Runaways

by V. C. Andrews

  "I didn't say I liked it," she snapped. "I just said it wasn't as hard in the summer Maybe we should have waited until the fall to run off."

  Crystal lowered her book.

  "My hope is we'll find another place to live and finish school there. If we first left in the fall, we would be way behind by the time we started a new school," she said.

  "School? Who cares about school?" Raven cried.

  "Don't you think Butterfly will have to go to school? And still want to apply for scholarships," Crystal replied calmly. "If I knew you believed we would never return to school, I wouldn't have left."

  Raven muttered something under her breath and stared angrily out the window.

  "We shouldn't have let you throw away Gordon's cocaine," she said. "We should have just left it where it was. Now, we can't go back even if we wanted to," she griped.

  Crystal returned to her reading. Raven closed her eyes. Butterfly moaned in her sleep and I stared at the long stretch of highway. I felt like I was sinking into a tub of cold mud. Freedom doesn't automatically make things better for you, I thought. You still have to deal with defeat and frustration and you have no one else to blame but yourself.

  Even I was beginning to have some serious second thoughts. Had I talked them all into a disaster?

  We had our dinner in a fast-food restaurant and drove until we crossed into Indiana. Everyone was nervous about sleeping in the car, so we searched for a cheap motel. We found one that looked like it had been taken over by rodents, but the price of a room with two double beds was only seventeen dollars.

  The room smelled moldy and stale. Raven said it smelled like something died in the walls. I tried to open one of the windows, but it was jammed shut.

  "No one's opened this for some time. It won't budge," I explained.

  "We should sleep with the door partly open," Raven suggested, but Crystal was afraid.

  "We're out in the middle of nowhere and there doesn't seem to be anyone else staying here tonight."

  "Let's just make the best of it," I said, trying to avoid another argument. We were all cranky and tired and getting on each other's nerves.

  When we finally lay down on the beds, we found the mattresses were so worn, we nearly sank to the floor. All of us slept in our clothes with our own pillowcases instead of the soiled ones that were on the bed. Despite our horrible sleeping quarters, the driving and our emotional roller coaster ride made us tired enough to drift off, and none of us woke during the night.

  The bright morning sunshine easily penetrated the thin window shades and gauze-like curtains, but instead of welcoming us to a warm, new day, it only spotlighted the decay, rot, rust and filth of the room we were in. We were even reluctant to use the toilet, but did what we had to do out of necessity. We couldn't leave quickly enough and when we found a place to have breakfast, we washed and freshened up in their bathroom.

  None of us were particularly hungry. Crystal did an analysis of our small finances and concluded if we were extra frugal, and if Gordon didn't stop his gas credit card, we could still make it to California.

  "Why hasn't he stopped it from being used?" I wondered aloud.

  Crystal thought a moment.

  "There is the possibility he is tracking our escape route by checking to see where we use it," she concluded.

  It put a cloud of dread over us for a moment.

  "Of course, he would always be a little behind us, but still . . . ," Crystal said and let her words hang like icicles dripping cold visions of horror.

  "How much more thrifty can we be?" Raven asked, getting back to our present problem.

  "I'm talking about real economizing," she said. "This is the last time we eat in a restaurant. From now on, we buy food and eat in the car. Everyone likes peanut butter. We'll eat that for lunch," Crystal said. "Every day."

  "Great," Raven said. "We used to complain about the food in the Lakewood House and now that looks like a gourmet restaurant to us."

  "If your heart is so set on going back, Raven, go back," I snapped at her.

  "With what? Five dollars? And then what happens when I get there? Gordon uses me for target practice? Thanks," she said, her mouth sinking at the corners.

  "Then stop talking about it," I pleaded. "You're not doing us any good reminding us we're in a difficult spot."

  "Brooke's right, Raven. You've got to concentrate on the positive," Crystal began. "It's the only way to combat depression."

