I was downstairs in the kitchen, sullenly swallowing cold mashed potatoes, when I heard Mum shriek my name—my full name, all twenty-seven letters of it. I glanced over, feeling murderous and morbidly curious as to what new crime I was guilty of now. She thundered down the stairs, my backpack looped over one arm, and something in her other hand.

"Harrison-Addison Madison Redde!" she screeched, her voice higher and shriller than I'd ever heard it before-just what was she so livid about?

She shoved it in my face—she was holding a package of cigarettes.

"What are you thinking?!"

"W-what?" I asked, bewildered and gawking.

"Harrison-Addison, I found these in your backpack! What on earth are you doing with cigarettes?!"

I was stunned—"Mum, I've never seen those before in my life!"

"Then how did they get into your backpack?!"

"I don't know!"

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying!" I shouted, standing. It was the truth—smoking was one of the last things I'd ever do! Cigarettes were disgusting! I'd always yelled at Bryce whenever he smoked around me because it smelled so terrible and was so bad for him.

Mum hollered for Dad, her squat body heaving as she panted like a dog.

"I was searching in Harry's room, an I found these in his backpack!" she exclaimed, handing him the little box. Dad took it, and his tiny eyes widened. As I watched, his brow furrowed, and his face darkened.

"Why were you searching in my room?!" I demanded.

"GODDAMNIT, HARRISON!" Dad exploded, and I recoiled at his tone. "What the hell are you doing with cigarettes?!"

"They're not mine!" I yelped, the pitch of my voice skyrocketing. "I have no idea how they got in my bag! I don't smoke! I hate cigarettes!"

"Did you find that out before or after you smoked these?"

"Dad!" I cried, exasperated.

Dad shook the box, and hearing it mostly empty, opened it. His eyes, already dark and dilated, expanded threefold. Mum glanced over his shoulder and gasped. Dad reached into the box and pulled a small, burnt butt out of the box and held it up for me to see. But it wasn't a cigarette butt.

It was the remains of a marijuana joint.

"Harrison Redde," Dad hissed, his voice low and trembling with fury, "this is an illegal drug. What are you doing with DRUGS?!"

"It's not mine!" I screamed, my voice hoarse.

"YOU COULD GO TO JAIL FOR THIS!" Dad roared, jabbing the joint at my face. "I should have known there were drugs—with the way you've been acting, I'm not surprised!" He curled his fist and crushed the joint under his fingers. "I can't believe this! My son has drugs!"

"I'VE NEVER SMOKED OR DONE DRUGS IN MY LIFE!" I screamed. This was crazy! I was straightedge—I'd never touched drugs, cigarettes, or alcohol once! "Why don't you believe me?!"

"If it's not yours, then why is it in your backpack?" Mum demanded. "Are you covering for a friend?"

"Of course not!" I screeched, incredulous. "I don't know how it got there! Someone must have planted it there!"

Mum threw the backpack at me. "Oh, wonderful, now we have a conspiracy theory! You're just making it worse—give us the truth!"

"I am telling the truth—why won't you believe me?!" My good eye was burning with tears, and my whole face was hot—this was crazy—being punished for something I'd done was one thing, but this time I was innocent! And why had she been snooping in my bag in the first place? What was she looking for—drugs, alcohol, a gun? Did she honestly think I was some kind of juvenile criminal?

"What reason have you given us to trust you?!" Mum hollered. "We used to trust you, but lately, I see no reason to! You were suspended, you ruined your clothes and dyed your hair—you snuck out when you were grounded! Give me one good reason why we should trust you!"

"Because I wouldn't do something like that!" I cried desperately, my voice cracking.

"You wouldn't, huh? This from the boy who gets in fights and sneaks out and thinks he's the Goddamn king of the world?!"

I felt tears on my cheek. "Goddammit, bitch, I'm telling the truth!"

In one quick movement, Dad struck me across the face with a force that sent me sprawling across the floor and shot my vision into blackness.

"DON'T YOU EVER CALL YOUR MOTHER THAT AGAIN!" Dad bellowed, his voice thunderous and rough as sandpaper. "YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

On the floor, my head spinning and my face throbbing, I burst into tears—my father had just punched me!

