Page 48 of Run Away With Me

‘I will!’ she said. ‘This was the plan until you came along. I could’ve maybe rinsed more out of my family’s credit card, but I was always planning on, you know, liberating what I needed.’

‘Stealing, you mean.’

‘If you want out, you can stay up here,’ she said. I could tell she was baiting me.

‘No,’ I said. Then again, with more conviction. ‘No, I’m in.’

She grinned, in that cat-like way of hers. ‘Excellent.’

It was only early afternoon, so we left the hotel still wearing jeans and T-shirts, and walked the half-block to Target so Brooke could pick up what she needed.

Being back in a big city put me on edge. I was waiting for the moment someone tapped me on the shoulder, a police officer put their hand on my arm, someone in the crowd shouted ‘Jessie!’ and I’d know I’d been recognized. I felt my anxiety flare every time I met someone’s eye by accident, or a police car drove past us, or a sign told usTHESE PREMISES ARE MONITORED BY CCTV. It didn’t feel anywhere near as safe as those tiny towns in the middle of nowhere.

I wasn’t ready to cut this road trip short, to give up the precious freedom that it had given me. The freedom was a gift, one I’d never expected and now never wanted to let go of.

I wasn’t ready to let go of Brooke, either. If we ever did end up back in Seattle, I couldn’t be sure whether she’d treat me like she did now or like she had before – friendly but cool and distant – and I really didn’t want to find out. Despite my restless anxiety, Brooke seemed calm, like this was a regular Friday afternoon shopping trip to pick up hair ties and tights.

‘We need to make you look not like you,’ she said.

‘That shouldn’t be difficult.’

Brooke stepped back and assessed me, head to toe. ‘I think you could pass as a college freshman.’

‘You think?’ I was acutely aware that I was often mistaken for being younger than seventeen, rather than older.

‘Yeah. Why not?’ Brooke grabbed a shirt and thrust it at me. ‘Hold this.’

‘I’m not sure it’s my size.’

She pointedly rolled her eyes at me. ‘It’s cropped, Jessie. On purpose.’

‘Oh. Oh no.’ I held the shirt out to her, desperately hoping she’d take it back. ‘I can’t wear this.’

‘Why not? Do you have a giant tattoo on your stomach that no one’s allowed to see?’

No tattoos, and my bruises had faded into barely there shadows, so I couldn’t even use that to my benefit.

‘I am not a cropped-shirt kinda girl.’

‘Exactly.’ She turned to me and put her hands on her hips.

Shit.

‘You’re not supposed to be you. You’re supposed to be a college student.’

I didn’t have a good response to that, and Brooke smiled, knowing she’d won.

‘I need to find you some props,’ she said and turned on her heel, stalking off into the darker depths of Target. I followed her wearily, still questioning whether this was a good idea.

‘Run it again,’ Brooke said.

I rolled over to bury my face in the pillow and groaned. ‘No.’

We were back in the hotel room, chilling out before the evening, and Brooke was determined to have me repeat our story until it became second nature. No more tripping over my lies.

‘Jessie,’ she said, her voice stern. She’d started calling me Jessie all the time now, and I was happier about that than I’d ever tell her. ‘Run it again. Who are you?’

‘Jenna Roberts.’ I rolled back over to stare at the ceiling. Coming up with a new last name had been simple – my dad’s name was Robert, and Jenna was starting to roll off my tongue easily enough.

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