  "I'm sorry, you guys, I don't mean to be so disagreeable. It's just that . . . that . . . oh I don't even know!" And with tears running down her cheeks she headed quickly for the bathroom.

  "Why are we fighting so much?" Butterfly asked softly.

  "Because we're afraid," Crystal analyzed, "and it's easier to take it out on each other. Raven will snap out of it, don't worry."

  When Raven returned, however, she appeared to be even more despondent.

  "I need a warm bath," Raven said, letting out a huge sigh. "I'd even put up with Gordon looking down at me in the tub." As soon as the words left her lips I could tell she regretted uttering them.

  Crystal's head snapped up so hard and fast, I thought she would tear the skin on her neck.

  "You think I was exaggerating about that? It was disgusting and terrifying the way his eyes drank me in. He brought his hand inches above my breasts. He was drooling. My insides were so twisted, I couldn't breathe. I'm sure my heart stopped for a moment. I was passing out and I kept telling myself, if I did, he would . . ."

  "Oh Crystal, I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean it," Raven said.

  "Let's just go. If we keep moving, we'll feel better," Crystal said as we left the restaurant.

  The driving wasn't any more pleasant, except Raven tried extra hard to make the most of things. She played some games with Butterfly, sang silly songs, and got into a heated discussion with Crystal about feminism. For a while it felt like old times.

  Just after we had crossed into Illinois, the station wagon began to overheat. I noticed the temperature gauge climbing and I slowed down and pulled to the side of the road as quickly as I could.

  "What's going on?" Raven asked.

  "I'm not sure. The temperature gauge just shot up."

  "We've got to get off this highway, Brooke," Crystal said. Cars were whizzing by us. "We'll attract too much attention and maybe the highway police."

  I flipped open the hood and studied the engine. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I knew that the water gushing out of one of the hoses wasn't a good sign.

  "Do you know what the problem is?" Crystal asked.

  "I think it's this hose. Look at it gush."

  "What does that mean?" Raven asked.

  "It means we have to get a new one," I snapped. I may have known how to drive the car, but I wasn't a mechanic.

  "What are we going to do?" Butterfly cried.

  I looked down the road and saw an old sign advertising a garage a mile away. The sign was faded and the bottom corner was cracked away.

  "I'll walk down and see if that place is still open," I said. "If it is, I'll get someone to come up and help us."

  "We can't afford this," Crystal said. "it might take all our money."

  "Let's wait and see. Maybe they'll let us use the credit card," I said. "I'll come right back if there's no garage and we'll think of what to do then."

  Crystal checked her map

  "There should be a small town around here. We'll figure out something."

  "Okay." I got out. "Stay cool everyone," I added, fixing my eyes on Raven especially. "I'll be back as fast as I can."

  I started away and then broke into a jog. There was only one house along the way, a small A-frame, but because of the overgrown lawn and the dark windows, I concluded no one lived in it now. I kept going and when I rounded a turn, I saw the garage ahead. From this distance it was difficult to know if it was still in business. I didn't see anyone or any cars at the pumps and it was an old building, the siding peeled and chip
ped.

  As I drew closer, however, I heard the sound of power tools and sure enough, the door was open. I stopped and looked in, at first seeing no one and then a young man stood up. He had been squatting by a truck tire. He wore a pair of gray coveralls. I thought he was probably in his late teens, maybe twenty at most. He had thick, dark brown hair, and even from where I stood, I could see that his dark eyes were unusual, resembling two shiny black pearls. He had high cheekbones and a strong, nearly square jaw with a perfect mouth. He stared at me a moment as if I were an illusion.

  "Where did you come from?" he asked. "I didn't hear you pull up."

  "Our car broke down about a mile away, right before the exit," I explained.

  He didn't move or show any interest at first. Then he put down his power wrench, wiped his hands on a rag, and came out of the garage. Despite his working indoors, he had a deep, even tan. He was at least six feet tall and had a firm, muscular build that refused to be disguised under the coveralls.