"I'm sorry," I whimpered. Desperately, I lurched to my feet and ran through my splotchy vision until I made it to my room and collapsed behind the door.

I buried my face into my shaking fingers. My cheek felt like it'd been struck with a baseball bat. Dad had never hit me like that before—I'd never felt how strong he really was. I never should have called my mother that. Oh, Christ!

My father had punched me!

This was too much.

My parents honestly thought I was a pothead—they actually believed that I, stupid, pathetic little Harry, smoked cigarettes and marijuana behind their backs—my own father had called me a worthless piece of shit!

This was too much.

My parents hated me. They'd totally given up on me—my father had called me worthless! Yeah, I'd done some things wrong, and I had a temper, but I didn't deserve to be called worthless! They'd never caught me lying before, so why didn't they trust me? I hadn't done that much! Sneaking out had been my worst offense, but that was two weeks ago, and I'd behaved ever since! For God's sake, I hadn't even spoken to them in days—how could they possibly dislike me so much?!

Why didn't they love me?!

—Well, why should they? After all, look what I am (what is it they say?)—I am a selfish spoiled stupid scrawny ugly arrogant bastard worthless piece of shit faggot brat!

I was obviously nothing but a problem, a disappointment, a waste of time and energy. My parents had made it clear that I wasn't wanted, so why was I sticking around? They would be happier without me! They didn't care about me! They didn't want me! They wanted another Arik, another prep, another jock, another handsome, brilliant Redde champion!

Not a physically disfigured, talentless idiot like me.

Not me.

Not me.

If they don't want me, why should I stay? Why stay, if I'm just a thorn in their side, a smear on the family name—why stay, if they don't love me?

(I was crying hysterically, my entire body convulsing with sobs, tears dripping down my cheeks and being flung from my quivering chin.)

Christ, I couldn't remember the last time they'd told me they loved me.

I couldn't stay here, couldn't take any more of this—If I didn't get out of here, I was going to do something crazy—I had to get out of here.

I pulled my warmest hooded sweatshirt out of my closet and threw it on; leapt into my sneakers and laced them. I still had my backpack with me—I threw in some food I'd had stashed in my room for emergencies (and what was this, if not an emergency?), my contacts, my glasses, my wallet, a handkerchief, a blanket, a flashlight, my CD player, another shirt, a pair of underwear and a pair of socks. My fingers found a Swiss Army knife in my bureau drawer—Arik had given it to me for my birthday. Where I was going, I didn't want to ever hear his name again, but the tools might come in handy. I threw it in. My vision was recovering rapidly, and I had a plan.

I threw my bag across my shoulders and went to the window. A quick burst of exertion, and the window slid up; a brisk blast of night air washed over my wet cheeks. Stealthily, expertly, I slipped onto the pointed top of the garage roof, just as I'd done many times over the past few years. Using the traction of my sneakers against the shingles and a handhold along the roof of the house, I made my way down the slanted roof to the portcullis, and leapt down to the grass. I didn't bother to close my bedroom window.

I'm running away, Mum and Dad. Let's see if you even care!

I checked my watch: 9:03, hence the darkness and cool breezes. The moon was full and bright in the star-specked black ceiling, and though it was cool, it wasn't cold. A superb night to flee.

Ducking into the shadows, I slunk out of the backyard and into the woods that lined our property. I made my way to the road, figuring I'd follow it for a while.

But where was I going? I didn't have any definite plans; getting away from my house and my family had been my first and main concern. Well, whatever. I could bum a couch at a friend's house, if need be. At the moment I didn't mind if I spent the entire night outside, so long as I didn't have to spend it at home.

I was feeling better already. My sobs had quieted and my tears had dried, leaving only a tight dryness on my cheeks and a burning in my good eye. The painful throbbing inside my ribcage was being replaced by heart-pounding exhilaration. I was breaking the routine—I was doing something crazy and spontaneous—I was escaping!—and Lord, did it feel good. My body knew I was out at the wrong time of night and heading in the wrong direction. I reveled in its confusion, my pulse racing in thought of the adventure ahead. I felt happy.

And why shouldn't I be?—I was free! There were no limits here, no rules besides gravity and basic biology. I didn't even have to follow the road; I knew the woods just as well. I didn't need to be a civilized person and follow a trail. This was no night for conformity!

