Between the Lines

Seventeen - Calvin

I'm running away. Sitting around my house sulking won't bring Oliver back. It's done nothing but get more things taken away from me. But before I run off into the unknown, I need to plan. Too many on the spot decisions have screwed me over. Too many people tell me I think too emotionally, so I'll force myself to plan for as long as I can. I need to know what to pack, where to go, what to look for, what to do and what not to do. It hurts my head having to consider so much and pushes my stability to the edge, but the more and more I start moving, the more adrenaline I feel pushing me along.

First, I'm going to have to pack enough to keep me presentable, but not too much. I pace back and forth, trying to think of a plan. I don't have any leads as to where Oliver is. There isn't much that I know about his life in Lower-class. I don't even know anyone else who knows him. So what can I do? If I go out to look for him, there isn't a good chance I'll find him, but at least it will feel like I tried. I'll go out and spend a few days in the Middle. I'll find a place to sleep for one night and nap in the library if I get too tired. I can go to the places that we went, talk to the people we know, wait at the station I always dropped him off at. And if I can't find him, maybe I'll play my cards a little riskier.

After drafting out a plan, I focus on what I'll need to take with me. I don't need much, just the necessities. I grab a few days' worth of comfy, not so Upper-class looking clothes and dump them in a pile on my floor. I'll need toiletries too. Just because I'm running away doesn't mean I'm going to act like personal hygiene doesn't exist. I take deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste, body soap and shampoo, put them in a toiletry bag and dump it in the pile along with a towel.

Quietly, I rummage around my room trying to imagine what I would need. Cash will be important. As much as I want to, I can't take my debit card in case my parents track my spending, leaving a direct path to wherever I am. It took some searching, but I managed to stack up just over $200 and slipped it into my wallet. I'll also need something warm just in case I get stuck outside for a night, so I grab a jumper and a small blanket and a torch, then add them to the pile.

I go to find a charger for my phone but hesitate as I open the drawer. Maybe I won't need my phone, it will probably be easier if I don't take it. I mean, I should in case there's an emergency. But I don't need to be tracked, or called constantly, and I'm willing to leave it behind even if it means I'm putting myself at risk. All I care about is finding Oliver, and if that means leaving my phone, then there's no harm done.

I inspect the size of the pile and grab a bag to suit. It's a small sports bag, nothing too big, mainly because that would be annoying to carry everywhere. Then I packed the pile away into the bag and heaved the strap over my shoulder. I take my time to sneak around the house, hoping I haven't forgotten anything important. The good thing about my house is it's tiled so it's easy to sneak around on compared to creaky wooden floorboards, but in the dead silence of the night, even the smallest sound can echo all throughout the house. With the threat of noise, the possibility of me successfully grabbing a packet of chips and stuffing it into my bag without making enough noise to wake the house up is looking pretty unlikely. So, I decide on some snacks that have a smaller chance of plan-threatening noise and add them as well as a large drink bottle to the bag.

Now, I have to get out. I can't take my Mercedes because I have no clue where the keys are, and I don't want to waste my money on keeping the tank full. My fancy car and unique number plate will also be a dead giveaway as to where I am if my parents, or anyone, goes looking. So, I'll walk instead.

I weigh up my options and decide to leave through the small side door near the garage. It's the only door, or window, without a security camera on it and the easiest to get out of. If I was caught leaving on camera, my parents would immediately go to the police, have them issue a missing persons file on me and use anything they can find to help the search, so it will help a lot if I can leave as little evidence as possible. I creep through the door, making sure it locks behind me, and slip into the darkness. I trace the path that I know so well, the one that weaves straight through the blind spots of the cameras. This is the only time I've been thankful for my past of sneaking out and getting into trouble.