Runaway Home: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

         Kristen was completely stuck in this dilemma now. It was getting close to 5:30 a.m. and she had to make a move. She wasn’t so sure anymore that she wanted to hitchhike to North Carolina, only having a hundred dollars or so with her that she’d managed to save from babysitting and odd jobs, and knew that wouldn’t get her far. The voice of common sense was winning out too. She may have been only fourteen years old, but wasn’t a complete idiot. She knew her plan was very dangerous, and had heard stories about kids getting snatched. However, she just couldn’t stand to be told that she couldn’t, or shouldn’t, do something... anything. It made her want whatever that ‘something’ might be, even worse. It was at its worst when she got mad, causing her to become almost driven, and until calmed down, would refuse to listen to any reasoning.

         Now that she’d had that time to calm down, without anyone trying to ‘rescue’ her, she had begun to finally listen to her voice of reason. Her problem, at the moment, was that if she went home, her dad would definitely be up by the time she got there. It would take at least an hour and a half to get back home. There would be a lot of explaining to do, and she’d probably be grounded although that prospect didn’t bother her too much. Even when grounded, her parents never took her sports away from her. They never kept her from going to practices or games. Being somewhat of a loner and an outcast meant she didn't have many close friends, and spent a lot of time in their basement rec room, listening to music, writing, and just hanging out. Grounding really had little impact on her.

         She thought again of the possibility of making it all the way to North Carolina, desperately wanting to be there. An adult would’ve tried to explain to her that she couldn’t run from her problems; that merely changing locations would not answer her prayers. But she would have argued until she was blue in the face. In her fourteen year old mind, everything she longed for was in North Carolina. Her biological mother, the family she’d never known, and even her sense of whom she really was. Her very identity was there. The times she had been in Charlotte, she had fallen in love with the city and the very way of life. The old cliché ‘southern hospitality’ was alive and well there. She had experienced it firsthand.

         She really had no idea what she would do once she got there, not having put a whole lot of thought into the future. She supposed she could go to her Aunt’s house, but of course, they would’ve just called her parents immediately. She had no idea how to go about finding her biological family, having very little information to go on. The few times she had talked to her adopted parents about it, they had tried to discourage her from even thinking about it, fearful that she would be hurt in the end. Not thinking about it however, was impossible and they would never understand that. She fantasized that someday her real mother would come for her and save her. She would finally feel as though she belonged somewhere and that someone truly cared about her. She would be accepted for who she was. That was all she really wanted; to feel like she mattered and that she was worth something.

         With that, her thoughts turned back to the stranger, Troy. What was it about this stranger that made her so angry and yet made her heart race like it had never done? When she thought about the way he had tried to talk her out of her plans, it made her furious. But when she remembered the way his eyes had looked so deeply into hers, with an openness she’d never seen before, she felt her heart lurch and her hands begin to tingle. And he had kissed her. Didn’t that mean he found her attractive? Or had he been trying to take advantage of her? No, her mind countered; if that were the case, he would’ve gone farther rather than stopping himself. A part of her had wanted him to go farther, and the other part was scared to death. It was crazy. He could be a serial killer for all she knew. He had an intimidating air about him and came across as somewhat of a 'bad boy', although she thought she detected a hint of something else under the surface; sadness or lonliness maybe. He was someone her parents definitely would not approve of, and that made him all that much more appealing. Not to mention the fact that he was twenty years old. In her naive mind, that was really cool.

         Oh well, she thought to herself. It made no difference now. He was gone and she needed to get home. She looked at her watch one last time. It was just past 5:30 now. She rose, standing on the side of the overpass, watching the big trucks pass underneath, some honking at her as they went. She loved the big eighteen wheelers. They were so powerful and in control. She longed to be in one of those big rigs, headed south while flirting with the driver, but there was that voice of reason again, and it had won this time. She had enough sense to know she couldn’t make it on her own, and knew she had to stay in school. Besides, she thought, she had soccer practice this afternoon at Bradley Road park and she always looked forward to that. It was one of the only things she felt she was really good at. So she started the long walk home, trying to come up with a legitimate story for having been out all night, and failing.