The night was beautiful, lovely for a walk and perfect to forget about the War. Forget what they've told you and called you—this is Harris's night, this is my adventure. This is my selfish expedition, my personal epiphany! Let's see what I can really do.

The night is mine. The night is dark, but so is my world. I'm not hindered by the dark the way people with normal vision are. They slow and stumble, but I'm used to dark corners and shallow light. My ears are trained to pick up subtle sounds others miss, and I could hear my progress crackle ahead of me as I stepped on branches and leaves. My feet knew this terrain, and I was confident.

I came to the end of the road. It was silent and peaceful, and my breathing slowed to match it (it didn't seem right to shatter the quiet with heavy panting). Perhaps I was being too narcissist and selfish about this. This experience should be shared. Someone else should see this beauty, feel this freedom. I was in control of myself, and yet not: my heart ruled over my brain. I was defying all logic, and my body didn't know what to do about it. I was exhilarated, and yet more peaceful than I had ever been in my life. Surely any teenager could benefit from a freeing, refreshing natural high like this.

Lin's home was the closest to where I was now. He lives on his family's ship in a far-off neck of the same boatyard where Arik lives. Lin would appreciate this more, anyway. Lin had a wild streak; contained behind the sly narrow eyes and the tight smirk was a boy capable of almost anything, whether good or evil. He'd probably enjoy running away with me, if just for the thrill of it. And as a writer, poet, and musician who saw the world in depth and colors I couldn't imagine, he'd probably appreciate the ethereal beauty of the night even more than I could.

I took my time, savoring the cool breezes and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees overhead. At one point, I stopped and sat down on the ground to watch a troupe of bats zip past high above me. Why hurry? Time was mine.

This was an incredible feeling. For one of the first times in my life, I felt completely confident. Here, on this quiet road, there were no parents to tell me I wasn't good enough, no bullies trying to hurt me, no Arik to outshine me, no mirror to tell me I was hideous. I feared nothing. No wild bears or mountain lions were going to leap out and carry me off—and at any rate, I was one of them now, a solitary night creature, silent and alert. No kidnappers would want me, and they wouldn't be able to catch me anyway. My black clothing and black shoes and black hair blended into the darkness. There were no other people around to rule me and tell me which direction to go in and when to get there. Tonight I was only ruled by how far my trusty sneakers would carry me.

A doe stepped out in front of me from several yards away. Her round, luscious eyes stared at me for a fleeting second while we both stopped. My own dull vision met with the glowing full moons reflecting in her eyes, and then she was gone, leaping away into the darkness and vanishing. I smiled, feeling privileged to have witnessed something so beautiful.

The Lins' ship is docked down in a woodsy corner away from the bustle of the boatyard. From what I could see, the family had turned in for the night, for every light was off except Lin's. That was expected, as Lin was an insomniac prone to all-nighters spent under the covers with flashlights. Their ship looked small but regal in the darkness, and it reminded me of a large square swan sleeping contently on the gently rocking waves. I didn't know the model of their ship, as that's Arik's area of expertise, not mine, but it was obviously old and foreign, and its sides were painted with bold red Chinese characters. It had some nice name, but Georgie and I called it the Hong Kong Express because we couldn't pronounce it. (But then, we couldn't pronounce our best friend's first name either, which was why we referred to him by his surname.)

A massive tree grew up alongside the ship. Its roots plunged straight into the brackish water, and its limbs reached out so close one could pluck leaves off them from the deck of the bow. Conveniently, a large bow reached right out to the side where light was emanating from a window. I climbed the tree agilely and slithered out onto the limb. I grinned to myself, seeing my best friend sprawled on his back with his guitar with nothing on but boxers and socks. I rapped on the window.

Lin nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw my face in the window. In a flash he had rolled off his bed and leapt to the window.

"Harris, what the hell are you doing here?" he whispered fiercely, throwing open the window, his eyes wide. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I'm running away," I replied casually. "Want to come with me?"

Lin's black eyes had gone so wide they could have passed for Caucasian. "You're running away?"

"Yes. Come with me. It's incredible."

Lin gawked at me. "What happened, man? What's wrong? Your parents?"

"Fuck them. This is the best thing I've ever done. Come with me. You'll like it."

