On the next morning, I had woken up to find that the car is moving on its own. Like a glob of butter ready to churn, the vehicle's black wheels ventured forward, not minding the pieces of rock scattering across the road.

Adjusting my eyes, I simply glanced at my reflection to find my hair looking like a raccoon's nest, disgusting pimples growing on my forehead, and Austin's soft blue quilt cradling me.

In the meantime, New York is raining; dribbles of colorless rain fell from onto the flustered vehicles to New York's concrete floor.

Although I can see the drizzling raindrops, I can hear nothing but the sounds of angry pattering assaulting Kristy's SUV. Streaks of glass-like liquid slithered onto the windows but were perturbed by windshield wipers.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Back and forth, the slick, black windshield wipers swept away from any trace of liquid, dirt, or insect blocking the driver's gaze.

And speaking of the driver, I turn my lazy head to see a scrawny, pale boy on my left, driving Kristy's SUV.

Dark brown curls swept away from his tired eyes, as Austin's firm hands gripped the steering wheel.

For his clothes, Austin wore an olive green t-shirt, long khaki pants, gray socks, and black Addidas. And as for his disguise, he had on a backward Yankees baseball cap, and a pair of thin-rimmed, dark-tinted sunglasses, covering his eyes.

"Ugh, " I groaned, shielding my face.

"Rise and shine, Shakespeare." Austin beamed.

I stretched my arms then yawned.

"Hi, " I said, flashing him a tired smile. "How do you still have the energy to drive at—I peered at the alarm clock—six thirty in the morning?"

Austin shrugged his shoulders. "I think it's the coffee."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "You had coffee while I was napping?"

He nodded.

"Why?" I ask. "Aren't you tired?"

Austin shakes his head no, then continued staring at the road. "While you were sleeping, I bought us some breakfast and filled up the gas tank."

Sitting inside the right cup holder is a wrapped MacDonald's Egg McMuffin sandwich and a brown paper cup filled with finely brewed coffee.

"Oh," I say, yawning again. "Have you already eaten?"

Austin bobbed his head. "Yeah, the Mocha latte and Egg McMuffin are yours to eat."

Stretching my arms again, I picked up the brown paper cup of coffee, opened the cap, blew the steamy black liquid, and take a long satisfying sip.

Like a dry sponge, my pink tongue absorbed the scolding hot taste.

The beverage was sugary, almost as if I am drinking a bottle of darkened Coke, but when the liquid sloshed around my mouth, I tasted the milk; it wasn't as rich or creamy as the coffee itself, but it was tolerable for a sweet-tooth junkie.

"Ugh," I grunted again, setting down my coffee. "Where the fuck are we?"

"Well, we just left MacDonald's," explained Austin. "Right now, we are heading to John F. Kennedy's International Airport."

Wiping away my tired eyes, I take another sip of coffee.

Although its touch nearly singed my tongue, I didn't mind the sweetened cream and sugar one bit. In fact, the coffee tasted a lot better compared to the watery coffee shit at home.

Placing the cup in its holder, I put the lid on top of the steamy beverage, unraveled my egg sandwich, licked my lips, and took a dainty bite.

Pieces of soft bread, melted cheese, steamy egg, and greasy sausage stuck between my teeth as I chewed the sandwich very carefully, hoping not to ruin Austin's quilt.

"How long have I been asleep?" I ask, swallowing my morsel of breakfast.

Austin shrugged his shoulders as he drove South. "I don't know, maybe five hours?"

My eyes widened. "I have been asleep for the past five hours?"

Austin nodded. "Yeah, I didn't know if you wanted to wake up, so I let you sleep."

"Were you sleeping too?" I ask.

"I was," he began, sighing. "but I was having trouble keeping my eyes closed."

I frown, lowering my egg sandwich. "How come?"

"I just didn't feel like sleeping, that's all."

"Maybe when we get to the airport, you can get some rest?" I insisted.

Austin gives me his brightest smile. "I'll be fine, Jack."

"A perfect sleep creates the perfect day, Austin," I stated as a matter of fact. "And besides, while you get some sleep, maybe I can organize the script for our movie."

