Later that afternoon, my family came up with our “escape plan.” My mom and dad had already taken Brady to grandma and grandpa’s, so we decided he would stay there while Mom took a couple of days to get the police moving on the Flip and Fawn investigation. Dad and I would fly out with the Swiftriver gang in the morning, and then Mom and Brady would join us in a couple of days. Everything seemed smooth except one thing:
“What am I going to tell TJ?”
“The truth,” Dad said. “Tell her we’re going on a surprise vacation and you’ll call her as soon as you can.”
It sounded easy. But I couldn’t do it. I knew TJ would ask tons of questions and I would probably end up saying too much. So I just turned off my phone.
Lying in bed that night, I stared at my ceiling and wished I could do the last few months over.
God, my life is so different now, and I’m not sure I like any of it.
If only I hadn’t gone to Dad’s office that day. If only I hadn’t seen the shoes. If only I hadn’t wanted to be a big shot. I could have played the whole season of softball, and I’d probably be staring at a four-foot-tall championship trophy right now. As I fell asleep, I prayed that this real nightmare would be over soon, and in the meantime, that I wouldn’t have any more ridiculous dog dreams.
When I woke the next morning, I noticed that someone had put two more suitcases in my room. A note was hanging on one of them:
Make sure you pack all those Riley Mae shoes!
Ah, yes — the shoes. Those stupid things that got me into this whole mess. I pulled all of them out of the closet and threw them into the suitcases. Softball cleats, hikers, running shoes, cross-trainers . . . shoes for anything that might come my way on this unexpected “vacation” at the “secret cabin.”
“Great. No room for anything else.” I plopped down on my bed and pounded my pillow a few times while I tried to figure out where I would pack the rest of my stuff.
Hurry up, Riley. You don’t have time for a temper tantrum. You’re on the run, remember?
I grabbed my backpack. Maybe I could shove some clothes in there if I emptied the books out. One of the books I pulled out was my Bible.
I opened it up to where the little tinfoil bookmark said “Ephesians 6,” the part about putting on the armor of God. I grinned a little as I thought of my crazy brother wearing all the pieces of armor that we made in children’s church. My eyes stuck on verse 15:
“For shoes, put on the peace that comes from the Good News so you will be fully prepared.”
I put the Bible on the nightstand and took a deep breath. Okay, I could do this.
You’re always tougher than you think.
I quickly threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and put my hair up in a ponytail. I grabbed a couple big tote bags from the closet and started shoving stuff in: phone; phone charger; favorite clothes; secret chocolate stash; toothbrush; softball glove; picture of me, TJ, and Rusty eating brownies; and a little stuffed Panda bear that Brady gave me for my birthday.
Dad came up to help me take some of my bags. “Do you have everything you need?”
I scanned my room. How was I supposed to know what I would need for this crazy trip? “Yeah, I think I got it all.”
“Good. Well then, let’s go.” He clunk, clunk, clunked my suitcase all the way down the stairs. He hollered back up. “I can see you didn’t forget the Riley Mae shoes!”
I looked back at my bedroom one more time. When would I next sleep here? I grabbed my pillow and tucked it under my arm. The pink blanket I got at the hospital peeked out at me from under my bedspread, and I threw that around my neck.
That’s when I spotted my Bible on my nightstand.
“Whoa! Can’t forget the Good News shoes.”
Mom yelled from downstairs. “Riley, please tell me you’re ready.”
I tucked the Bible under my other arm and grinned.
Whatever happens next, I’ll be ready.