         The walk home was nowhere near as eventful. She made it back to the foot bridge in an hour and a half. It would be another ten minutes to get home. She lived in Park Ridge, a subdivision of about 400 upper middle class homes, all somehow managing to look similar in some way with their aluminum siding, two-car garages and lamp posts in the front yard. The houses were mostly split levels, the suburban sized yards a matching fertilized green that signified many Saturdays filled with yard work. Her house sat about midway down a street of forty or so houses, so as soon as she turned the corner, she was able to see it in the distance. She didn’t immediately see any movement or activity, but being Saturday morning, she knew her dad would soon be moving around outside, starting his Saturday routine. The day was starting out chilly, but without a cloud in the sky. It was going to be a picture-perfect, late fall day. Too busy to enjoy it right now though, Kristen was trying to figure out how she was going to get around her parents. Her mother was most likely already up and in her sewing room. Being a seamstress for a local bridal shop, she stayed very busy, sometimes spending the entire day in her sewing room. Just as she finished that thought, the garage door began to go up at her house. Right on schedule, her Dad was getting ready to wash both cars, cut the grass and clean out the garage.

         When she saw her mom’s white Buick being backed out of the garage, she quickly cut in between two houses and through the backyards to the next street over. She thought maybe she could stash her book bag in the backyard somewhere and sneak into the garage, hoping that by some miracle, neither of her parents had opened her door and looked in her room yet. Maybe she could pull this off.

         As she came through the backyards and into her own backyard, she ran quickly to the back side of the house. The sewing room, where her mother was undoubtedly already hard at work, was on the back of the house and Kristen wanted to remain unseen. She would have to wait until she got into the house to know whether or not she'd been successful. Her mother would definitely be waiting just inside the door to confront her if she had failed.

         Stuffing her book bag into the bushes, she edged along the side of the house and peeked carefully around the corner to see where her dad was. She couldn’t believe her luck when she discovered that he was over in the neighbor’s yard, talking to Mr. Davey, with their backs turned toward her. She quickly slipped into the open garage and carefully opened the door that led into the house.

         Pausing for a moment, she listened for sounds of movement from her mother. From upstairs came the unmistakable whir of the sewing machine. Quietly closing the garage door behind her, she crossed the hall to the basement door, and moving quickly still, descended the stairs to the basement, shutting the door behind her.

         'Ah...home free,' she thought to herself.

         Her mother usually only came into the basement to do laundry, but her dad, since it was chilly outside, would probably be down soon to fill his car washing bucket with hot water from the utility sink. She hurriedly fixed the daybed to make it look like she’d slept there all night, messed up her hair and jumped into bed. Then she remembered her coat and shoes. She got back up, removed her coat and shoes, shoving them into a dark corner, and then thought to turn her stereo on down low, as if she’d been listening to it and fell asleep. Again jumping into bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin just as she heard the basement door open. She turned on her side with her back to the stairs, hoping her Dad would not even notice her there. She heard him come down the stairs, going through the door into the laundry room, and breathed a little easier. The sound of running water confirmed that so far, he hadn’t noticed anything different. Then again, the door opening and the sound of her dad going back up the stairs, closing the basement door behind him. She let out a long sigh of relief, and her pulse returned to normal.

         She concluded that apparently, they had not looked in on her this morning and all was as usual. She snorted with contempt at how predictable her parents were, then turned on her back and lay staring at the ceiling. The night’s events replayed in her mind. She’d never had such excitement and the adrenaline rush was intoxicating. Now that she was back home though, the adrenaline quickly fading and the bed warming her, she realized how tired she was and began to drift off to sleep. The last thing on her mind as she finally dozed off was the thought of those crystal blue eyes, and the feel of his warm, soft lips on hers.