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The next morning, Francie and I lay on our beds and compared complaints. We both had blisters and other aches and pains, but we would live.
The day before, all I’d thought about was finishing the race, but now I started to worry about what was next. Mom had probably called the police about me running away, and they would pick me up and take me to a facility of some sort. Maybe, if I was lucky, it would be a foster home with nice people in it. I packed my suitcase so I would be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
After a long shower, we headed down to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast. Jess and Laney were already there, looking tired and worried. I wasn’t worried, though. Whatever was going to happen would happen. I was starving, so I ordered a giant omelet, bacon, and toast.
After we finished eating, Jess said, “Uh, Faye, I need to tell you something.” He looked sad, as if he were going to tell me I’d broken his heart in some way. But then his sad look turned to a happy smile. “Just playing with you. I’ve got good news. I called Coach Peters this morning to tell her you finished the race within her time frame. She said there’s a scholarship waiting for you if you get decent grades.” He lifted his coffee cup. “Here’s to you, Faye.”
I grinned and clinked my coffee cup with everybody else’s. Some days in my life were like the best movies I’d ever seen. I could almost hear the soundtrack of happy music in the background.
Then the whole thing fell apart.
“I’m sorry to have to wreck the mood, but there’s something I need to talk to you about, Faye, and it’s not so good,” said Laney, her voice thick with emotion. “Yesterday, I called Sue to tell her you’d arrived safely. She figured you might be coming here, so she hadn’t reported you missing. But she was worried out of her mind. I assured her you were fine. She’s coming up here on the early flight tomorrow to take you back to Raleigh with her. You’ve got a reservation. We’ll meet her at the airport.”
I felt as if the top of my head were going to fly off. “That won’t work,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I didn’t run away. I left home. There’s a difference. And I’m not going back there. Can’t I come home with you? Kyle’s room is available, isn’t it?”
Francie looked hopeful, but Laney said, “No, honey. Richard and I would be happy for you to live with us. You’re like our own daughter. I asked Sue, begged her even. But she wouldn’t budge. Remember back at your birthday party when she thought I was trying to take you away from her? Well, she thinks that even more now. And she’s mad at me, I think, that your dad got fired from his band. She thought all that was my fault, even though it wasn’t. She said she would have me arrested if I tried to take you home with me.” She wiped away tears with a napkin. “I’m so sorry, Faye. You can come and visit us whenever you want. Maybe Sue will let you spend the summer.” I shook my head, but she continued. “I wish things were different, but you’re only sixteen, so I don’t have any say in the matter.”
“I’ll run away again if you make me go back there.” I started to slide out of the booth, but Francie was in the way. I punched her to make her move, but she rubbed her arm and shook her head. I couldn’t believe she was siding with her mother instead of me, her best friend.
I flopped back on the seat. My voice rose. “I don’t care what you say. I will not go back to those people who aren’t my real parents.”
Laney sighed. “We’ve been over this and over it. We don’t know for sure they aren’t your parents. I’m sure Detective Hunt will be in touch soon. Until then, you’ll need to go back. And be patient.”
“Nooo,” I howled, not caring that everyone in the restaurant turned to look at me. The thought of going back to those people was unbearable. Francie wrapped her arms around me and made soothing noises. It didn’t help.
Laney quickly paid the bill and guided me out of the restaurant. My mind was filled with a dreary chant I must have heard somewhere: I have to go back. I have to go back. I have to go back in the morning. Every cell in my body screamed, but according to the law, I was too young to make my own decisions in life. No matter how many marathons I ran or how awful my parents were, it seemed that they could keep their tentacles in me until I was eighteen. I was so exhausted from fighting all the time that I wasn’t sure I could hold myself upright for much longer.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I said when we reached the lobby. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Running away again seemed like the best option, but I needed to figure out where to go. I did my best thinking when my body was in motion.
Laney shook her head, but I ignored her. She gave me a small, sad smile. “I know you’re mad at me. I hope one day you’ll see that I’m on your side.”
If that was what being on my side looked like, I’d have hated to see her working against me. The doorman held open the door, and I was about to walk through it when Laney caught up with me. “Here,” she said, placing some money in my hand. “Be careful. I’ll see you when you get back.”
I stormed outside and stood on the sidewalk, looking around at the tall buildings. Whatever had possessed me to think I wanted to live in a city? I could barely see the sky. There were people all around. A group of hippies at the corner played guitars and begged for money, men in suits carried briefcases and looked straight ahead, and cars honked. This was more people than I’d ever seen in one place, not counting the crowd at the race.
