Three Thousand Steps to Nowhere Novel – We were barely twenty minutes into the drive when my brother Ethan Vance piped up from the back seat. “What’s one plus one?” I opened my mouth, but the words stuck in my throat. “It’s—” Mom backhanded me before I could get the answer out. “I went to Princeton. Your father has a PhD from Cambridge. Your brother’s been acing math since kindergarten, and you can’t even answer one plus one?” Her voice dripped with disgust. “You’re pathetic.” My cheek stung where she’d hit me. Fear made my stomach drop.
Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. “Mom, please. I’m not stupid. Ethan said—” The car screeched to a halt on the shoulder. Mom unbuckled her belt and shoved me toward the door. “You didn’t inherit a single brain cell from either of us. Get out. You can walk the rest of the way.” I chased after the car, but Dad was already pulling back onto the highway with Ethan still in the back seat. A massive truck plowed into me, and suddenly, I felt weightless. Just like that, I caught up to their car. “Mom! Dad! I’m not worthless! I’m good at art! Even my teacher says I’m special!” *** “The average child’s stride is one to one-point-five feet. I did the math.
Three thousand steps will get you to the rest stop.” Mom’s face appeared in the window gap, cold and unmoved. “Consider it punishment. Maybe it’ll motivate you to be smarter. Maybe then you’ll actually belong in this family.” She leaned back into the passenger seat, not even looking at me. I stumbled after the car, my voice breaking. “Mom, please don’t leave me!” The window slid down halfway. Something small and black came flying out and landed at my feet—a camera. “That’s a CloudCam.
It’ll be watching you, so don’t even think about slacking off.” She paused. “Stay on the shoulder. Don’t get yourself killed.” The window sealed shut with a mechanical hum. I stood there watching as the car merged into traffic, the red taillights shrinking to pinpricks before vanishing completely into the night. “Mom, it’s freezing out here.” The weather report that morning had said fourteen degrees. Mom hadn’t let me bring my coat. I picked up the camera and stared into the lens, my breath fogging in the cold air. “Mom, I’m not stupid. I’m the best artist in my whole class. I promise I’m smart too.” The camera stared back at me, silent and unblinking. I wiped my nose with the sleeve of my shirt and started counting. “One.
Two. Three.” The cold pierced through my clothes, turning each breath into a white cloud that dissolved in the darkness. My counting slowed, and my steps grew heavier. By the time I reached one thousand, my legs felt like they were made of stone. I tripped over something—a piece of debris, perhaps—and went down hard. Pain exploded through both knees. Everything hurt. I held up the camera with shaking hands, tears streaming down my face. “I’m sorry, Mom. It really hurts. I just need to rest for ten counts.” Ten counts—that was Mom’s go-to punishment number. Ten slaps across my palms.
Ten smacks on my legs. Ethan never got punished—he always won Mom’s little games. Ten counts used to feel like an eternity when Mom hit me. Now they passed in an instant. When I finished, I forced myself back to my feet. I started walking again, each step sending fresh pain shooting up my legs. Blood soaked through my jeans where my knees had split open. Only nineteen hundred and seventy steps left until I reached Grandma and Grandpa’s place. They were expecting us for Christmas dinner. The cold sank deeper into my bones with every step.
White spots started dancing across my vision. I lifted the camera, my words coming out in ragged sobs. “Mom, I don’t think I can make it.” Blinding light flooded over me from behind. Somewhere in my stumbling, I’d wandered into the middle of the lane. When I opened my eyes again, my body felt weightless.