Run and Hide (11 page)

“We’ll just chill a while, he’ll be gone soon I’m sure.”

With that, we turned the corner, and the red car was quickly out of sight. I thought of all my things sitting in the shack, nothing keeping anyone from finding them and finding me out, or maybe worse, taking them. But soon, the resumption of strained voices, guitar, and drums refilled the airwaves in the car and my mind was lost in the music again. I tried earnestly to listen to the lyrics of the song this time, to understand them. Too many metaphors. So we rode, and I watched as tree after tree sped by. Sunlight sprinkled in between tree branches and glared off the cars that rode alongside us.

A few minutes in we passed a young girl, maybe three years old, waving from her car seat in the back of a blue sedan, her orange locks tumbling in front of her face. I waved, and giggled, leaning farther into the soft leather seat of Eric’s car. We passed more cars, one by one, turn after turn, and twenty-five minutes had passed before I realized time was passing at all.

“Eric.”

No answer; I’d spoken too softly to outdo the screams of twenty-somethings yelling atop electric guitar, bass, and drums.

“Eric,” I called again, almost screaming this time. He noticed, and turned the volume down.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“We’re here.”

I lifted my head to look at our surroundings.

The grass around us had definitely not been cut in a while, and all I could see at first other than grass and trees was one barren playground in the distance. He parked the car, and I noticed a basketball court occupied by a family of three playing horse. An older couple walked the sidewalk near the lot that connected to a paved pathway through the woods, and a brown wiener dog as old as them waddled eagerly by their feet.

Eric cut the engine.

“Do you know this place?”

He looked at me and nodded. Then he smiled. “Yep, I do. Come on.”

And with that he stepped out of the car, and I sat unmoving in the passenger seat. He crossed the front of the car and pulled my door open. I swung a leg out and he stepped back, his hands resting in the pockets of his hoodie, as usual.

“Thanks,” I said as I stood. “And I’m sorry about earlier, I just really, you know …”

He wasn’t listening. When my voice trailed off, he nodded toward the playground behind him and pointed a thumb at it. “You want to go play? Or what?”

His eyes winced in the glare of the sun when he faced me full on.

“Just relax, for one hour,” he said. He must have known the power he had behind that smirk.

              “It’s just, it’s scary. I constantly have to watch out for things, anything, everything. It’s just getting to be too much, you know.” My voice was quivering, and I felt my lower lip begin to shake as heat flushed my eyelids.

              “It’ll be fine. We’ll chill, you’ll go back, the guy will be gone, everything will be gravy.”

              He stepped toward me when he spoke so he could look into my eyes, eyes that were examining the pavement near my feet as I tried to hold back tears.

              “I’m sorry, I’ve been pretty mean. And crazy.”

He smiled a little, only to let it fade as he took a step away from me. “I’m sorry I found out.”

I swallowed his words, bitter, stinging words that went down like needles.

He led me down the gravel path that outlined the park in the direction of the playground, and I walked obediently, a step behind him.

“How did you know I was hiding something?” I asked him, brushing back a piece of hair that slipped in front of my face. And he shrugged. He pulled his shoulders up and released them back down, letting the smirk take over his face again.

I blew air through my lips and shook my head, which made him smile. Watching his face transform, I felt mine crack open. Like magic, I was smiling, and when he pulled his right hand out of the pocket of his jeans to extend it, palm facing upward, out toward me, I felt less sad and alone than I had since I came to Greensboro two weeks before. I looked at his hand, and I held it.

Within a minute I was standing on the recycled rubber that served as the playground’s platform with no idea what we were doing and no real intent to ask. He let go of my hand to climb up a rusting yellow ladder, so I followed him up, and across a bridge of wooden panels. Passing a mock ship’s helm we reached the playground’s red tunnel, hunching over to climb in. I was close behind him, and he stopped right in the middle of the tunnel, turned sideways and sat, patting the spot beside him for me to sit next to him.

So I sat, accidentally closer than I’d planned, my knees bent Indian style inside the abnormally large tunnel. Astonishingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable in the least. The shade inside was beyond refreshing from the burning sun. Plus, Eric’s right arm against my left was cozier than the blankets in the shack had ever been. We sat in silence for a moment before he broke it.

“I grew up in a house right down the street from here. Dad didn’t have the Beijing job yet, and he was working around here, still, at the job he had when he met my mom. We lived in that house until I was nine, when we moved to the one I live in now. They just kept having babies, and didn’t have enough room.” He stopped talking to laugh, and I joined him.

“I bet you and your brothers loved it here,” I gestured to show that I meant the park, “it’s really peaceful, not even crowded.”

