Baby Fat

thirty-two

An average human being has probably never thought to hatch an escape plan. Most likely, they never thought they would have anything they'd need to escape.

Bradley never thought he'd ever really need one, but he made one. It's not a good plan, really. When his parents first started having their issues, Bradley promised that if one day issues at home ever got that bad, he'd use it.

Now, years later, he's searching for the stupid plan in his bedroom. He's already torn apart his bed, his desk, his dressers. He just needs to find it, and then he needs to leave.

He rummages through the back his closet. He's already searched the front, top to bottom.

He knows that he created it when he was twelve but he figures it couldn't have gone that far. He wishes he knew where he would've put it at age twelve. The possibilities are endless.

Bradley cheers in triumph when he comes across a familiar folder from the 6th grade. It has puppy stickers plastered on the front. Bradley vaguely remembers Corrie sticking them on the folder. Bradley smiles in a bitter-sweet melancholy.

He wishes that they were still that innocent and had no idea where they would be in the future. They were different people, they changed. As much as Corrie tries to convince them both that people don't change, Bradley has more than enough evidence to prove him wrong.

Bradley opens the folder, and his dumb little plan is the first thing to catch his eye.

His messy handwriting is scrawled across the top that says, "Bradley Cooper Johnson's Epic Plan to Escape." Bradley cringes, but laughs anyway.

Below his title, there are four items listed.

1. Find emergency money

2. Buy two tickets to a tropical island

3. Tell Julianne not to worry

4. Find Corrie and give him a ticket

Bradley frowns at the last one. Obviously, twelve-year-old Bradley had no clue that one day he'd need an escape from Corrie. They were such good friends before life fucked them up.

But, it wasn't really life who fucked them up. It's always the people who screwed them over. They spent everyday together. They had no reason to be apart.

With a sigh, he climbs off his closet floor and leaves. He goes back into his bedroom and looks at the suitcase on his floor. His suitcase is big, bulky, a disgusting color of orange, and surrounded by clothes and papers.

Bradley practically destroyed his bedroom. He closes the lid on his suitcase, sits on it, and then zips it up. He sighs in relief when it zips all the way. He packed almost everything he possibly owns, besides the fancy suits and shoes he won't need.

He takes his backpack and shuts it after stuffing in his phone charger.

He feels relatively prepared to leave the home he grew up in behind. Other than the fact that he has no clue where he's going to go or how he's going to live once he gets there.

His parents aren't home, no surprise there, and Julianne has already gone back to New York for rehearsal for her next show.

Bradley takes his things down the stairs and sits at the kitchen table. He grabs his laptop from his backpack and sets it on the table. Then, he begins searching for flights to Santa Monica.

It takes him all of ten minutes before booking a flight for the next day at four in the goddamn morning. Bradley took what he could get. Beggars can't be choosers.