  "I wasn't sure this garage was open," I said when he didn't speak. He just continued to stare at me, a small, tight smile on his lips.

  "We just do some body work and some mechanical work now," he explained. "We gave up the gas pumps a little over a year ago. There's not much traffic going by these days. What kind of a car do you have?"

  "It's a 1990 Buick station wagon."

  "We don't have a tow truck anymore," he said. "Maybe you should just call the Automobile Club."

  "We don't belong," I said quickly.

  He stared at me again. When he took these long silent looks at me, he made me so self-conscious, I had to shift my eyes. I could feel my cheeks heating up as well.

  He nodded and looked around, expecting to see someone else waiting.

  "Where's your family? How come they sent you by yourself'?" he asked.

  "It's just me and three of my girlfriends. We're going to California," I explained.

  "California?" He smiled as if I had said we were going to the moon.

  "Yes, people go there," I joked. His smile only deepened.

  "Someone must. It's the most populated state in the country. Well," he said putting his hands on his hips and looking in the direction of the exit, "what happened to your station wagon?"

  "It started to overheat. There's water gushing out of one of the hoses," I said. He raised his eyebrows.

  "Oh there is, is there?" he asked with a smirk. "So it sounds like you've diagnosed the problem, doctor."

  "No, really, I'm not sure what's wrong, it's just that I could tell there's a leak--it gushed all over me." I held out my wet sneaker as proof.

  "The hose probably rotted away. When was it serviced last?"

  I took a deep breath and looked away. "I don't know," I said.

  "Whose car is it?"

  "It's . . mine, but I don't know when it was serviced last," I said.

  "Seems to me that if I were going to California, I'd be sure my vehicle was serviced and checked," he said.

  "We just decided at the last minute," I told him.

  He smiled at me again, his eyes full of amusement as they fixed on my face. I tried to look away, but his look started a tingle in my spine that felt like a tiny bubble floating up and around to my heart.

  "Where are you from?"

  "New York, upstate," I said quickly.

  "And you just decided at the last minute to drive across the whole country?" he followed, his voice filled with enough skepticism to weigh down the faith of a priest.

  "Yes. That's the truth. Can you help us or not?" I questioned.

  He didn't exactly stop smiling at me, but he did turn more serious.

  "Well, I'll take my Chevy. I have a chain I can use to drag her back here, but just in case, I'll bring along some water," he said.

  He nodded at an Impala that had its rear lowered and customized exhaust pipes installed. The driver's side door had been primed for a paint job.

  "That's Betty Lou," he said. "Get in. I'll be right with you."

  "Betty Lou?" I said, smiling.

  "My sweetheart," he added, and went around the corner to fill a can with water.

  I got into his car. The seats had been redone in a fifties' tuck and roll. The dashboard was spotless as were the floors. A pair of large cotton dice dangled from the rearview mirror.

  He put the water can into the trunk, closed his garage door, and then got in and started the engine. It sounded a low growl.

  "Pretty, ain't it?" he asked as though we were listening to a symphony orchestra. "Not as pretty as you, of course." This time it was his turn to look away shyly.

  His compliment left me speechless, and we drove in silence until the wagon came into view. "That's you?" He nodded at our broken-down vehicle.

  "Yes," I said and he made a U-turn and backed up. Then we got out.

  "Don't get too close, girls," he said as he started fiddling with the hoses. "The water coming out of here is pretty hot. Uh oh. Looks like your water pump is shot, too."

  I could tell by the look on his face that we were in serious car trouble.

  "Can you fix it for us?" Raven asked. He glanced at her and then he turned to me. It was the first time I ever saw a boy take more interest in me than in Raven.

  "I'll tow you back to my station. The nearest parts place is thirty miles to Grover," he explained.

  "We don't have a lot of money," I said quietly. "You wouldn't take a credit card, would you?"