"Get down from there, man. Come in here. You don't look right."

"I'm better than I have been in a while. I saw a deer a few minutes ago, actually. She was beautiful."

He scanned my face, bewildered. "Are you drunk? You sound—stoned, or something…"

I laughed out loud, remembering the argument with my parents and amused by the irony. "Well, that depends on who you ask!"

"Get down from there, Harris. You're creeping me out. You're obviously not right," Lin said, his voice low and his eyes boring into me. "Come inside, you can stay with me for tonight and we can talk all about it."

"You won't come with me?"

"I'm not going to run away! Christ, my dad would have a heart attack! As I'm sure your family will! Do they know you're gone?"

"If they do, then I bet they're glad I'm gone. Fine, if you won't come with me, I'm leaving."

"You're out of your mind!" Lin hissed, and he disappeared from the window as I began inching back down the tree.

I thought he'd given up, but as I leapt back down to solid ground, the door of his ship slid open, and he hopped the railing of the ship and dashed down the dock. He'd jumped into a pair of un-laced sneakers and he threw a zip-up sweatshirt over his bare chest as he ran towards me.

"I'm not letting you leave," he declared as he caught his breath.

I scowled at him. "You don't understand."

"Where are you running away to? You'll get yourself killed!"

"Anywhere is better than here!" I spat, and I leapt to the side, but he jumped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Move," I hissed.

"Hell, no! Come on, man, use your head-talk to me, tell me what's wrong. If you run away, you're only going to get arrested or killed or shit! It's not worth it!"

He looked like an idiot trying to expostulate to me wearing nothing but boxers, sneakers, and half a sweatshirt. His smooth, pale skin was glowing in the moonlight, and his skinny legs looked so funny in his boxers that I wanted to laugh.

"You have one more chance to move before I make you."

"You leave, and I'll call the police. I am not kidding, Harris."

I threw myself at him and hit him square in the chest with my shoulder. He was surprised by my sudden movement and fell awkwardly to the ground, his glasses flying. I leapt over him, but he grabbed my ankle, and I hit the dirt just as hard. We both rolled to get up, but I kicked his shoulder, and he yelped. I got to my feet much more quickly, and when he reached for me, I swung my backpack and laid him flat.

"YOU BITCH!" he yelled after me as I raced off and left him behind. "YOU'RE GOING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED, YOU HEAR ME, YOU FUCKING IDIOT?! I'M CALLING THE POLICE!"

I slipped off into the woods and ran until I couldn't hear his yells anymore.

God, what an asshole!

I'd been having the best experience of my life, and he had to ruin it like that! The bastard! He was so unreliable as a friend, sometimes I wondered why I even bothered with him!

I slowed to a walk while I caught my breath. I cursed through my heavy gasps. No doubt Lin was now going to wake his father and call the police and all manner of idiotic shit. Christ, if I'd wanted an intervention I would have gone to Georgie, my personal therapist!

I checked my watch. It was 10:09. Only an hour on my own and my cover was blown. I'd have to make myself scarce, and quickly. I had to get out of here.

I headed into the forest.

By midnight, I had no idea where I was. I was in woods I'd never set foot in before. On a more sane night, this would have terrified me, but now I was too busy feeling resentful of Lin and trying to force myself to enjoy this. Apathy had settled over me like a fog of fatigue. I honestly didn't care if I was lost. (And at any rate, how could I be lost if I had no destination?) I was hardly going to die, and even if I did, it was no big loss. Georgie would be upset and my math teacher might miss me, but no one else would care. Still, if I died, Lin would kick my gravestone and yell, "I told you so, idiot!" Avoiding that was reason enough to continue breathing. He was so obnoxious when he was smug.

Gradually, though, my sense of peace returned. The forest was extremely thick, and few rays of moonlight were able to penetrate the copious canopy. The trees reached so high and were so darkly shadowed that when I turned my gaze skyward, it was hard to see where the leaves ended and the stars began. Because of the darkness and because this terrain was entirely foreign, I trod slowly. Each step was plotted: before I moved, I squinted ahead to see if I was heading into a patch of prickers or an unseen ditch, and I let each foot find solid, trustworthy ground beneath me before I moved the other. One foot after another, in a slow, calculated dance through the dark, I crossed the thick patch of woods and found a large, rolling field. I saw a second doe casually meandering across the field. An unlucky snap of a branch under my foot sent her body rigid, and in a flash she was gone.

