Runaway

1 //

I grabbed my Polaroid camera and threw it in my bag. Thank god, I thought to myself. I was finally finished packing my few belongings; some old band shirts from the local thrift shop, skinny jeans, my signature pair of converse, and my IPod. There. That’s all I need. I opened up my small window that I shared with my foster sister, Mary. I shimmied out barely making it through. I looked outside, gloomy, cold and windy as usual for my town. I could not wait for a breath of fresh desert air. Shit, I forgot the note; I ran back and dropped the note near the window. I walked to the bus station looking over my plans on the way there. I already had my ticket; I had been planning this outbreak for years. I had been dreaming of escaping my hometown, my foster parents, and the kids at school. Everything. I hopped on the bus, and I was so excited, to move to where all those pretty lights were. 

………………………………………………………………………………………

A few bus rides, hitch-hiking and train rides, I arrived. In the sunlight, Vegas looked pretty hung-over. I still found it so welcoming and warm, no, it wasn’t just warm, and my God it was hot! I needed to get inside, so I walked down Flamingo Road until I found the Gold Coast Hotel. It wasn’t the prettiest place during the daytime but I was so relieved when I got there. I walked inside and a big wind of cool, smelly air rushed against my skin. I casually walked up to the tired looking, wrinkly, concierge lady wearing way too much cheap drugstore lipstick.

 “What can I get ya kid?” she said in a smoky voice. 

“One room please.” I said in the kindest way possible. 

“Brandon! Get your butt over here and help this young lady with her bags!” the lady said as a tall, king of weak, handsome man- no boy, sauntered over. 

“Room 316” the lady said to the erm- teen.

 “May I take your bags?” he said like a gentleman. 

“But of course” I said in a British accent, as a blushed thinking it was stupid. 

“So, are you just visiting here?” he asked curiously. 

“Um, I’m not sure what I’m doing yet.” I said truthfully. 

“Well whatever you decide to do, may I show you around mi ’lady?” he asked as he giggled adorably. 

“Um sure, why not?” I said uneasily. I have had serious separation issues ever since I could remember, because of my constant changes of schools and families and friends. I only had a few friends back in hell.

“Great, does 11 work for you?” he said. 

“Like 11 at night? Are you serious?” I asked cautiously. 

“Dead serious.” He said with a blank expression on his pretty face. 

“Yeah I guess.” I said cooly. 

I spent the rest of the day texting my old friends back at home. I already missed them so much. I loved it here but I would love it more if I had a few friends. I turned up a Coldplay song on my iPod and lie there on my tacky gold bed with the fan above me going at hyper-speed. I leaned over to the alarm clock and set it to 10 pm so I had time to get ready after my nap.

……………………………………………………………….

I awake at the sound of the irritating alarm clock. I rush out of bed to shower. I hadn’t showered in a whole week because my foster dad didn’t let me very often. This felt like heaven. When I’d gotten out I wrapped a fluffy towel around myself and plugged my blow-dryer in. It took me about 15 minutes to straighten my irritating wavy blonde hair. I got dressed in a black skater skirt (a very rare thing for me) and a Lana Del Rey t-shirt. I decided to not try very hard for Brandon and not wear any makeup. I sat down on the hotel bed and waited.