“It’s perfect. The last year we lived here, Justin was only a baby, but Chris, Joe, James and I ran obstacle courses all through this place. Every once in a while Mom let us come when it was starting to get dark, too, so we’d play hide and go seek. You can probably guess where my signature hiding spot was.”

I looked around the faded red plastic tunnel we sat in and tried to imagine nine-year-old Eric seeking safety in it. “Thanks for bringing me,” I said.

I inhaled hard, and found myself leaning into Eric’s torso in an attempt to rest on his shoulder. I had cradled into him again, shocking myself at how easy it was for me. How much harder it had been not to. Though I feared he would, his body didn’t tense in the least, but only welcomed mine.

He turned his head toward me and held it there, until he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me against his chest like he had the night before. I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek to his chest, breathing one, deep and heavy breath before speaking.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” Usually that kind of thought didn’t come out audibly.

“I don’t know if anyone does.”

“It’s just like, blow after blow, it’s starting to feel like I’ve just trapped myself. Like I’m just insanely stupid, and every day I stay here I’m proving I’m even more stupid than I thought.”

“You’re not stupid. You can get through all this, if you want. You made it this far, made it out of a worse situation, right?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know if it was worse anymore.” I looked at the bulge my phone made in the pocket of my jeans. “My dad keeps calling.”

“What do you tell him?”

“I don’t answer, I can’t. I’m afraid I’ll just freak out and tell him everything and end up going back home.”

“Sounds like there’s a part of you that wants to. Would that really be the worst thing?”

Maybe not.

In the following silence, I counted his heartbeats and tried to justify myself laying on his chest and enjoying the rhythm of his breath.

“For what it counts, I’d rather you stay here.”

I didn’t respond, fearing the meaning behind the words, wondering what I wanted them to mean. He didn’t press for a response though, and when I looked up to see why, I caught his gaze breaking into me. He surveyed my expression, his cheeks mere inches from mine, absolutely mute as was I. No sound but breaths. He took his hand that wasn’t wrapped around me, and rubbed the hair hanging from my forehead, flipping it backward to leave my face dangerously exposed. The gravity of him struck me, hard, pulling me farther into him.

He closed his eyes as he took a breath and reopened them. I was instantly his. He must have always known I would be.

His face moved forward, and his lips approached mine, but didn’t touch them as they crossed my face. They breathed against my right cheek and hesitated there before his neck creased so they could tease the front of my throat. At this, my head tilted backward, only slightly, as a swift peck pressed upon the leftmost portion of my neck, below my ear. I struggled to keep my sanity as he teased, and without effort my body folded into his and complemented his every move, a silk sheet falling down the side of his face and neck.

He lifted his head again and brushed my cheek with his before his fingertips found themselves on my chin. As he pulled his face away, my eyes slid open after I realized they had been closed, for how long, I didn’t know. Before I could breathe, he was moving back toward me, slowly, taking an audible breath before touching his forehead against mine. My right hand caressed his cheek, and we shared the moment for a time much too short. With a gentle, brief peck on my forehead, he pulled my head into his chest and laid his on top of mine. I don’t know how long we stayed there before we left, not moving, not talking or thinking. It wasn’t long enough.

“Ana?”

“
Hmm?
” I turned to see Arianna questioning me from under Brandon’s lanky arm.

“I was asking, what did you do this weekend? Are you okay?”

              “Oh, yeah
um
, me and my mom just worked on setting up the house some more. Still getting adjusted I guess.”

“You just completely zoned out on us,” said Taylor, only half laughing.

“Yeah, just tired I guess. You know, Monday blues.”

“I know. Right?”

But actually, an odd sense of freedom had taken over my Monday mood and I was feeling nothing close to blues. So while the girls stood talking about their weekend fun I struggled to keep my head in the conversation. I gathered they were talking about Brandon and Arianna’s date on Saturday.

“Too bad you guys didn’t get to have that double with Ana and David,” I picked up on Kylie saying, shocked to hear “Ana” spoken when I thought I was safe to be in my own zone.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s happening, actually,” I said, weakly.

“We could tell you guys weren’t really clicking last week. Did something happen?” Brit asked.

“‘Perfect’ isn’t everyone’s type, I guess,” Kylie answered. I pressed my lips together and stood, playing with my book bag straps.

Deciding the conversation was more discomfort than I wanted to bear, I suggested, “I’ll catch you guys later, okay.”

With a wave, I turned and walked to the lockers. I usually avoided the lockers in the mornings, since self-conscious freshmen seemed to claim that hallway as their territory before homeroom. But attempting to escape the girls for the morning, I squeezed between two freshmen’s backs, and then two fronts before I made it to my locker. 22, 13, 33, and with a shake, the locker was open.

