Seventeen : Hit The Road Novels & Stories

Then Helen and Richard left, saying that they would come to see me tomorrow. Jeffrey stood outside the door, hesitant to leave. "Audrey, we can never be together again, right?" Hearing this, Kash wanted to go up and hit him, but I stopped Kash. "Yes. "I’ve been unhappy for the past seven years. Jeffrey, how many seven years are there in one’s life?"

That was enough to distract Gwen who showered Royce with kisses while saying, "Oh I am so proud of you Roycee-boo! What a great way to start the day!" This time, August was watching them. She looked happy for them but also disgusted by them. She turned to me and said, "Weirdos," while rolling her eyes. Royce then toured us to his photo exhibit. Thirteen pieces of photos which he called The Last Year of Seventeen– his concept was the final year of highschool. The final year of freedom and youth. The final year before we are faced with bigger challenges and choices that would actually impact our lives. Most of the photos were taken in the Academy. Some in the Liberty Mead with Royce’s horse. M

I had five days and I hope it would be more than enough. Three hours later, I had one that she would love, a 2017 red Fiat 500. I called the owner and agreed to meet today to speed things up. A few hours later we were shaking hands and agreeing on the last details. Turns out the owners, a young couple, are going on a world tour and selling everything they own. When I told them that it's an eighteenth birthday gift for my daughter they included two cute Bluetooth speakers in the deal. I'll keep that for myself.

The endless blaring of car horns from rush hour rang in my ears. My father, Michael Stern, was already unconscious, laying in the lap of my mother, Edith Christian. We were stuck at an intersection. Outside the car window, my husband's colleague, Francis Light, in a police uniform, was looking at me icily. He said, "Everyone is stuck here. If I were to clear a path just for you, others would call it a misuse of power. Daphne, are you just trying to get me in trouble?"

Three years after my release from prison, I ran into my ex-wife in the presidential suite of the most exclusive hotel in Bayshore. It had been years since I last saw her. She was draped in a silk robe, radiating wealth. When she recognized me, something unreadable passed through Cecily Monroe's eyes. "On the day you got out, why didn't you wait for me to come pick you up?" I said nothing and handed over the takeout. Her gaze dropped to the scar on my wrist, and her breath caught. "I went too far with that. But you've always been tougher than Adrian. You can always get back on your feet." She was talking about what happened six years ago, when Adrian Burke was involved in a catastrophic

The sun, relentless and unforgiving, beat down on the dusty path leading from the servants’ quarters to the main house. I was ten, and the path was etched into my memory, every pebble, every crack. It was a route I knew intimately, yet one I was rarely allowed to fully explore. My world was largely confined to the small, neat rooms behind the imposing mansion, a world of hushed conversations and the ever-present scent of cleaning products and warm food.

The next few days were strange. We were tender with each other careful not to press too hard on the bruise forming between anticipation and loss. We talked about logistics. Dates. Time zones. We laughed more than necessary, like laughter could preemptively soften the ache. But underneath it all, something churned. One afternoon, I found myself staring at an old photo on my phone. Seventeen-year-old me. Seventeen-year-old her. Her arm slung around my shoulders. My smile reckless and unguarded. We looked like people who hadn’t learned yet how much loving could ask of you.

I have to talk to dad regarding the car, allowance like I need it for something. Looking around the town, Rowena is really boring. On the route I am going I can see some bakeries, coffeehouses, restaurants, people running somewhere, I wonder if this town has an elite area, and where it is. I am standing in front of Rowena Highschool, my only goal today is not to kill anyone and just to stay as invisible as I can, see how things work, and step aside. I just want to finish this and see what the hell I am going to do with my life later. Entering the school I asked the guard where the principal's office was and started walking that way. The school does not look that bad, it looks poor but I gues

WINTER I hit the road like I’m on a mission from the universe...just me, my dusty Audi, and a playlist full of songs I’m too stressed to sing along to. She—yes, I’ve named the car “she”—isn’t moving as fast as I’d like, but we’re moving. That’s what matters. An hour in, I feel confident. Three hours in, I feel hungry. By the fifth hour, I’ve officially learned a valuable life lesson:

Until the right girl finally shows up wearing pink Vans and a heart big enough to hold the world. I’m home. And the dream that waited thirty-four years just smiled and went back to sleep. Its work is done. Seventeen Thursday, July 19, 2028 – 12:01 a.m. I turn seventeen exactly when the clock flips to midnight. No big party. No rented venue. Just the ridge, the pack, and the people who would burn the world down before they let it burn me. The bonfire is normal orange tonight (Seras promised to behave).