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Sure, there are cars passing by. People strolling the streets. It’s Friday night after all, and the weather’s perfect—not too warm, not too cold, the cloudless sky streaked orange from the fading sun.
But compared to downtown Allentown on a weekend…
A horn blasts into the night, and my gaze flits left to where a couple girls around my age run across the street, waving an apology at the pick-up truck that had to squeal to a stop for them.
My gaze follows the scantily-clad girls to where they slow to a shuffle in front of a familiar brick building, one I’ve only been in a handful of times growing up.
O’Leary’s Pub.
The sign is lit up green, making the brick surrounding it look more gray than red in the shadows falling over the street as night creeps in.
Lowering the volume on the stereo, I look around for somewhere along the street to park. There’s a back lot behind O’Leary’s, but it’s small and private—meant for workers and tenants only.
A block up, someone’s just pulling out, so I swiftly claim it.
One of the many benefits of city life: I’ve become a pro at parallel parking. I manage to nail it in one go.
Take that, DMV.
I shift into park and roll up my windows before killing the engine.
In the quiet, I flip down the visor to fix my hair, sifting my fingers through the curled, lightly gelled silvery-white strands. My darker roots are starting to show. I’ll need Gabe to touch it up soon.
Amber eyes peer back at me, and I wipe away a rogue lash, checking that my eyeliner didn’t smudge. I only wore a little bit—just a natural brown that Gabe promised no one would pick up on, when he first got me to try makeup months ago.
“Then what’s the point?”
“How does it make you feel? First word that comes to mind. Go.”
“Brave.”
“Exactly.”
Turning my head side to side, I take a moment to psyche myself up. With memories of all the times Gabe has hyped me up running through my head, it’s hard not to compare what I look like now to the guy I was back in January. The one who all but clawed his way out of this town, shoulders perpetually hunched, tangled blond hair curtaining his face, buried in as much shame as he was layers of fabric.
This town would’ve swallowed that boy whole if he didn’t break free. I see that now more than ever, as a flash of silver winks back at me from where I pierced my cartilage.
Like the barely-there eyeliner, it’s nothing crazy, but definitely something JJ would’ve been too chicken-shit to do. Just like chopping off my hair, and bleaching it and toning it to near-silver. Like the fact I actually brushed it, styled it so it’s off my face…
Even my clothes are nothing I would’ve risked wearing had I not moved away, and the fact that it’s just black skinny jeans and a thin, form-fitting black and grey raglan tee, with my sleeves rolled up to my forearms says a lot. Gone are the days where I’d bury myself in baggy layers.
Though, now that I’m here, memories of all the shit I’ve been through creeping forward, I can’t help but chew my lip and debate scrounging up a hoodie from the trunk. Wiping the makeup from my eyes. Tugging on a beanie.
I grimace at the thought, and shake my head.
Stop. You’re not that person anymore.
I didn’t spend months of intense therapy and pushing myself out of my comfort zone—making friends and going out and all but desensitizing myself to triggers—just to revert to my old ways the second I’m confronted with my past.
I might be back in Shiloh. But I’m here as the new and improved me. Not as the meek, anxious kid I was, crawling out of his skin and holding his breath, wishing for the day he could finally break free, and be himself. Be me.
Fuck what people might say or think. This town no longer holds any power over me. I’ve made a new home for myself. I don’t have to be here. I can leave at any point I feel unsafe—truly unsafe, and not just insecure and paranoid.
Fake it ’til you make it.
The voice in my head sounds suspiciously like my roommate.
My phone dings with an incoming message.