  "We don't take credit cards anymore. It's just me and my dad and he's hardly at the station." He thought a moment and then said, "Let me ask around. I could probably get a deal for you."

  "Great," I said, my eyes brightening.

  He shut the hood and opened his trunk to get out a chain. Raven looked at me and through her sign language indicated she thought he was a hunk as he attached the chain underneath and then attached it to his own vehicle. I ignored her.

  "Get behind the wheel and put it into neutral," he told me.

  I got in and Raven quickly followed.

  "Where's he taking us?" Crystal asked and I explained.

  "He seems really nice, Brooke," Raven commented as he got into his car and started to tow us. "He's nice enough," I said.

  When Raven saw his garage, she moaned. "Maybe we should go someplace else."

  "Beggars can't be choosers," Crystal said. "Let's just see if he can fix it."

  We all got out when he stopped.

  "The junkyard's about fifteen miles away," he said. He looked at his garage. "I was thinking they may have the part."

  He turned to me with a warm smile on his face. "Why don't you come with me? If you guys want, you can wait in the office," he suggested to the others. He unlocked the door and turned to us. "There's some cokes in the refrigerator, some cookies and stuff, too. There are a few magazines, but I don't think they'll interest you much," he added with a devilish little smile.

  Raven tossed her hair over her shoulder and widened her eyes.

  "Probably not," she said.

  "Thank you," Crystal said. She and Butterfly headed for the office.

  "Just answer the phone for me, will you?" he asked.

  "Of course," she told him.

  "How long is this going to take?" Raven asked.

  "Could be a while," he said. "First we've got to find a pump that works and then we've got to install it. Matter of fact, you girls might have to stay over."

  "Stay over? Where?" She glanced down the deserted road.

  "I don't know the rates around here anymore, but there's a place called the Woodside, sort of a bed and breakfast, about two miles north of here," he indicated. "Nice old lady runs it, Mrs. Slater. Look it up in the phone book while we're away."

  "Are you sure you should go with him?" Raven asked me as the mechanic walked back to his car.

  "I'll be fine. He's gone out of his way to help us," I pointed out. "Besides, he seems really nice."

  "Brooke, I of all people can warn you about 'nice boys.' Don't follow my
mistake," Raven warned. I blushed and quickly walked over to the car.

  "I'm Todd by the way," he said, "Todd Mayton."

  "My name's Brooke," I said.

  "Glad to know you," he said, nodding as he backed out. Raven stood there looking after us, her face a mask of worry.

  Todd did most of the talking on our way to the junkyard. I found out that he was the youngest of three children, all boys, and his brothers were living and working for an uncle in Indianapolis. His mother had left his father four years ago and she and her new husband lived close to his brothers. It was obvious from the way he talked about her that he resented her for what she had done to his father.

  "He was always a hard-working guy, my old man, and I guess our lives were never very glamorous. She claimed life with him made her ten years older than she was. She's a good-looking woman, my mother. When we had the pumps, men used to drive an extra ten, fifteen miles to get gas at our station because she was out there pumping gas, wearing these abbreviated shorts and a halter," he said with some bitterness. "I was just a kid, but I knew what their remarks meant and I hated the way they looked at her.

  "Jeeze," he said after a moment's pause, "look at me running at the mouth like this. I never do that. You must be special, all right," he added with a smile.

  I knew from the heat that traveled up my neck and into my cheeks that I was blushing like a fullblown red rose.

  "So what about you?" he asked when I didn't reply.

  "What about me?"

  "How do four young girls come to be on America's highways by themselves, for starters?" he asked.

  I hesitated. There was something about him, something about the way he had opened his own heart to me so willingly and without fear that made me resist lying.

  "We're runaways," I said, taking a chance with the truth. The others would kill me.

  He started to smile, looked at me and then stopped, his face suddenly serious.

  "No kidding?"

  "No kidding. We're foster children. We have no families. We've been living in a home for years, actually, and for a variety of reasons, we decided it was time to move on."