Living In Secret

Gone

Goodbye Daddy,I think to myself.I wish it didn't have to be this way.

Mom and Janey jump in starts the engine and drives away.She doesn't switch the headlights on until two blocks later.

My hands are cold and sweating.I wiggle them down into my pocket to warm up.Mom puts her arm around me and I lean against her.She keeps checking her watch.

"Watch your speed "she says to Janey."The last thing we need is to be stopped."

"I'm only doing sixty"Janey says, glancing at the rearview mirror.

Eventaially I see signs to New York City.

"We're going to the city?"I ask,sitting up.That doesn't seem far enough away.Daddy works there!

We're going to California"Mom says, staring straight ahead."You and Janey are going tonight.I'll fly out to meet you as soon as I can."

"You're not coming with us?"I ask, getting scared thought we were all going together.

"They'll look for us, Tasha,"Janey says.And if they find us, you'll have to come back and we'll be in big trouble.Your mom is going to throw them off the track."

Mom's arm squeezes my shoulders."Janey will explain everything to you later,"she says.I can barely hear her.

When we see the first sign for Kennedy Airport,Janey pulls over to the side of the road. Mom switch on the overhead light and pulls two hairy things in a plastics bag from under the truck seat. Wigs! Two black wigs!

Janey puts her on and it's long and straight. My wig is gathered on ponytail,tied with a real ribbon. Mom pins my real hair up bobby pins and helps me put the wig on. She fastens it to my head with little wads of pink tape, which I know will hurt to pull off. The wigs has bangs that tickle my forehead, but I don't complain. Then Mom removes hee her makeup bag from the glove compartment.

"This will make you older,"she says, fixing my face. She even puts a little mascara on my eyelashes. It doesn't feel as great as I always thought it would. In fact,it feel like sleep crust.

"Don't rub your eyes,"Mom says,taking a brand-new,folded-up windbreake out of ythe glove compartment. It is one of those big, pull-over-your-head kind with the zipper pocket in front, the kind I've been wanting for a while and bright red to match the hair ribbon in wig. I pull it on and try to smile.

We drive into Kennedy Airport just as the sun begins to rise. Planes are taking off and landing even at this hour. Everything is lit up for miles around. Janey pulls the truck into a parking lot and we get out.

Mom is crying and she asks me if I have the letter for Daddy. I took it out of the pocket of suitcase. She takes the letter out of its envelope and reads it silently. I wrote it three weeks ago, but I remember excatly what it says:

Dear Daddy, 

I am running away from home. I love you, but I don't want to live with you anymore. You're never home and Rosa is always on the phone with her friends. You don't need me around. Don't worry about me; I'll be fine.

Love, Amy

Everybody calls me Tas,except Mom and Janey, who call me Tasha , which is my real name. Daddy says Tasha is an old name maids' name, so he started calling me Tas when got custody. I was six then.

Mom puts the letter in her back pocket and bends over to hug me,making my neck wet.

"We have to go, Claire," Janey says