Chapter 22

Dear diary.

We slept in the car last night. Marisa let me have the backseat and she slept sitting up in the driver’s seat. It was cold. The radio said it’ll be negative degrees for the next few days. It might even snow. The weather lady said it all chipper, like it’s something to be excited about.

We can’t leave the heater on or it’ll drain the car battery or something, so we just put on as much clothes as we could, but I still shivered the whole night. I didn’t sleep very much.

Marisa found a mall parking lot that had a few of those big camper vans parked inside and decided it was safe enough. At least we know we won’t get kicked out because they obviously let people stay in the lot overnight.

I remember once I tried to get Marisa to buy a camper van. Then we wouldn’t have to keep spending money on motels, and it looks soooo much more comfortable than a car. But Marisa said it wouldn’t work out “logistically” (I don’t know what that means) because:

1) it’s big and recognizable

2) it’s clunky and slow

Still though, I thought it would be nice to try one, at least for one day. Maybe Marisa will change her mind when this is over and the cops are on lower alert. Whenever the heck THAT happens.

It's about 7 o’clock now. Marisa and I are going back to the mall washroom to clean up a little. We tried going last night, but it was closed because it was almost midnight.

I didn’t brush my teeth last night, and when I woke up this morning I felt so grimy. My mouth was stinky. We didn’t shower last night either. My WHOLE BODY is extra smelly and crusty. The best we can do right now is wash our faces in the mall washroom. Wiping my face with the brown paper towel is probably one of the worst experiences I ever had. It’s so...well, papery. And it smells weird, like I shouldn’t be putting it anywhere near my face.

I shouldn’t complain. I keep telling myself that. I should be glad we’re both still free and alive. But I can’t help it, okay? I keep feeling so mad, and I want to punch something, or at least bite something really hard.

I’m in the washroom stall, and I can hear Marisa taking something out of her bag. Usually I hate when washroom doors have really big gaps, but it’s a good thing this time because it means I can spy on Marisa. She’s like a different person when she thinks I can’t see her. Her whole face suddenly turns all deep and dark. She’s looking at her medicine bottle, and I can tell it’s empty. She throws the bottle away as quietly as possible. If I wasn’t spying, I don’t think I would have heard it at all.

How long has the bottle been empty? Did she take her medicine yesterday? She never told me what it’s for. She never told me she takes medicine, period. I could ask. She promised me she would never lie to me again. But I’m scared to find out the answer. What happens if she stops taking the medicine? Would she die?

I come out of the stall. Marisa is putting on an orange reflective vest. It means we’re about to rob some vending machines.

It's still very early, so none of the shops are open, and there’s barely anybody in the mall. We find two vending machines. There are a few old people loitering. I guess it’s too cold to take walks outside, so they’re walking in the mall.

Me and Marisa have a system worked out though, and it’s one we used in places that are even more crowded than this. Since she’s wearing the orange vest, nobody would think she’s suspicious. She’s just a worker. But if a kid starts hanging out with her while she’s opening up the machines, THAT becomes suspicious. So I find a bench a good few shops down, and Marisa goes to the machine that sells drinks first. She crouches down and pretends to unlock the coin box with a key. I spark the lock, and the box pops open. She collects the money inside. None of the old people look at her.

Then I have to change my position so I can see the vending machine that sells food. Same process. Pretend to unlock, spark the box, take money. No one will be able to tell the machines are broken until the mall opens for real, and by then we’ll be gone. And it’s not like They would hear about this and go “vending machine vandalism? Must be Dany and Marisa!” They probably wouldn’t hear about it at all. The cops would, though, so doing this always makes me feel like we’re about to get caught. Marisa always says the key to not getting caught is to not act suspicious. Stop looking over my shoulder and stop tensing up and definitely don’t run. I try my best. But what if Marisa trips and all the money falls out of her pockets? I don’t think any amount of not acting suspicious would get us out of that.

We head back to the car separately, me first. Marisa catches up to me halfway across the lot and leads me to a different car. Spark the lock. Hot wire the engine. Back on our way. To where? I don’t even know anymore.

She gives me the money and I count it. There’s a little more than a hundred. Enough for a few days, at least. She got all the change, too, and I look for some special coins, and I get hit with this weird heavy panicky feeling that this is going to be the rest of my life. Always driving. Always stealing. I try to picture myself doing this when I’m seventeen. When I’m twenty-five. When I’m thirty. I can’t do it. The same way I can’t imagine Marisa as a kid. One day I’m going to be the same age as Marisa. Will I still be doing this? Will we still be running? Do we even have a chance of making it out of the country?

Thinking about it is making me even more panicky, so I just count the coins and show Marisa a special one because maybe that would make this feel normal. Like she’s just my regular mom and I’m just a regular kid and all I have to worry about is if I can find a special coin I’ve never seen before.

My shoe is falling apart.

I don’t want this to be forever.