The field was much easier to navigate, for the grass was still matted from a long winter and hadn't yet sprouted back up to hip-height. I crossed the sloped plain, and at the height of the hill, I was able to see the ocean glittering off to the East. This was a good sign: so long as I knew where the ocean was, I wasn't lost. If I followed the coast, eventually I'd find a house. If I found a house, I'd find a road. Once I had a road, I could get anywhere.

I sat down on a rock on top of the hill and looked at the stars for a long time. I found Orion, my favorite constellation, shining proudly in the corner of the sky. I found the North Star, and from there located the Big Dipper. I'd never actually stopped to look at them for so long, or seen them in such total darkness. God, they were beautiful. Why were we bothering learning about physics and cells? This was the kind of science that meant something.

My mind wandered back to Arik's remark about me working for NASA someday. Given what I was looking at now, that sounded like the job of a lifetime. I had the math skills for it, though I'd have to work on my science.

—What was I thinking? I'd never be an astronomer or an astronaut, and I'd never work for NASA-I was going to be completely blind in a few years. The doctors and specialists all said so, and it was obvious enough from the way I could feel my vision becoming dimmer and foggier with each passing week. My vision was gradually getting worse, and eventually it would fade out forever.

I put my chin in my knees and cast my gaze earthward again, depressed by the realization. Blind. I had a few years left, and then I'd never see stars or trees or beautiful girls again. What could I possibly do with my life if I couldn't see? My only talent was math, but I couldn't very well work with numbers if I couldn't see them. Hell, I wouldn't even be able to drive or dress myself well or go on the Internet. What would be the point of living?

I wondered if I'd be stuck living with my parents for the rest of my life, trapped by my disability, unable to get a job or a wife, and completely dependent on their whims. Fucking hell! There was no way I could let that happen! Somehow, I would manage—get myself a seeing-eye dog or a stick or something. I'd already taught myself some Braille, and my hearing and sense of smell were more attuned than other people's were.

Somehow, I would to manage. Blind people had managed well for centuries, and some of them had made impressive accomplishments in the world. Surely, I must know of some famous blind people. If I ever went home again, I'd have to look them up.

If I ever went home again. That thought made me grin. At the moment, my future was nebulous at best. I had no way of surviving by myself long-term, for I was only fifteen, and my supplies were limited. Regardless, I could hold out for a few days, meandering around, and dipping back into civilization if my supplies ran low.

I'd be caught eventually, but that was okay, so long as I gave my parents some time to figure out how much I really meant to them. Worrying would do them good.

Am I still worthless if you don't know where I am, Dad?

Let's see if they love me.

I got up off the rock and started walking again. I walked towards the ocean, and after an hour or so, I found the brackish river that lead to it. I walked the narrow, rocky beach in rhythmic steps and hops over rocks and roots.

It was 1:36. In six hours, classes would commence for another petty day of high school. This made me smile to myself, for I certainly wouldn't be there. Good! School was such a waste of time. I was learning more about life and myself here, walking under the stars, than I ever did sitting in a rickety desk and listening to some menopausal quack who had never left New England tell me what the world was like. I almost pitied my friends, who would languish through another meaningless day of high school when they could be strolling a beach and contemplating life, love, and God like I was.

Yeah, I was actually thinking about God. Usually I had the spirituality of a lawn gnome, and it was with much kicking and screaming that my parents dragged me to church every few Sundays. They were such idiots, my parents and Arik and all those brainwashed Catholics. If there was a God, he wasn't in some cheap-ass chapel, and he wasn't represented by some antiquated old man who looked at the little boys funny and said we were going to hell for not donating enough money to the Catholic Church. If any religion is true, this is where it would be found. No complicated rules and rigid ceremonies, just ocean, nature, and stars. Simple faith and a wonder of God. It was cliché, but it was true.

I was feeling so enlightened tonight. Hell, at the rate I was going, they could have called me the one-eyed Buddha. Well, I deserved it! For too long I'd been told that every thought that came into my head was stupid and naïve because I didn't understand the latest Lit homework or disagreed with my parents' politics. It was about time my wisdom got some recognition. This was my night, and if I wanted to think I was being godly, no one could stop me.

