The thought of spending a cold night outside in that scary meadow freaked me out. I almost missed the “something” about the voices in the lunchroom, but “female minor” put me on alert. I peeked far enough into the lunchroom again to see two uniformed officers showing something to some of the lounging staff, who were shaking their heads. Maybe it was my ID.
I bolted. Walking double-time down the hallway, I darted back under cover when two nurses left their station. I ended up back at the hallway intersection. Which way to the emergency exit? Hiding in the meadow was better than spending the night at juvenile hall. Then my brain kicked in. There was an exit sign on the wall, pointing to the right corridor. Duh.
I cruised through the intersection and down toward the exit. The closer I got, the louder the voices got at the end of the hall. I plastered myself against the wall and peeked around the corner. There, talking to police, between me and the exit, was my Uncle Greg.
He didn’t look too happy. I don’t think I’d ever seen him looking so uncool, except when he’d been drinking. He must have jumped out of bed. I didn’t even know he was in town.
Grandma never told me he was coming. Maybe Marty’s little lecture had worked, or maybe he’d come for me. If that was the case, we were starting off totally on the wrong foot.
I strained to hear what they were saying. The words made no sense, but I could tell how they felt about the whole thing. This sick feeling came over me, and I broke out in a sweat.
I backtracked to find the bathroom where I’d first cleaned up. I went in without turning on the light and quietly locked the door. Panting and sweating, with my stomach doing triple axels, I slumped to the floor and put my head between my knees. I could get through this. I had no choice.
The whole idea had been pretty stupid. I wasn’t any closer to finding Grandpa, but I was a whole lot closer to doing time. The nurse had called the police, or maybe Marty had.
Was Marty mad, or worried about me, or both? I wondered when she’d finally realized I was gone. I felt like a rat, scaring her like that. She didn’t deserve it. She had always been nice to me.
The nausea passed. I felt completely alone in the world—a black hole where a person used to be. I curled up on the floor in a fetal position. The floor tile was cut into a million little squares, all in rows, still sandy from people’s shoes. The grit of it dug into my cheek. The toilet gurgled and stopped, knocking far away down the pipes inside the walls.
Reaching up, I locked my finger in the wedding rings and wished Mom and Dad were with me. Lying on the cold tile in the dark, I knew they weren’t there and would never be again. Would Marty?
When I left this bathroom and got out of the hospital, I might as well keep on going. Who would want me now? Who wanted a stupid kid who was trouble? I wondered what they did with runaways in Pine Run.
I prayed harder than I’d ever prayed in my life. I told God that I had really, really screwed up this time. I asked Him to help me, because the police were out there. And Uncle Greg. My stomach ached when I remembered his angry face. And I don’t … I don’t think M-Marty wants me anymore. I stifled a sob with my arm and pushed my mouth against it until I felt teeth marks breaking the skin. I didn’t care. I deserved it. I deserved bad things.
I pulled on the chain so hard, it snapped and stung the back of my neck. Then I remembered the verse Mom had highlighted about me being the “good thing” that God had given her. If she could see me right then, she might rip that page out and light it with a match.
No. No, she wouldn’t. It was like a voice spoke those words inside me. No, never. She would never.
Mom loved me, no matter what. No matter what.
I remembered Marty in that silly Halloween costume with the cat ears and the whiskers that wrinkled when she smiled. How she was always taking pictures with her fingernails in front of the lens. That funny, dreamy look on her face when I told her about my Disney pins, and how she cried as though we hadn’t only broken Ginger’s ornament, but also her heart. How something stupid like a thank-you could make her cry. The times I’d stepped away from her touch so I wouldn’t feel the heat of her hand.
But as many times as I stepped away, she’d kept right on tucking a stray hair behind my ear or squeezing my shoulder or patting my arm. What if she never wanted to touch me again?
Suddenly, I knew I didn’t want that to happen. “Please, God,” I said. “Help me. Send Marty.”
Voices went by outside and paused. Someone knocked on the door, and I jumped away. A few seconds later, they moved on. Silence.
I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and took some toilet paper off the roll to blow my nose. It’s almost impossible to blow your nose without making any noise whatsoever.
I stared at the door. It could be a trap. Maybe they just made it sound like they were leaving. I pressed my face to the floor, looking for feet in the hallway. There were none as far as I could see in either direction. This was my chance. The bathroom was no longer safe. The janitor would come to clean and find me. It was now or never.
I noiselessly unlocked the door and turned the handle, opening it so just a sliver of light showed. I peeked outside. It was clear.
Look natural, I told myself. I forced myself to stand up straight so I wouldn’t attract attention. Who was I fooling? A kid in the hospital at this time of night? I might as well wear a neon sign.
The emergency exit was the fastest way out. It was also the only way I knew. Stopping at the end of the hall, I peeked around to check it out. The floor was strangely quiet. Maybe something was up, or it was just a lucky break for me. Maybe Wednesdays were slow nights. Emergency looked empty. A radio played smooth jazz somewhere.
There was so much open space between me and the exit doors. But if I could get to them, they would automatically open, and I would be outside before they knew it. They’d never catch me in that meadow.
Voices came behind me down the hall. I turned the corner and ran for it. I heard my name and running feet. I was almost free.
I slammed on the black matting in front of the sliding doors that triggered them to open. I lunged at the glass. Bam! I hit the glass like a bug on a windshield and bounced off hard onto my bottom.
They didn’t open. The stupid doors didn’t open. I pressed my palm onto my forehead. That really hurt. Little shooting stars. Ow.