I woke slowly, wondering why my neck and back were so stiff and why the sun was in my face. I panicked when I opened my eyes and saw before me a wall of flat wooden boards nailed in strips and marked with knife-carved initials. I jolted upright so quickly I pulled the stiff muscles in my neck and yelped aloud. Rubbing my neck, I looked around, and the events of the night (and early morning) flooded back to me. Drugs�Worthless�Run�Lin�Woods�Stars�Cops.

I checked my watch. 7:30! I couldn't believe it!

Holy hell! I'd been on the lam since 9:00 last night�ten and a half hours!

�And my stomach knew it. I devoured handfuls of Goldfish crackers while I mused on my incredible accomplishment.

Jesus, ten and a half hours! School was starting now�Lin and Georgie would be in class. If my parents hadn't known I was gone, they did now. What were they doing? Were they worried? Were they angry? Were they petting Arik and self-righteously sniffing, You never did anything this stupid!

My body was stiff from sleeping awkwardly on a hard wooden floor, and my legs and feet were sore from walking all night. My eye burned with painful dryness, for I'd fallen asleep without taking my contact out. When I took it out, I got dirt in my eye, which made it hurt worse. In addition, my face was still sore, and I imagined that I had quite a shiner from Dad's fist. I had cuts and scratches on my hands from fighting with Lin and fumbling in the woods, and my hands, feet, and clothing were caked in dirt. If I had to guess, I'd say my neck-length black hair was greasy, matted, and windblown in every direction. I picked a beetle off my leg and flung it out the window.

I decided not to ever make fun of a hobo again. Living outside wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

It was wonderful to see sunlight again! It poured in, warm and light and yellow, through the square window and illuminated the whole treehouse. I put my glasses on and surveyed my surroundings. Through the window I could see a house beyond the thin strip of trees. I was in a nice suburban neighborhood, maybe in Holden, maybe in Paxton. Massachusetts, at any rate.

Well, now what? I didn't fancy leaving my Canopy Ritz, but I doubted I'd be able to live here undetected. Besides, I didn't have much food with me. I had money, though, so if I could find a store, I could buy myself something. Yeah, I'd have to do that.

I packed up my things and climbed down from the treehouse to take care of a more pressing matter: I took a leak. I felt bad about taking a piss on someone else's property, but I doubted any of these yuppie suburban housemoms would welcome me in to use their bathroom. One does what one must.

However, this reminded me that I was incredibly thirsty. Brilliant child that I am, I'd left my house without taking anything to drink, and the crackers were dry as sand in my mouth. I'd been thirsty all last night, especially after walking so much, and I worried that I was becoming dehydrated.

Closer observation of the house yonder led me to the discovery of a green garden hose coiled around a hook by their toolshed. My parched mouth practically dragged me to it. As stealthily as I could, I slunk through the woods and ducked behind their toolshed. Hungrily, I turned the handle until water spurted from the open end of the hose. I pulled the hose to my mouth and drank greedily from it. The water was cold and delicious�these yuppies had pure well water�and I gulped it down like a camel at an oasis, splashing my chest with water and not caring.

�And then: "Who are you?"

I choked on the water. My head spun in the direction of the tiny voice, the first voice I'd heard in hours.

It was a little kid who couldn't have been older than seven, a boy with a bright striped shirt and a plastic Spiderman backpack. He curiously squinted up at me while I stared stupidly, the hose still running in my hand.

Before my dazed brain could summon any sort of response, the boy skittered away and yelled, "GRAMPA! THERE'S A WEIRD GUY OUT HERE!"

I panicked�I dropped the hose and leapt back, preparing to flee�but before I could take flight, there was a thunderous howl akin to the hounds of Hell, and the largest dog I had ever seen in my life came barreling towards me with slavering jowls and rippling muscles-and I screamed like a little girl.

I leapt up onto the coiled hose and hurled myself onto the roof of the toolshed as the dog�a rottweiler! Who owns rottweilers?�leapt up on its hind legs and barked at me. Its front paws flailed against the side of the shed, and I scuttled backwards further up the roof, ready to shit myself.

An older man in a green bathrobe ran out and seized the dog by its collar. "Down, Roxy!" he commanded it, and wrestled the slavering beast off the shed. As he held her down, his unshaved face flicked up at me, and he barked, "Who the hell are you?"

I babbled like an idiot, fatigue and fear making me suddenly lose my composition. "I'm really, really sorry�I was just trying to get a drink, that's all�I was really thirsty�I haven't had anything to drink in hours�I swear that's all I was doing�and I kind of borrowed your treehouse last night, but I swear I didn't do anything to it, I just needed somewhere to stay�I'm really, really sorry�!"

The man shook his head at me, clearly not hearing a word of my babbling. "What? Wait, who are you?"