"Based on what?" Austin sighed. "All we have is a fucking movie title."

"Well, we can use your ideas from your comic book," I suggested. "It has a lot of action and drama."

"But I haven't finished it yet," Austin sighed.

"Okay then," I turn my head over to his direction, "Start from the beginning: tell me everything you have written so far."

As I devoured my sandwich, Austin told me the entire story about Billie St. Marie's past: a sullen teenage girl whose mother has died from heart cancer.

After attending her funeral, she was sent to live with her grandparents, but because of Billie's depression, her grandmother takes her to a town in Australia, so Billie can meet her long-lost uncle named Cookie.

"What can you tell me about Cookie?" I inquired.

"He has been off the radar ever since Billie's dad disappeared." Austin went on, peering at the clear road.

He resumed his journey on Hilton Road when Austin had spotted a red stoplight. Though annoyed, Austin slowed the vehicle down then waited for the traffic lights to turn green.

I hear him cuss, "goddamn traffic lights" underneath his tired breath.

Worried, I asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing," Austin sighed again. "I am just anxious to get to the airport."

"You need to sleep." I reminded. "Maybe I should take over."

Austin shoots me a look. "You mean, drive a car?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"The last time I had checked, you told me that the DMV is pointless." 

I rolled my eyes. "Have you seen the DMV? It is like, swarmed with people."

Austin shakes his head in annoyance. "I thought you don't like going there because of the written tests."

I groaned; it's true that I didn't care very much for tests, but at least I know how to drive a stick-shift.

"Anyway, in my soon-to-be graphic novel," began Austin. "Cookie used to serve in the Armed Forces, but he got sent home."

I glanced at his way. "Why?"

"Because A) Cookie isn't the most popular man in his unit, " Austin claimed, "and B) he had shrapnel lodged into his left arm."

"Shit, " I murmured. "that must have sucked."

Austin nodded as the traffic lights switched green.

"Yeah, " he agreed. "it sucks a lot."

"Well, I like it," I remarked. "It has a great storyline, killer script, amazing characters maybe we can use them for our movie."

"Yeah, but I haven't added any more lines to my comic," he retorted.

"That's why you have me," I smirked.

Chewing my food very slowly, I reached for a napkin when I noticed a folded piece of brown paper tucked underneath my coffee cup.

Oh, I thought, feeling embarrassed. I guess I hadn't noticed it before.

Picking up the napkin with my fingers, I gently dabbed the corners of my mouth.

Crumbs and saliva smeared on the paper napkin; the grease from the eggs and sausage stained the brown texture, as I crumbled the napkin into a ball then slurped my coffee.

"Thanks for the breakfast," I say.

Austin smirked at me. "No problem."

As he resumed his driving, I carefully sipped my coffee again, then stared out the window.

Nothing but rain and condensation clouded my gaze; bullets of falling water formed puddles lurking among the streets.

Inspecting the dreadful scene, I grumbled, "New York is getting really dreary these days."

Austin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, well what can you do, Jack? It's not like Florida."

"I want to go to Florida," I say boredly.

Austin grimaced. "I hate Florida."

I stared at him for a second. "How come?"

"I hate the sunny weather." he groaned. "No rain, no bad shit, just the fucking sun burning your face 24/7."

"Dude," I sigh. "I said Florida, not the fucking Sahara Desert."

"Well, it feels like the fucking Sahara Desert to me," Austin grunted, "and did you know that there isn't any snow in Florida?"

"Really?"

Austin nodded, taking a left. "No snow—just cold temperature."

"I know Florida has shitty weather, " I say. "but at least it has Disney World."

Austin grimaced. "I want to go to Disney World SO badly, but Olivia hates Mickey Mouse."

I snorted in disbelief. "She hates Mickey Mouse?"

"More like Olivia hates the mascot,"  Austin explained. "Kristy and I don't know why."

"What about Universal Studios?" I suggested.

"My moms used to take there when I was little, " Austin explained. "but now that Olivia and Kristy are clashing Pride-related activities with my busy schedule, it's kinda hard leaving the apartment without doing any chores."

