Page 1 of Run Away With Me

1

Born to Run– Bruce Springsteen

My feet and shoulders were aching, and my breath kept catching in the back of my throat, like the panic was rising up and snatching the air before it could reach my lungs. To distract myself, I repeated the same mantra, over and over.

Get to the bus station. Get on a bus. Go.

It was a comfort as I walked, the words falling into the same rhythm as my footsteps. I needed a distraction, to keep my mind focused on something other than the absolute horror I was leaving behind me.

I glanced up from the sidewalk and wondered how late it was. The sun was starting to set, bathing the city in a peach glow. It couldn’t have been that long since I’d gotten off the bus, maybe an hour at most. But in that time, everything had changed.

Night fell slowly as we edged through spring, the city on tenterhooks with winter jackets packed away and bare ankles on display. Over the past few days the famousSeattle rain had fizzled out and the last of the chilly nights seemed to be behind us.

Get to the bus station.

Get on a bus.

Go.

I had to keep going, had to keep myself distracted, because hot bile kept pushing up from my stomach and the acidity was threatening to spill out of me at any second. I really didn’t want to spew on the city streets – partly because that would be so gross, and mostly because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. All this would be for nothing if someone saw me leaving.

My ear and jaw still throbbed from what had happened this morning. I’d gotten up and showered, then braided my hair so it fell to the middle of my back, keeping it out of my way for school.

Then he hit me.

After that, I unpicked the braid so I could let my hair hang loose around my face and hoped no one would notice the mark on my cheek.

Not that anyone ever looked that closely at me anyway.

All day I’d been pressing my tongue to my back tooth to see if it was still loose, and every time I’d tasted blood. Now, my feet hurt from pounding the sidewalk, my shoulders were sore from the combined weight of a backpack and duffel bag, and I had a headache blooming behind my eyes. Luckily, I was good at ignoring pain. I’d take a couple of Tylenol when I got to the bus station.

Get to the bus station. Get on a bus.

I forced down my self-pity, knowing it wouldn’t help me.

Go.

And then her car pulled up.

‘Mouse?’

Brooke drove a red vintage convertible Mustang. The top was down, and she was leaning out of the window, her face etched with concern. I focused on the car for just a moment too long and my whole body violently contracted –bloodred, dark and shiny, like the way blood pools on polished tile … I forced myself to look at Brooke instead.

‘Hey,’ I tried to say nonchalantly.

Brooke Summer was the most beautiful girl in our whole school. It wasn’t just me who thought it, either – it was a widely agreed-upon opinion. She had deep, dark-brown eyes with tiny gold flecks in the irises and defined cheekbones that made her look elegant and mature. She was still wearing our St. Catherine’s uniform, so her lush, dark hair fell in effortless waves over the crisp white shirt she’d unbuttoned at her throat.

In school, she always said hello to me, even though she was one of the popular girls and I was me. She didn’t have to be nice, but she was, offering me small smiles when we passed in the hallway or inviting me to sit next to her in Chemistry lab. We were in the school choir together, too, so every week for an hour I got to stand two rows behind her and look at the back of her head.

I liked to admire her from afar.

‘Do you need a lift anywhere?’ Brooke asked, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in a distracted pattern.

I hesitated for a moment, because my plan was a good one. But it was going to take me another hour to get to the bus station on foot, and time was against me. I needed to go,now.

‘Could you take me to the –’ I couldn’t saythe bus station, that was too obvious. ‘To Chinatown?’

To her credit, she didn’t ask me why I was going there with a shoulder full of bags, but it was the closest place to the bus station I could think of under pressure.

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