If I ran away again, where would I go? I had no idea, but I thought I knew who would. I walked to the corner where three girls and two boys, not much older than I was, stood chanting. They had long hair and wore tie-dyed clothes. I’d heard about hippies but had never actually talked to one before.
A girl with long blond hair parted in the middle smiled when I got closer. “Hi. How are you?” She tried to hand me a wilted daisy, but I shook my head.
I pulled out a dollar from the money Laney had given me and placed it in the tambourine she held out. “Hi. Could I ask you some questions?”
She nodded and walked a little away from her friends. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Uh, where would a person go who wanted to...?” I didn’t know how to finish my sentence.
She smiled. “Score some dope?” When I shook my head she said, “Live on the streets?”
I breathed out. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“A bunch of us have an encampment a couple of miles away, down by the river. You’re welcome if you want to join us. Come back here around seven tonight, and I’ll take you there. But we won’t be here long. We’ll be heading to San Francisco next week. It’s a little cold here at night, so bring a coat if you’ve got one.”
I bit my lip. “But what’s it like on the street? Do you go to school?”
She laughed. “No way. Listen, we’ve all left home for one reason or another. School isn’t part of our scene. We get by fine. What’s your name?”
“Faye.”
“Mine’s Moondust. You’ll get another name pretty quick. I’ll be thinking of something that might work.” She looked at her friends, and an expression passed over her face that might have been fear or something like it. Then she smiled at me. “Hey, I gotta get back. See you tonight if you want.”
I nodded and walked back to the hotel. I had seven hours before I needed to decide. I rode the elevator up to our room, trying to figure out if I should take my suitcase with me if I left. When I opened the door, I saw Francie sitting on her bed. She broke into a big smile. “I’m so glad you’re back. And I’m sorry about Mom making you go home. She didn’t tell me about any of this beforehand.” Spreading her arms wide, she said, “We’ve still got a day before we all leave, so what would you like to do?”
I didn’t want to tell Francie what I was considering. I didn’t trust her not to tell her mom. I plopped down on my twin bed. “Every time I hear the word Boston, I feel like there’s something about it I ought to remember. Even though I don’t recognize anything, I think I’ve been here before. I’d like to spend this day figuring out why it’s so familiar when my so-called parents said we never lived here.”
“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. “How do you want to go about doing that?”
My shoulders sagged. “I’m not sure. Let me think for a while.”
She lay back, and we stayed quiet for a long time. Eventually, I reached into the drawer in the bedside table and pulled out the city phone book. It was three or four inches thick. Opening it to the S section, I saw that there were probably thousands of Smiths. My dad’s real first name was Walter, and there were dozens of Walter Smiths. Looking in the phone book was not going to work. I dumped it back in the drawer.
Now what? Suddenly, I remembered the strange letter about the Boston Marathon that I had pulled out of my mom’s metal box and stashed inside the envelope with my birth certificate. I jumped off the bed and found the envelope at the bottom of my suitcase. Inside was the letter. The name and address on the back were:
Ronald Lafferty
1008 Eustis St.
Boston, Massachusetts
Francie and I stared at each other. “Do you know where this is?”
“Maybe there’s a map in the phone book.” I pulled the phone book out of the drawer again, and sure enough, one of the front pages held a map. “Here it is. Not too far. A couple of miles, maybe?”
She looked at me and shrugged. “I’m not sure I can walk a couple of miles today.”
“Me neither. But your mom gave me some money. Maybe it’s enough for a bus. Or a taxi.” I pulled a ten-dollar bill out of my pocket. “This should be plenty, don’t you think?”
Francie scrunched up her nose. “Have you ever taken a taxi before?”
I snorted and shook my head. “Have you?”
“No. I’m not even sure how to do it.”
“In the movies, the doorman at the hotel calls a taxi for people. Do you think that would work?”
She nodded. We headed downstairs. Before long, we were in a taxi, headed for Eustis Street. The car let us out in front of a tall two-story house with five windows on the street side and a short set of stairs up to the door. The only way it resembled the house I’d drawn so many times was that they both had two stories. There was no tree or swing, and worst of all, there were no dormer windows. Maybe Mom had been right and I’d mixed up several houses where my babysitters had lived.
We glanced at each other. I took a deep breath, walked up the stairs, and knocked on the door. A young woman with a toddler wrapped around her waist peered at us from behind the glass door. She smiled and opened it a crack. “Tell me you’re here to babysit, and I’ll pay you fifty bucks.”
“Uh...” I said.