On a less spiritual level, I realized where the cigarette box full of marijuana butts had come from. You see, another endearing trait of our dear friend Justin Davison is that, like a lot of jocks and jerks at my school, he's been known to smoke a joint from time to time. And if you recall, he had possession of my backpack a few days earlier, and had no doubt leapt at the opportunity to get me in trouble. I was surprised he hadn't tried to frame me with administration already, though the trick had worked well enough with my parents. I had to hand it to him, really. It had been an extremely successful prank.

At 2:30 I was away from the beach and back on the road when I encountered the first manmade element I'd seen since I'd left the boatyard: a car. Being in such a high-and-mighty, ethereal state of enlightenment, it took me a few seconds to recognize the whirring sound approaching from down the road. Once I realized it was a police cruiser, I flung myself off the road and ducked behind one of the colonial stonewalls that can be found crisscrossing any area of New England. In a few moments, the cruiser drove by, its high beams illuminating the trees around me. I sank closer to the ground behind the old wall as it slowly crawled by and meticulously scanned the forest for any sign of human life. I could hear rocks and tar crunch under its tires, and I held my breath.

Was it me they were looking for?

It was very possible. Our town was hardly a center of illegal activity. A runaway brat was probably the thrill of the month and a welcome change from cleaning up broken bottles or investigating stray raccoons. And Lin had said he would call the police.

I wondered if Lin had called them, or if my parent had.

Once the cruiser passed, I crossed the road and headed off into the woods with a quickened pace.

3:05. I was freezing now, even though I was moving. I had my hood over my head and my hands inside my overlong sleeves. My toes were numb inside thin canvas sneakers, for I'd accidentally stepped in a puddle and gotten them wet. I'd had to stop and put on the dry pair of socks that I'd brought with me, but my feet were still cold from being exposed to the night air. I was also hungry, so I munched on a granola bar as I walked. I kept going and tried not to stop. I had to keep moving. My feet fell into a rhythm, step, step, step, step, and it felt strange to stop or slow.

A sign on a road about a mile back had welcomed me into Holden, an adjacent town. This impressed me, and I realized I had walked for miles and miles already. Hell, at the rate I was going, I could hike to Georgie's!

However, by now, I was getting extremely tired. My eyes couldn't handle the absolute darkness of the dead 3 a.m., and I had to start using my flashlight. I held it low to the ground, illuminating only my path. I didn't like using it. Using a flashlight meant the darkness was an enemy, and it made me a stranger to the night. I felt unwelcome with my gaudy white beacon, as if the trees were rolling their figurative eyes at my human weakness.

For the first time in a night of self-satisfaction and enlightenment, I felt nervous. I had to be realistic: I couldn't walk all night. I was going to have to rest and sleep at some point. I didn't know these woods, and since I couldn't see the sky, I could have easily been walking in circles. Would I be able to spend the night in the woods? I had no shelter, and only one blanket.

I didn't want to think about it. Keep walking.

Keep walking.

4:10. I'd found a road and followed it for a while. The road made me feel better, now that the dark forest had shunned me. I knew this road; it traveled through several towns and crossed the bridge at the reservoir. My bus picked it up before the reservoir on the way to school in the morning. It also meant I had crossed into another town.

I came to the reservoir. It was a pretty lake split in half by a road that ran through to the other side. It was one of the most beautiful sights in the entire county, but at the moment I was far too drowsy to appreciate the morning mist rising from the glass-like water. I'd passed another cruiser a few minutes ago, so I decided to cross the reservoir and keep moving through the town.

Put as much distance between my house and me.

Keep walking.

4:50, and I found a residential development. I was dead on my feet, and my extremities were numb. Couldn't walk any more. Needed to sleep. Needed to stop.

I was overjoyed to find a well-made treehouse in the woods behind a house in the neighborhood. Blessing its young owner, I climbed up the ladder and collapsed inside the small room. It was well kept and sturdy, and I felt as if I'd just been granted a free night in the Paris Ritz.

My numb fingers fumbled to pull my blanket out of my bag. I managed to throw the blanket over myself, and then I was out, sunken into peaceful oblivion.

next chapter...