They Left Me Twice, I Stopped Following Chapter 02

They Left Me Twice, I Stopped Following Chapter 02

Before dawn, I threw my backpack over my shoulders and stepped out.

The dirt road at the town entrance was slick and wet. My phone’s flashlight could only illuminate two or three steps ahead.

The cold wind still leaked into my right sneaker.

The extra pair of socks squeezed my toes numb, and the raw tear on my heel burned every time it rubbed against the back of the shoe.

I didn’t stop.

In the past, Grandma always got up before dawn.

The stove would be roaring, and fresh, warm bread would be sitting on the counter.

When I left, she would chase after me to shove a boiled egg into my pocket.

“Walk slow, don’t fall into the ditch.”

Nobody said anything today.

I hitched my backpack higher on my shoulder and kept moving.

By the time I reached the third intersection, the sky was just turning gray.

I suddenly remembered my past life.

After my parents moved away, I walked down so many roads like this.

The first time I skipped class was when someone claimed they saw Mom at the bus terminal in the next county.

My homeroom teacher chased me all the way to the station, forcing the math competition admission ticket into my hands.

“Sienna, the competition is tomorrow.”

“Come back with me first, okay?”

I clutched the bus ticket till it crumpled.

I was terrified that if I missed one bus, my parents would be gone again.

“Teacher, I’ll come back as soon as I find them.”

That day, I got on the bus anyway.

I missed the competition.

I gave up the full-ride merit scholarship the school applied for on my behalf.

My teacher offered to arrange board for me, my classmate offered to share notes, and the donor lady said I could stay at her place.

I turned them all down.

Because someone was always telling me.

Looks like I saw your dad somewhere.

Looks like your mom was at that station.

Time and again, I bought a ticket and chased after them.

Once, after running two blocks, I grabbed a woman by her sleeve.

“Mom…”

She turned around.

It wasn’t her.

I let go immediately.

“I’m sorry.”

She stared at my red, frozen hands.

“Where are your parents?”

My lips parted.

“I’m looking for them.”

Later, my grades plummeted from top of the class to below twentieth.

The last time my homeroom teacher confronted me, she only asked, “Sienna Chen, are you throwing your own life away?”

I kept my head down, picking at the frayed edges of my bus ticket.

“I just want to find them.”

A sharp pain shot up from the bottom of my foot.

A pebble had slipped through the split in my shoe sole.

I leaned against a telephone pole and pulled off my sneaker.

My sock already had a hole worn through it.

My fingers were so numb from the cold that it took three tries to dig the rock out.

Looking up, the roof of the school building was visible in the distance.

I put my shoe back on.

This time.

I just wanted to finish these five miles.

After the first period, my teacher called me into her office.

She handed me an application form.

“The New England Prep School network opened a full-board merit and need-based scholarship program this year. Tuition, room, and board are entirely covered.”

“You ranked first in the last three district exams. I want to nominate you.”

I reached out to take it.

When my fingertips touched the paper, they trembled slightly.

The application form rustled softly in my grip.

I quickly pressed down on it with my other hand.

My eyes burned, my vision blurring bit by bit.

I wiped the corner of my eye with my thumb.

It came back wet.

In my past life, I had received a similar form.

I didn’t fill it out back then.

I was afraid that if I left for the city, my parents wouldn’t find me when they came back.

But now, I pinned that piece of paper down firmly.

As if terrified someone would snatch it from my hands.

“Sienna?”

The teacher called my name.

I sniffled, picking up the pen.

“Teacher.”

“I want to apply.”

I wrote my name down, stroke by stroke.

After school, the gates were crowded with parents picking up their kids.

I didn’t stop.

I folded the application receipt neatly, tucked it deep inside my jacket, and walked back along the path I came.

After walking a long way, I reached up and touched my chest.

The paper was still there.

I pressed it again.

Good.