"H-Harrison-Addison Redde," I sniffled.

The man's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Any relation to Arik Redde?"

Naturally, of all the houses in Massachusetts I get caught at, I choose the home of Arik's former Varsity soccer coach. The man, Mr. Peters or something like that, eventually tied the dog up and bade me climb down from his woodshed. The man's wife, apparently the panicky type, had already called the police as soon as her grandson reported that there was a shady-looking pirate-boy filching water in the backyard. Before the man could work a confession out of me, the police arrived. They recognized my eyepatch from reports they'd had of a runaway and were practically giddy with excitement at having caught me. You would have thought they'd won a free box of donuts for finding me before my town squad did. I swear to God, they even considered handcuffing me, just to make it more exciting.

"You gave your family quite a scare you know!" honked one of the officers, a red-nosed man whose uniform was bursting at the seams along his waist. "About time we get you home, don't you think?"

We were in the Peters' living room, and as he spoke, he motioned for me to get up. The little kid who had found me watched me from the couch, his eyes wide and his finger up his nose. I shot him a nasty glare. He stuck his snot-covered finger in his mouth, but I couldn't one-up that.

The cop put a hand on my shoulder and pressed me forwards until we'd left the house. I kept my eyes on the ground and didn't say anything to the Peters. What was I supposed to do, thank them? They'd just had me captured.

The fat cop's hand on my shoulder felt awkward, and I shivered it off, hating him. His grip may have been leprous, for in stealing away my freedom he was infecting me once again with parental oppression. It was easy to hate him, for he was ugly and stupid, and he was the one who was now ending my lovely adventure. I let my anger well up inside me and direct itself at tormenting him in my mind so I wouldn't have to think about what would happen once I got home.

There was another cop with the fat one. They looked like clich� cops out of a movie: a fat, loud cop who made a lot of gurgly noises, and a tall, gaunt cop with a long nose and fidgety eyes. The thin one's bulging eyes followed me, flicking hyperactively around my body, the entire way from the house to the cruiser. He had taken my backpack from me before we left the house, just in case I had plans to whip an AK-47 out of it and mow them all down. I saw him surreptitiously open it and prod through with his long, twig-like fingers.

I'd never been in a police cruiser before. They put me in the back-the criminals' seat. The seats were dark black leather. They were greasy and the stuffing was popping out along the frayed edges. The whole car smelled like old sweat, onions, and minty potpourri. I imagined the little air-freshener tree hanging off the rear-view mirror had really struck fear into the hearts of all the criminals who had sat in my spot.

"Y'allright back there, kid?" the fat cop brayed from behind the black grate that separated the good guys from the bad guys. I gave him a sullen glare, and he guffawed and started the car.

"What happened to your eye?" asked the gaunt cop. His voice reminded me of one of those gratuitously honky voices one only hears in bad cartoons. I also didn't appreciate the question.

"It was ripped out by a grizzly bear during a Boy Scouts trip," I replied, figuring this was probably my only opportunity in life to be a smart-ass to a cop and get away with it. Besides, I'd had years of practice replying sarcastically to that stupid question, and by now it was a reflex.

The cop was not amused. "Funny. What really happened?"

"Hurt it as a kid. It got infected."

"Your parents never bothered to get you a glass eye or anything?"

That was a good question, really.

I could feel the gaunt cop's bulging eyes scrutinizing my face as he peered at me over the back of his chair. "Why did you run away?"

"My parents took away my cell phone," I replied sarcastically, rolling my good eye. That was probably what he wanted to hear, as I'm sure he assumed I was just a spoiled brat. Fine. Give him his self-satisfaction and buy him a fucking donut.

"One of them hit you," he stated, very matter-of-factly. I was surprised that he said that, though I guess 'black eye + runaway' made it pretty obvious. "Your father?"

I shrugged noncommittally and couldn't meet his eyes.

"Why'd he hit you?"

I didn't answer right away. I could easily make this situation very complicated if I exaggerated. I was pretty beat-up from hiking all night, and I probably still had bruises from Justin. I could easily lead the cops to believe that my father beat me.

But my family would never forgive me for getting them in trouble, and at any rate, it would be unwise for me to get myself messed up in something so risky given my current situation. If I ever wanted my parents to love me, getting my father arrested was not going to facilitate matters.

"I called my mother a bitch," I replied eventually.

The fat cop guffawed again. "Ha, I would have hit you, too, if you were my kid!"

I dearly wished I had some dark Sith Jedi powers, like Darth Vader's ability to choke people who irritated him with only the flex of a finger. However, since the Force didn't seem to be particularly strong within me, I merely continued my one-eyed death glare, arms folded.

I checked my watch as we drove. It was 7:48 a.m.

next chapter...