I reached for my Physics book. A wide hand slipped around my shoulder and grabbed it before I could. Another hand rested in the crease of my back and I shrieked at the touch.

“Good to see you Ms. Smith.”

“Eric, you scared me.”

“Long time no see. How was your weekend?” He smirked, of course, and ran his hand over his head to pull the hood off it.

“Well, it was …” Unbelievable? Crazy? “Good, I guess.” The smirk faded. “Pretty surprising actually.”

              “Surprising, eh? Let’s see …” Behind me, he stuffed the thick textbook in my bag, pulled the zippers from the sides to the middle, and then checked his watch. “Looks like we’ve got eight minutes.”

              “For what?” I asked as the bag was zipped shut.

              “Come on.”

              He led me down the hall and through the doors that went outside. Picking a not-so-optimal spot on the concrete, he sat on the ground, back to the bricks, and I kneeled, then sat beside him. He shook his bag off his back, but I left mine on, a shield between my back and the building.

              “Something going on?” I asked, grateful, but curious of the privacy precautions.

              “We’re going to figure something out here.” He leaned his head back against hard, pink bricks.

              “Right now?”

              “Soon. You can’t live in that place much longer.”

              “I know. I don’t want to. But I don’t want to go back to Georgia, either.”

              “I know.” He wrung his fingers through the length of his black hair, then picked up a penny from the ground, and flipped it. “That lady was sure she didn’t have a sister?”

              “She said she was, and now she thinks I’m crazy.”

“But you still think she might be your aunt.”

“I still think … she might be. I don’t know.”

“You think she didn’t know your mom was her sister?”

“Yeah. My mom’s mom gave her up when she was a baby, and Dr. Gomez is younger, so she probably wouldn’t have ever met my mom. That’s the only option I see that doesn’t involve her not being my aunt.”

              “And they’re from the same city?”

              “Yeah.”

              “So that’s what we’ll tell her.”

He said
we
. “What is this, we, anyways?”

              “Well what do you want it to be?”

Didn’t guys know not to ask us what we want? “I don’t know.”

“Something besides ‘I don’t know.’”

“But really …”

“Friends, then.”

And there was the word, the only word I didn’t want him to say. “Friends?”

“What else?” I knew he was testing me, but I figured friends would be better, anyways. He could help me, no strings attached, no hard feelings if I were found out and shipped back to Georgia. It didn’t sound right, but it would have to be right.

I smiled, and finally said, “Okay. Fr—”

Before I finished the word, I was tasting his mouth, the pressure much greater than any first kiss I’d ever had before. But then it was softer, and then it was hard again until he was standing up and above me, ripping away from the kiss as if Velcro lined our lips. He held my hands to lift me into a stance.

“Good friends.”

I knew our
friendship
was the most dangerous thing I had gotten myself into yet, but it might be the only thing that could save me.

Eric snuck in and out of my head the rest of the day, along with all of the other people that would decide my fate in Greensboro. The topics of each of my classes might as well have been Eric, Dr. Gomez, Ludlowe and Hawthorne, because they were the only subjects I could think about all day. I knew I could only avoid Ludlowe and Hawthorne for so long, so I had to do something to appease them. And I had to do it soon.

At the end of health class, last period, I got a text from Eric saying to meet him in front of school. So the bell rang, and I walked briskly down the Rock Bridge halls and out of the front doors. He was sitting on a bench next to the school’s entrance.

“I’m taking you home,” he said, nodding toward his car.

“Don’t I have a say?”

Without my asking or reminding him he took us straight to the gas station closest to school. While I grabbed a hot dog he grabbed a ham sandwich, and he picked out Lays potato chips when I picked out pretzels. I noticed that Eric looked particularly attractive roaming the snack isles in his hoodie. Even with the stress of finding a way to stay in Greensboro on my mind, I had to work to stop the smiles that threatened to form whenever our eyes locked. By the third or fourth time, I was failing, and eventually I was dodging his glances.

Finally I chose a drink, and we went to check out. I tried to smile at the clerk, but he wouldn’t return the gesture. Instead, he sent me interrogating stares as Eric offered to pay for my food and I refused.

“That’s the gas station guy that called you out?” he asked as we left.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“We might need to find you another gas station.”

I followed Eric to the car, worrying that the passenger seat was becoming too comfortable.
What am I doing?
We backed out of the parking spot, and I was surprised to find we turned right at the exit.

“The shack’s left,” I told him.

“Yeah, I’m taking the car back to school. When we get back I’ll walk with you to the shack, don’t want the car to bring suspicion.”

“You’re just going to leave your car at school?”

“I’ll walk back and get it later.”