She laughed. “A girl can dream, can’t she?” She paused. “How can I help you?”
I pulled out the paper. “I’m looking for the man listed here. Ronald Lafferty. Do you know him?”
She took the paper from me. “This is what the city sends out every year to warn us how to get around on race day. But this is from 1956. You’ve got the right address, but we just moved here three years ago, and I’ve never heard of this man. Why are you looking for him?”
“It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like going into it with a stranger.
“Sorry. I can’t help you.” She started to close the door and then opened it again. “I do remember the people we bought the house from telling us that a family who lived here during the ‘50s had some tragedy. I don’t have any idea what it was. Good luck to you.” She closed the door and locked it.
“A tragedy, huh? I wonder what kind of tragedy and if it involved you.” Francie gave me a look of concern.
We knocked on other doors in the neighborhood, but nobody knew anything about the Laffertys or their tragedy. Eventually, we gave up. No taxis came by, so we trudged back to the hotel, guiding ourselves by the map I’d torn out of the phone book.
Back at the room, Francie decided to take a nap. I lay on my bed, determined to think through my situation. Was I willing to be a hippie and chant on the street while I begged for money? I would be free, but I would be alone, except for the other hippies. I was down to less than twenty dollars, and that would go fast in a city. I had lived my whole life in small towns and farms. Boston felt huge and impossible.
And then there was the problem of college. Running away would wreck that dream, which was now, finally, within shouting distance.
Sighing, I admitted what I had to do.
* * *
MY FLIGHT TO RALEIGH-Durham was at ten in the morning, an hour before Laney and Francie and Jess’s flight to Orlando. They walked me to my gate, which was filled with arriving passengers who had just gotten off the plane. Those people all headed off to pick up their luggage—except for my mom, who looked around until she saw us. Her face was fixed in a scowl that appeared to have been etched into her features. She nodded when she saw me, but she didn’t smile or act happy to see me. I assumed she had gone to the trouble and expense of flying all the way to Boston to get me because she didn’t believe that Laney would really send me back. Or that I would really go. She was right.
Her eyes moved around our group. She ignored Francie and Laney and narrowed her eyes when she saw Jess. We moved toward her. She made no effort to embrace me or even to speak.
I introduced her to Jess, and she nodded briefly then reached up and slapped him in the face. He touched his cheek but didn’t say a word. He sent me a questioning look.
In a life full of bad moments, that was one of my worst. I was responsible for humiliating my friend, and I didn’t think I would ever forgive myself or forget the sadness in his eyes. As for Mom, her expression could have peeled the paint right off the floor. Boy, was I in for it.
The airline staff called for the passengers to board our flight. Mom walked ahead of me, out the door to the tarmac, and up the stairs that would take us onto the airplane.
Trying to cheer me up, Jess said, “It’s only a little more than a year until you can leave. You can do it. And then your own life will start, and it’ll be great.” It was nice to hear the words of encouragement. I had said them to myself more than once. But I wasn’t sure I believed them anymore.
“I’m so sorry, Jess. I should have...”
He gave me a hug. “Hush, child. You did the best you could. You’ve got other things to think about.”
I broke down then, and Francie and Laney hugged me between them like a sandwich. We stayed that way for a few minutes. But at the next call for the flight, I had to go. I rubbed my eyes with a handkerchief that Laney had given me and followed my mom onto the plane.
My seat was a few rows behind her, so we didn’t have to talk to each other. After we were airborne, I stared at the clouds and thought about how different this trip was from the one a few days earlier. Riding the bus north, I’d been excited and confident that my life was about to change for the better. Flying south, I was as depressed and frustrated as I’d ever been. The fact that I’d run the Boston Marathon wouldn’t make the slightest difference to my so-called parents. Although I would have a scholarship to college, I had to live with these people until I finished high school. And they were going to be so mad that I couldn’t be sure I would live to finish high school.
Needless to say, I wasn’t in the best of moods when the plane landed. Sue waited for me, and together we walked to baggage claim. She didn’t have any luggage, but I’d checked my little suitcase. I watched the suitcases travel around and around on the carousel, hoping mine had gotten lost and we would have an excuse to stay at the airport for a while. But no, it finally slid down the ramp. Mom grabbed it, and I followed her outside.
In the truck, she turned to me. “All right, missy. Now you’re going to tell me why you ran away.”
She knew I’d left to run the Boston Marathon, because Laney had told her. What more was there to say? She didn’t need to know that I hadn’t intended to come back or that I hated the life they made me live. I could feel her eyes stab into me, but I stared at the floorboard and didn’t respond. There was nothing to gain by feeding the flames of Mount Vesuvius.
