One Day Soon (One Day Soon, #1)(8)

I was gone two days that time. I slept on Amanda’s floor until her dad realized I hadn’t gone home after the first night and all but threw me out on my backside. His loving indulgence clearly only included his daughter.

This time though, magic number three, I left with no delusions of a concerned mother. I didn’t expect her to scour the streets looking for me. I wasn’t trying to get attention. I wasn’t having a tantrum.

I was just tired of being invisible. I’d rather be on my own than living with the constant reminder that I was a non-entity in my own house.

“Good for you, babe. You did the right thing,” Amanda assured me. I pressed the phone to my ear and peered out the smudged glass and shivered, even though it wasn’t cold.

“Are you sure? I mean, what am I supposed to do? Where should I go? Can I come to your house?” I asked, sounding so, so small.

“I wish you could, Imi, but my dad would never allow it. You know how he was last time.”

I had nowhere else to go.

Someone banged on the door and I startled. I could see the dark outline of a very large figure standing on the other side. “Hurry up! I need to use the phone!” the person shouted.

“I guess I could head to the warehouse on Summit,” I considered. I was starting to feel panicked.

“That’s a good idea. There are lots of kids down there. I remember some of them being pretty cool when I’d hang out with that * Dez. Plus you’re totally cute, someone will take pity on you.”

“That’s not very reassuring, Mandy,” I muttered, picking at the rusted metal phone cord.

“Don’t be such a worry wart. You’ll be fine. But I’ll try to get out to see you in a bit.”

The guy banged on the door again. “Get the f*ck out of there or I’ll drag you out!” he yelled.

“I’ve gotta go,” I said hurriedly.

“Okay, I’ll find you, Imi. Just head to the warehouse.”

The door opened and the phone was yanked out of my hand. I was all but shoved out of the booth by a very large, very impatient man. He snarled at me with a mouth full of yellow teeth and I scrambled away.

I tripped and fell, landing hard on my knees. The sun was just setting and small fires were being lit in trashcans. A few guys were riding skateboards along the cracked pavement. A group of kids no older than I was, were smoking cigarettes and sharing French-fries from a bag.

My knees were bleeding and I pulled pieces of gravel from my skin with shaking fingers.

I had run away from home.

I had nowhere to go.

I was a teenage freaking runaway.

“You okay?”

I looked up, shielding my eyes from the late evening sun. A guy holding a plastic convenience store bag and a skateboard under his arm stood above me, his eyebrows arched questioningly.

My hands were wet with blood and my cheeks were stained with tears. I quickly wiped my hands on my shorts and stood up on unsteady feet. My stomach was twisted into knots and I shivered again, but didn’t respond.

“Do you have a thing against answering questions?” he chuckled and I scowled.

I straightened my shoulders and flipped my long, brown hair over my shoulder, lifting my chin in a show of strength I didn’t feel. “I’m fine,” I said firmly.

The guy dropped his skateboard onto the ground and rolled it back and forth underneath his foot. He cocked his head to the side and gave me a disbelieving smile. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared indignantly. “You don’t know me.”

The boy couldn’t have been much older than I was. His too thin face was angular in a way that indicated he had only just lost the roundness of childhood. He was skinny, his arms long. His legs longer. But he was lovely to look at. He had a chiseled beauty that would have been perfect on a runway.

But this kid was no model, nor would he ever be one. His green eyes were hesitant and cautious; his skin marred with at least a dozen scars, some more vivid than others. And those were just the ones I could see. His black hair was messy and on the long side, but clearly not by choice.

His clothes were threadbare and worn. His sneakers had holes in the sides and were missing laces. I could see his collarbone jutting prominently.

This guy had been on the streets for a while. So even though we were roughly the same age, his face held a maturity that mine didn’t.

He flipped the board up onto its back wheels and picked it up again. He shrugged. “Whatever. I was trying to be nice. See ya around.” With a look that was entirely too sympathetic, he turned and walked towards the group of kids smoking by the broken fence beside the river.

Way to make friends, Imogen, I berated myself.

I was on my own now. I couldn’t afford turning down niceties. I pulled on the hem of my too tight shirt. I felt exposed. Vulnerable. And that wasn’t good when you were surrounded by strangers.

“Hey sweet thing, I haven’t seen you around here before.” A guy wearing a hoodie appeared beside me. I couldn’t really see his face and that bothered me. He gave off a vibe I didn’t like. A cigarette hung from his mouth, ash falling onto his shirt.

I looked away, ignoring him, hoping he’d leave me alone if I were rude enough. I could see the skateboard boy was still hanging around. He was sitting on an overturned trashcan, eating something from the plastic bag he had been carrying.