Arriving at the school minutes later, I struggled not to admire the way he backed into the parking spot, first try, and how his tan face scrunched as he watched the rear in the car mirrors. While he was placing the car in park, I unbuckled my seatbelt, waiting for his cue to step out. He unbuckled his seatbelt slowly, noticing the sweat forming on my hands and thighs.

“You don’t have to come with me,” I told him.

“Let’s go.”

We started the sun-heated walk to the shack. I don’t know how he did it in that hoodie. I thought of linking my arm with his, a friendly gesture, but I kept my arms firm by my side so they couldn’t budge.
I’m in a crisis right now,
I reminded myself.
No more confusion.
I figured conversation might get my mind off touching him.

“So what are you trying to do with your life, Mr. Brantley?” I tripped over a dip in the sidewalk, remembered to look where I was walking.

“You mean like,
life
life?”

“Yeah, like, long-term.”

“
Hm
, I’ve always been interested in anthropology. You know, not digging stuff up so much, but more like the cultural kind. Like different cultures and traditions and stuff.”

“That actually sounds … fun.”

He laughed. “Yeah, hard to believe people get paid to do stuff like that. But honestly, I don’t even know what kind of job I’d get out of it.”

“What makes you so set on studying it then?”

“Well, I actually write. I’ve always wanted to study different cultures so I can use them in writing and stuff.” He looked at me, amused at my interest. “I actually already have a few story ideas. I want to turn them into novels.”

I imagined his books being made into movies, crossing my arms tight after almost letting them touch him.

“So what do you want to study?” he asked.

“I’m going to go into law I think.” I could have made up something different, but what was the point?

“That’s so … intense. Why law?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just like the fact that if I’m a lawyer, people will listen to my argument. Then when I’m a judge one day, everyone in my courtroom will be forced to respect me, to listen to me, to hear me.”

“Yeah, I like that part.”

“Yeah?”

“I hear you.” He nudged my arm before throwing his hands in his pockets.

As the sweat on our foreheads began to form full droplets, we reached the shack. We dropped our bags to the floor, and I lay, spread like a snow angel, on the blankets. Eric was breathing hard, and still standing. He pulled the bottom of his hoodie up to take it off, but when he did it the t-shirt underneath slid up with it, all the way to his chest. I tried to look away, but I was hopelessly glued to him. My lips parted for a second or two before I realized and closed them. His muscles, the lightest shade of tan-brown, were defined at every smooth dent and rounded into hills and valleys. With every movement he made, a different muscle flexed. At once the hoodie was off and he was smoothing his t-shirt back down, allowing me to think again. He didn’t look at me though, and he even seemed a little shy once he realized his stomach had been showing. He shook his head and smoothed the hair that hung from it.

“Homework, shall we?” he said.

I mumbled yes, we lay facing in opposite directions on the blankets, and he found all the answers to our History homework while I worked on Math. But for some reason homework was taking me much longer than usual.

“Ana.”

He’d been done for a while, staring at the ceiling, waiting for me to finish.

“Yep?” When I turned to my right to look him in the eyes I realized he had moved much closer to me than before. I surveyed his face for any hint of juvenility, or immaturity, and when I found none I shook my head in amazement.

“You know what you are?” he said.

I didn’t. “What?”

His eyebrows folded inward. “Insane.”

I pushed him with both hands and he fell laughing, actually laughing, onto the exposed wooden floor. “This place is gross!” he added.

“I know! I need to get out of here.”

“ASAP.”

With homework done we started on the dinner we’d bought at the gas station. With a big bite into the hot dog, mustard and mayonnaise dripped down my chin in a pale yellow blob, and he laughed at the unflattering image. Sydney was always there when he was around; Ana had no chance with him.

“So about Dr. Gomez,” he started, still chewing on the chunks of sandwich turning to mush in his mouth.

“Any bright ideas?” I asked him.

“Soon, okay?”

“Soon what?”

“We go talk to her soon.”

“How am I supposed to get her to listen?”

“You’ll just tell her everything you told me, ask her to hear you out, and worst case scenario, you can say you tried.”

“I did try.”

“I mean, really tried.” He shook his fingers into my hair to muss it up, but right as I reached to push his hand away it had slipped down back of my neck. “It would just suck if you had to leave you know.”

“I know.”

Time passed in silence; the room grew dark. I felt his hand run up and down my arm as I realized I’d dozed off.

“Goodnight, friend,” he said, and stood to leave. “Be safe.”

* * *

Walking through the door to the History trailer, I immediately looked to the right to check for him, more than excited to see his face again, see Sydney’s one friend again, feel normal again. But his seat was empty. I scanned the room, and he wasn’t there yet. Probably because I was so early. I sat in my usual seat across the room from his, and awaited his arrival.