Runaways

Chapter 2

Allie

“Adventure must start with running away from home.” -William Bolitho

   That’s what I’m doing. I’m running away from home.

Don’t judge me. I’m not one of those selfish spoiled teenagers who are running away from her parents because they refused to buy her a cell phone.  My parents leave me home alone every day to fend for myself. They don’t even leave food. I have to find my own food. But it’s hard, considering I can’t get a job with school to think about, and they usually don’t let 12 year olds get a job where I live.

But I never let myself starve. Even with little money and nothing in the fridge, I can find food. I have a few crops in my backyard. I’ve learned how to take care of them, and how to keep the bugs and snakes away. I’ve also memorized a book from the library that shows which berries are poisonous and which berries are safe to eat. I even learned how to steal food from 7-11 without getting caught.

And where are my parents, might you ask? They’re probably out getting drunk at bars. Usually I go months without speaking to them, seeing that I fall asleep at about 11 o’clock every night, while they get home near 5 a.m. every morning, and I wake up around 7:30 to get ready for school, and they wake up God knows when.

When I’m not stealing food or “tending my crops," I’m reading. I spend hours at the library. After I do my homework, I usually fit in time to read a book a day, or at least 400 pages. I stay at the library from 4:15 p.m. to around 7:30 p.m. I often spent my time at the library reading and writing and promising myself that someday, it would all get better.

I wasn’t alone. At school, I had five very good friends who all had problems with their parents, whether they were alcoholics, abusive, or just bullied them. Mary, Elizabeth, Dario, Oliver, and I all called ourselves the “Fail Group,” We’ve all had enough of our parents, and we all plan to do something about it. Or rather, we’ve spent months planning about what we’re going to do about it.

It’s about 3:45 a.m. right now. It’s no surprise that my parent’s still aren’t home. I’ve packed a small bag and I’ve found a black beanie which I’ve cut three holes out of: two for each eye, and one for a nose.

At 3:57 I hear two knocks on my window. Exactly eight seconds later, another three knocks. Shaking, I slowly walk over and open the window.

“Dario?” I whisper.

“Give me the mask. Elizabeth says she’s ready so we have to hurry up,” Dario replies. Still shaking, I toss the mask over to him. “I need the gloves, too. Do you have your knife?” Dario asks.

“It’s in the bottom of my bag, along with the bag of gloves. I also have the clothes I wore at school today. Did you already fake your death?” I whisper, as I put the plastic gloves on his hands using tissue paper.

“I did. I wiped my blood on the slide on the playground at Eagle Park, and I buried my shirt nearby.”

“Good. Where did you put the knife?” I asked.

“I buried it with my shirt, like you and Elizabeth said I should.”

“Okay. I’ve got clothes, my parent’s credit cards, the knife, the gloves, the clothes I’m going to bury, and my cell phone. Am I forgetting anything?” I asked.

“That’s all I packed,” Dario said.

Without another word, I grabbed my bag and jumped out of my window. I didn’t wait for Dario, but began walking to the park. A few seconds later I heard a thump and Dario was walking behind me. We walked in silence the whole way to Eagle Park.

At 4:15 a.m. we arrived. A few days earlier I had decided that my death scene would be in front of the basketball court.

“Are you ready?” Dario asked, his voice muffled because of the mask covering his mouth.

“Yeah,” I muttered.  I threw an old sweatshirt that I had worn at school the same day near the basketball hoop. “Can I have the knife?” I asked.

Before I knew it I felt a sharp slice right under my wrist. “DARIO THAT HURT,” I hissed. I felt the blood trickle down my arm. “It was deep, too!”

“Wasn’t it supposed to be deep? How else would you get enough blood?” Dario asked.

“Ow. Ugh. It just hurts,” I said. I wiped the blood on the basketball hoop pole quickly and grabbed a glove to wrap around my wrist. Before I could get over the pain in my wrist, Dario quickly pulled a hair from my head and covered my mouth to muffle my scream. I almost slapped him.

“This was your plan,” Dario reminded me before I could reprimand him again.

“Okay. Did Lizzie text you back?”

“Yeah. She’s in her room,” Dario replied.

“Okay. You go to the golf cart garage at the golf course. It’s not far away from here, just go to the entrance of the park and turn right. I think we passed it on the way here anyway,” I said.

“No, I’m coming with you. I want to see Elizabeth,” Dario demanded.

“Are you sure?” I asked

“Why would I not be?” Dario questioned.

The walk wasn’t far. In just five minutes we could see the light from Lizzie’s bedroom window. I took out my phone and dialed her number.

“Alright, I’m coming down,” Lizzie whispered into the phone and then quickly hung up. I saw her walk over to her window and slowly push it open, however, even from all the way below her window I could hear it screech-- loudly. Lizzie froze and turned her ear towards her door. She then stepped out of her window and onto the roof, and then climbed down her ladder. She was rushing herself, and soon there was a thump and Lizzie was laying there, sprawled out on the grass.

Dario and I quickly reached out to help her up, however she regained her balance quickly and pulled us away from her house. “Run,” she hissed.

And we did. All of us sprinted towards the park. What would have been a 5 minute walk turned into a 2 minute run. Before I knew it we were all hunched over on the dock of the lake at Eagle Park.

“What happened?” Dario gasped.

After I caught my breath, I stood up straight and looked at Lizzie. I knew Lizzie’s parents beat her up, but I’d never seen her this bad.  Her eyes were swollen and black, and she had severe cuts all over her face and all up her arms. She had bruises everywhere. Seeing her like this, I didn’t want to have to cut her, like the plan suggested. Lizzie would often take a week’s break from school because she said her cuts and bruises were healing, but I’d never taken the time to imagine her with cuts and bruises all over her body. Lizzie often did her hair really nice for school, and she always did her makeup perfect. A lot of the boys at school had crushes on her. Seeing Lizzie like this… she wasn’t even recognizable.

“It’s nothing…” Lizzie mumbled. She turned around but Dario caught up to her and held her hand. Using the other hand, he placed something shiny in her palm.

Lizzie looked back at me and I could see how long she had been waiting for this moment, right in her eyes.