You Knew This Was Empty, Right?

• Samantha De Los Angeles, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2010

Trees whiz past the foggy window and I smile weakly as I trace my fingertips on the window forming a wonky smiley face.
“Are you up?” Riley whispers hoarsely.
I make a vague noise and turn my body over, facing him. His brown hair remained unwashed for days, dark circles formed under his green eyes, the area around them a faint red from all the times he had rubbed his eyes awake. His hand reaches for the caffeine pills on the dashboard. His beautiful face scrunches in disgust of them. Then gradually, I see a dim light reach his eyes as he yawns the fatigue out.
I touch his arm softly, tracing lines up and down. Goosebumps form underneath the lines I trace.
“I love you,” I whisper into the chilly air of 4:23 am as I fall into the uneasy sleep of a car passenger.

I stretch my arms in the clean countryside air. He leans against the car a smile of amusement on his face. I look at him and let my arms fall by my side.
“Babe, can you believe we made it?” I say softly as I approach him, abandoning my uncomfortable sneakers on the way. The dewy grass tickles my toes. “Can you believe I made it?”
His smile grows bigger as he grabs my hand.
Who would have thought I’d make it? Out of my parents’ clutches. Out of expectations and responsibilities. I finally squirmed my way out of the tight cage they kept me in. I graduated Year 12 like they wanted me to. I got high grades. I got into a ‘good university’. I skipped the Last Year parties fuelled with cheap wine and bent cigarettes. I studied in my room like a good little girl and excelled.
And after all that, what did I do?
I packed up and left.

As mere Year 10’s, we’ve been avalanched with the question: ‘What are you going to do with your life?’
I finally have the answer: It’s not about if you go to a good university. It’s not about your Year 12 Enter Scores. It’s not about if you get a high-paying job. It’s not about gaining the providing husband and the two children and living in the cookie-cutter house and having the Holden parked in the garage.
It’s about how you feel about everything. It’s about being happy even if you’re just manning a phone or making coffee. It’s about coming home to that one person who will laugh at old ‘Friends’ reruns with you while you ignore your overdue bills.
Not everything revolves around your yearly income and what education you got. Especially not the best parts of life.

I don’t know when I’ll come back, or if I ever will. I don’t know when our money will run out or when food will be scarce. But I do know that I finally know where I’m meant to be.
Right next to him as the sun rises, far away from ‘home’.