She made a loud huffing noise and started the truck. As soon as we were on the open road and heading east, she let me have it. “What were you thinking of, running away in the middle of the night and not even leaving me a note? Didn’t you know I would worry? Your dad is out of his mind. He’s been drinking ever since we discovered you were gone, and he hasn’t done a lick of work. He’s going to be fired from this job before we’re even here a month, and it’s your fault. And I used all of our savings to come and get you.”
She went on and on. I thought about turning on the radio and tuning her out, but I didn’t dare. Mainly, I just watched the fields rush by and wished the minutes would pass as quickly as the fields. But of course, time dragged. I wondered how I would stand it for another year.
An hour and a half later, we pulled into the driveway of our shack. When we walked inside, Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, a six-pack of unopened beers in front of him and a trash can full of empties on the floor.
When he saw me, he slammed his palm down on the table. “Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Sunshine. Get in here. Sit.” He pointed at the chair in front of him.
I dropped my suitcase and pocketbook and sat down, keeping my legs tensed, ready to run if necessary. Mom sat in the other chair, a grim look on her face.
“You scared your mama to death, you know. I ought to tan your hide for doing that, and maybe I will. But right now, we’ve got some news for you.” He took a swig of beer then rubbed his forearm over his mouth and nodded toward Mom.
“First, you’re grounded at least until Christmas,” she said. “If you do everything we tell you and don’t cause any trouble, we’ll reconsider it after Christmas. And second, there will be no visit to Valencia this summer. Those people have been a bad influence on you. We never should have let you start running in the first place. Believe me, it won’t happen again. No more running for you.” She wrung her hands and licked her lips. I’d expected this, but it seemed that more was coming. A tingle of fear ran down my spine.
Mom and Dad exchanged a look. He took over. “You think you’re an adult, so we’re going to give you a taste of what it’s like to be an adult. Tomorrow, your mama is going to withdraw you from school. And I got you a job weeding the tobacco. Doing that for thirty acres should give you enough time to think about what you’ve done to your mama and me.”
It took a second for his words to sink in. They were making me quit school? Being grounded wasn’t so bad, but even this country school was better than nothing. I’d never get to college if I didn’t graduate from high school. And I might as well be dead if I had to work in the tobacco fields. The smell would probably kill me if I had to weed them for more than a day.
“You can’t make me quit school.”
“Oh, yes, we can,” said Dad. “Lots of kids in this area have to quit school to go to work. You think you’re special, but you’re not. The law says you can quit when you’re sixteen, and that’s what’s going to happen. Go to your room now. We’ll call you when supper’s ready.”
I was too stunned to move. This punishment was far worse than anything I’d imagined. Dad glared at me, his hand on his belt buckle. “Do what I said.”
It seemed that every day, I reached a new level of low. I’d thought I had nothing to lose before, but now I understood that I’d had a lot to lose. I might as well have stayed on the streets of Boston.
“No. I’m not a slave, and I won’t quit school.” I stood up and faced Dad, braced for whatever might come next.
He stood up, too, and leaned on the table for support. “That’s it, then,” he said, slurring his words. He unbuckled his belt and pulled it out. Doubling it over, he held it over his head. “Lean over that table.” He walked toward me.
“I won’t.” I was not going to let him beat me with that belt, but I wasn’t sure what to do. I glanced at Mom, who sat like a statue with her hand over her mouth. No help there. I had a clear path to the front door. I would pick up my pocketbook and... then it dawned on me. My canister of mace was still in my pocketbook.
But was any of the precious liquid still left in it? I couldn’t remember how many shots I’d fired at those rednecks. Whatever. It was worth a try. While Dad stumbled toward me, I raced to my pocketbook and pulled out the canister, cocked it, and aimed it at him. “Stop!” I yelled. “Put that belt down, or I’ll shoot you with this.”
“I gave that to you, ungrateful bitch.” He was standing right in front of me now, his arm raised, ready to hit my shoulders. I held my breath and pushed down on the button.
Nothing happened. I pushed down again. This time a few drops dribbled out. Not nearly enough to stop him.
He laughed. “Now get over there and bend over that table, unless you want me to hit you on your pretty face.”
I let out my breath and threw the canister on the floor. I backed up until my foot hit my suitcase. Turning around, I grabbed it and my pocketbook and raced out the front door, down the stairs, and into the driveway. I started walking down the road, wondering where to go. I didn’t dare call Laney, since she’d sent me back there. Maybe I could call Mr. Barrett and beg him to send me money for a bus ticket. He might take me in.