Suddenly feeling bored, he turned on the radio and switched a few channels until he listens to the tingling sounds of a lustful piano escaping the speakers.

His delicate fingers froze at the dial, but later, pull them away as the music filled the car.

During the ride to the airport, Austin bobbed his head to the rhythm; milky-white fingers tapped furiously against the dark leather steering wheel as he drives along the rain-drenched road.

Taking in this unusual image, I noted: "I didn't know you listen to Jazz, I thought you like hip-hop."

"I do," Austin says, blushing. "I just feel like listening to Dave Brubeck."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "Dave Brubeck?"

"Yeah, he was a piano player in the 60s'," Austin replied. "Back at 78th Haven, Kristy and Olivia would play jazz music while they bake monkey bread in the kitchen."

I smirked. "You are so full of surprises."

"Are you flirting with me?" Austin joked.

"Fuck you, Austie." I laughed, playfully punching his shoulder.

"Fuck you, Jackie," says Austin, intimidating my voice.

We continued joking around when I heard something moving in the back seat.

"What was that?" I inquired.

Austin gives me a puzzled glance. "What was what?"

It sounded as if a child is kicking the back of my chair.

Quickly, I listened to the noise again, but then it quickly disappeared.

"I thought I heard something," I murmured, swerving my head to confront the noise.

Once again, I tried to hear it again, but instead of loud scuffling, I saw a young girl—probably fourteen or fifteen—lifting her head up to see my shocked face.

"Holy fuck!" I cried. "Austin, look at this!"

Sighing, Austin paused near a red stoplight, turned his head around, and spotted a little girl with dirt-smeared black hair, bright brown eyes, and light coconut skin. Besides her anorexic weight, the homeless girl wore nothing but a gray tank top, ripped black jeggings, and dark purple sneakers.

Taking a long look at her, Austin noticed the girl's appearance while I examine a brown, threadbare blanket, covering her legs.

"Oh, God." I thought.

She must have been crashing here for the night—probably sheltering herself from the cold or unwanted company.

Immediately, I felt pity towards the girl.

Trembling at our gazing eyes, the girl quickly yanked her blanket then cradled it, like it was her own personal doll.

Leaning towards her, I give her a kind smile then said: "What is your name?"

The homeless girl didn't respond—only held her blanket tighter.

"Are you hungry?" I ask.

No answer.

Looking down at my sandwich, I decided to help her out by giving her the rest of my food.

"Here, eat this." I insisted. "You'll need your strength."

The homeless girl quickly shakes her head no.

"Don't treat me like an idiot," I scolded. "I know you are hungry. Are you hungry?"

The girl nodded.

"Good, now take the sandwich."

Reluctantly, she plucked the Egg McMuffin from my hand, unraveled its wrapper, and ate it wholeheartedly.

"Austin, start the car," I commanded. "We are taking her with us."

Austin frowned. "Are you sure? The police might be looking for her."

I give him a doubtful look. "We are not kicking her out of the streets."

"But what if she did something crazy?"

I rolled my eyes. "Jesus Christ, she's just a little girl."

"I know that," Austin begins to say. "but I am not sure if we should tag her along."

"Start the car, Austin," I say politely.

He shakes his head. "This girl might have a family. We can't just take her away—that's kidnapping."

I let out an exhausted sigh.

Austin may have a point, but there was no way in hell I am letting a girl go back to wherever shithole she's living in.

"Look, I know you are complete Boy Scout to the rules," I reasoned, "but the truth is, I don't give a damn about them. In fact, I don't like being told what to do."

"So shut the fuck up, start the damn car, and for once in your life, be grateful that this little girl has someone who gives a shit about her! Understand?!"

Austin clamped his mouth shut and nodded.

Then glancing at the homeless teenage girl, I told her to buckle her seatbelt and sit very still.

Obediently, the homeless girl quietly sits in the back seat, buckles her seatbelt, but she looks down at her shoes as if she was on punishment. 

In the meantime, Austin, who is completely terrified of my no-nonsense tone, quickly started the car then drove below the speed limit.

Satisfied, I leaned my head back against the headboard, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the sweet bliss of rain entwined with Austin's alluring jazz selection.