Run(63)

Not that I could see if someone was behind me. I hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights when I came downstairs. I was regretting that now.

But then my thoughts shifted to worry. What if something was wrong? What if it was Gracie? What if something had happened to her? What if someone was calling in the middle of the night because the thing they were calling about couldn’t wait until morning?

Another ring, and this time I moved toward the counter, using both hands to feel for the phone. It only took me a second to find it and answer.

“Hello?”

And that’s when I heard her voice. The way it shook as she said my name. “Agnes?”

That’s when I really got scared.

“Bo? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“It’s Mama,” she said. “She got arrested.”

“What? How do you know?”

“Heard on the police scanner.” She sounded half out of breath, like she was moving around her trailer as fast as she could. I heard rustling and the sound of a zipper.

“Bo? What’re you doing?”

“They’re gonna come here soon,” she said, the panic rising in her voice. “I told you, Agnes. I ain’t going back into foster care again. No f*cking way.”

I felt like all the wind had been knocked out of me. Like I’d fallen and landed hard on my chest. Because I knew exactly what she was gonna say before I even asked the next question.

“What’re you gonna do?”

She stopped. For a minute, I didn’t hear any more rustling, no more movement on the other end of the line. Just Bo, trying to catch her breath before she said it.

“Run.”





I know it must take the Atwoods hours to get to me. But everything after that phone call comes in flashes.

I’m lying on the floor with my face in the carpet, which smells like liquor and piss.

Then the door’s opening and Agnes’s daddy’s picking me up like I’m just a sack of potatoes.

And then I’m lying in the backseat of their car, my head in Agnes’s lap as she whispers, “You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’m right here.”

“Should we take her to the hospital?” Mrs. Atwood sounded so far away, even though I could see her in the front seat.

“I don’t think she’s got insurance,” Mr. Atwood says. His voice is coming from a distance, too. It’s like I’m underwater, listening to the conversations happening on the shore. “She’s just drunk. She’ll be all right in a little while.”

“That bottle was empty,” Mrs. Atwood says. “And she’s so small …”

“Bo,” Agnes whispers, her fingers combing through my hair. “What happened?”

It’s too bright. I ain’t never seen the sun so bright. I gotta shut my eyes, but I can still see it through my lids and I’m worried I might puke again, but I don’t wanna do it in the Atwoods’ car because they already hate me.

I have to push the words out. Because saying them makes them true. Makes the pain worse.

“He … didn’t want me.”



The next time I wake up, I’m somewhere familiar. I’m on a pallet on Agnes’s bedroom floor, one of her stuffed animals resting on the pillow beside me. Utah’s there, too. Curled into a ball with her face pressed to my stomach. She ain’t asleep, though. Her big brown eyes are wide-open. Watching me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her.

My throat’s real dry and my head don’t feel great, but the dying feeling has passed. Now all that’s left is the guilt.

I hear voices down the hall. I figure they must be coming from Agnes’s parents’ bedroom.

“You can’t call social services.” It’s Agnes’s voice, fierce and desperate. “That’s the whole reason she took off. They put her in foster care before and it was awful. You can’t send her back there again.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Mrs. Atwood says.

“Let her stay here.”

“Agnes.”

“I’m serious. Why not?”

“For starters, it’s probably best for you and Bo to get some distance,” Mrs. Atwood says. “Y’all aren’t good for each other right now.”

“That’s not true!”

“We just spent twenty of the last twenty-four hours driving back and forth across the state because you two decided to run off together,” Mr. Atwood says. “We filed police reports. Had to go get Gracie’s car from a stranger’s house, and worried ourselves sick. Sorry if we’re not too keen on the idea of letting you two live under the same roof at the moment.”

“Damn it, Daddy. This is why I went!”

Both me and Utah jump. We still ain’t used to the sound of Agnes yelling. I hope we never have to be.

“I made the choice to leave. Bo didn’t make me.” She doesn’t tell them I lied to her. And I’m glad. They hate me enough as it is. “I didn’t go just to joyride. I went because she was scared and I couldn’t let her go alone. And because … Because the idea of being stuck here, trapped here, without her makes me wanna die.”

“Agnes.”