Better yet, I could call Detective Hunt. He’d told me to call him if I started feeling unsafe at home. I definitely felt unsafe. Maybe he could help, even from so far away. But I’d have to find a phone booth somewhere. The only phone booths I could remember were in town, three miles away.
I could easily run three miles. I stashed my suitcase behind a pine tree and hoped it would be there when I came back for it. Then, slinging the strap of my pocketbook over my shoulders, I started running.
In comparison to what I was doing now, the Boston Marathon two days earlier seemed like a joke. This time, I was running for my life. Bud’s temper was out of control. I knew he would come after me, and I didn’t think for a minute he would let me leave again. No, he would beat me within an inch of my life. Maybe even kill me. So every time I got to the top of a small rise, I turned around to make sure his truck wasn’t chasing me. I didn’t see it, but there were lots of trees in the way. I ran as fast as I could toward town.
And then, on the edge of the commercial district, I saw a phone booth. Please, please don’t be broken, I thought as I opened the door. It slammed shut behind me as I laid my pocketbook on the shelf and searched for Detective Hunt’s card. There it was, stuck in a pocket. I pulled it out and checked to make sure the truck wasn’t in sight. All clear.
I dumped out my change on the shelf. Putting a dime in the slot got me an operator. I gave her the number. She said, “That’ll be a dollar and twenty cents for the first three minutes.” Fortunately, I had four quarters and another dime. Only two quarters and two dimes left, though.
Someone at the Valencia police station answered.
“Detective Hunt, please,” I said.
The lady on the other end said, “Just a minute, hon. I’ll see if I can find him.” Before I could blurt out that I only had a few coins left, she put me on hold. I waited, sweat pouring from my forehead. Finally, when at least a minute had passed, he came on the line.
“Detective Hunt, this is Faye Smith. I...”
“Faye, I’m so glad you called. I have some news for you.”
I didn’t have time to hear it now. “You said to call if I felt unsafe. Well, I do. My dad tried to whip me with a belt a few minutes ago. I ran away. But I’m afraid he’s going to find me and take me back. He might kill me this time.”
“All right, Faye, you don’t need to say any more. Are you still in Greenville, North Carolina?”
“Yes.”
“Where, specifically? Do you know?”
“Yes, I’m at a phone booth at...” I craned my neck to see a street sign. “The corner of Darden Street and Fifth.”
“All right. Stay right there. I’ll send somebody to get you.”
Frantically, I checked behind me. And saw Dad’s truck. A block behind me. Dad was driving. Maybe he hadn’t seen me yet.
Neon spots danced in front of my eyes, and I felt ready to throw up. I made my voice as steady as possible and said to Detective Hunt, “He’s there. I see him.”
“All right, Faye. Do you know which direction is toward town?”
“Yes.”
“Then run toward town. Now. You’ll probably find a police station soon, or at least an open business. Go in there and wait. I’ll send a car for you.”
I dropped the phone, picked up my pocketbook, and tried to run like a cheetah or a gazelle—or any animal that could outrun a predator. I didn’t see a police station, and because it was Sunday, all the stores I passed were closed. I could hear the truck rumbling behind me, but I kept running.
Unless Dad was willing to run me over, I was safe enough. But this felt eerily like the time that Benny had run me off the road. For Benny, it had probably been a joke, but Dad was serious. I had to keep running until a police car found me.
A block went by. No police station. No open businesses.
Two blocks. Nothing.
And then I heard a siren coming toward me. I stopped running and stood on the sidewalk while I waited for the police car to find me.
The truck behind me stopped, too.
And then it began backing up.
I waved my arms over my head. The police car screeched to a stop. An officer rolled down his window. “Can I help you, young lady?”
“My dad. He was going to beat me with his belt. I ran away. He’s behind me in a truck.”
The officer glanced behind me and then turned his gaze back to me. “Are you Faye Smith?”
“Yes.”
“Please get in the car. We’ll take care of you. You’re safe now.”
As soon as I was settled in the back seat, I started to cry. An official-looking woman sitting beside me patted my hand. “Don’t worry, honey. We were on our way to get you anyway.”
Before I could ask any questions, the police car blocked the truck. The two officers in the front got out and headed toward Dad, their hands on their guns.
“What’s going on?” I asked the woman.
She hesitated. “A detective from Florida called us a few minutes ago and said to bring you in right away. We were on our way when he called again and told us where you were.” She hesitated and then patted my hand. “We’ve got some news for you.”