sports does he play? Is he hot? Do you have a picture?”

  The rapid fire questions were making me laugh. “Slow down. Too many questions. Um, sports. He’s quarterback of the football team—well, he was, but football season’s over. Now he’s on the basketball team. And he plays baseball.”

  “Pictures. Do you have any? Where’s your phone?”

  “I don’t have a phone. Not with me. I left it . . .” I caught myself before I blurted out where I was from.

  “No phone? I would die. Well, you’ll have to describe him to me.” She folded her legs on the seat like a little kid during story hour.

  “I already did. He’s tall, like six two or three, I guess. He has dark hair, deep brown eyes.” I imagined Colin standing before me. “He always smells really good. I don’t remember what cologne he wears, but I like it.”

  “So he must be in great shape with all those sports.” I could tell Ruby was fishing for more info on Colin’s physical attributes.

  “Yeah, he’s got the six pack abs. He works out a lot. Lifts weights—but he doesn’t have those huge muscles with veins popping out. That’s gross.”

  “This guy sounds awesome! How could you leave him?”

  “We’ll see each other again,” I said, knowing it was a lie.

  Ruby spent the next two hours telling me about her old boyfriends and why each relationship didn’t last. Then she described just about every guy in her school, including some that were on the bus, and why they were inadequate material for dating.

  I liked Ruby. She was funny and full of energy. She talked nonstop. She was a little like Allie that way. Of course, Allie had more of the sophisticated rich girl look and not the half-goth look or whatever look was Ruby was trying to pull off.

  “So what are you gonna do when we get to Texas?” Ruby surprised me with her sudden change of topics. “The bus is letting us off at some bus station in San Antonio. Then a local church group is picking us up in vans to take us to the town we’ll be working in. Do you want to come with?”

  “No. I’ve got plans.”

  “Plans? You just got on a bus to Texas. Did you even want to go to Texas?”

  “I just wanted to get far away from home. And Texas is pretty far away.”

  “But what are you gonna do there? You have no place to live.” I could tell Ruby was a helper. She liked helping those in need; it bothered her when she couldn’t do that.

  “I’ll find a job. And a place to stay. Maybe I’ll look for a church or something.”

  “I feel like I should do more for you. I mean, you’re like my age. And I wouldn’t have a clue what to do if I ran away.”

  “You’ve already done enough,” I said, smiling at her to put her at ease. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  Ruby didn’t seem convinced. “Let me give you some money, okay? You must need money, right?” She reached for her backpack under her seat.

  I reached out to stop her. “No, Ruby. I don’t need money. Really, I’m fine.”

  “No, just let me give you a little. My parents are rich. We have plenty of money. My parents have really good jobs. Hey, you could have my phone. I’ll get another one.” She held out her brand new iPhone, which she had covered in a black rhinestone case. Sparkly, yet somewhat goth. It was so fitting for Ruby.

  “I’m not taking that. I don’t need a phone.”

  “Everyone needs a phone. Really, my parents will get me a new one. I’ll just tell them I lost this one.”

  “What exactly do your parents do?” I imagined Ruby’s parents as lawyers or doctors who constantly gave her gifts to bribe her out of the goth phase.

  “You mean their jobs? I don’t know. Boring stuff. Something to do with finance. But they’re also in charge of stuff. And people report to them. So they make good money. They work at this big ag company that makes like fertilizer and seeds.”

  “Do they both work at the same company?” I asked, not really that interested but trying to make small talk.

  “Yeah, they both work at a company called GlobalLife. GlobalLife Ag.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Comfort

  My heart starting pumping a million beats per minute. I slumped back into my seat feeling like I was going to pass out.

  “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” Ruby scooted to the end of her seat. “Should I get Mrs. Johnson?”

  I didn’t answer but just sat there motionless. Had this all been one big setup? Maybe Ruby was an actress just pretending to be my friend. GlobalLife could have had her waiting in that bathroom. She had been overly friendly. And who invites a total stranger on the bus? It was all starting to come together. I was trapped on a bus and GlobalLife put me there. How stupid could I be! I should have known that the whole church bus thing was a setup made to make me feel safe, like I could actually get away without harm.

  “Hello? Are you okay?” Ruby was now on the seat next to me, hovering over my slumped body. “You look pale. Maybe you need to eat something.”

  “Yes, I need to eat. Could you get something? Maybe one of your vegan bars?” I said, trying to get her away from me.

  “Sure.” She i
nstantly headed back to her seat, happy that I was letting her help. “These bars really aren’t very good. I don’t even eat them. I had one and it was disgusting. I just have them because my mom thinks I don’t eat right and these things are loaded with vitamins and stuff.” She shoved the bars into her backpack and pulled out a candy bar. “Here, take this.”

  Ruby smiled and handed me the candy bar. She seemed really sweet and she was genuinely trying to help. It was hard to imagine her being part of some GlobalLife plan. But I couldn’t be sure.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the candy bar and the cold bottle of water Ruby offered me. “I should probably sleep a little now. I’m pretty tired.”

  “Okay. I hope you feel better.” Ruby leaned against the bus window and stared at me, looking concerned.

  I closed my eyes. I pretended to sleep, but my mind was focused on reading her thoughts. I took a sip of the water and tried to calm myself. But hard as I tried, I heard nothing. It was just like with the truck driver. I couldn’t get even a word of Ruby’s thoughts into my head. But I had heard some of the trucker’s thoughts. What had I done differently?

  A connection, I thought. That’s what I did. I focused and made a visual connection. I imagined our minds being connected with a rope, then I really focused. A few minutes went by with no sound. Maybe she was sleeping, I thought. I looked up to see her still looking my way in between tapping on her phone.

  I focused even more, imagining that rope connecting us. “I could just give her some cash and . . .” I looked up to see Ruby still staring down at her phone. She hadn’t said anything aloud. It was working! I was hearing her thoughts! “ . . . put some money in her backpack . . . wouldn’t find it till later.” I was getting snippets rather than whole sentences but it was something.

  I kept listening. “ . . . seems really cool. Wish she . . . my school . . . great hair, wavy . . . hate my hair, it’s so straight.” The partial sentences were getting annoying. I tried to focus harder.

  “Tell my parents about . . . No, she’s my friend . . . shouldn’t tell . . . at the church . . . Texas, maybe get her a room to sleep . . . wish she’d let me help.”