The massive brick building, gothic with spires, arched windows on the first floor, and oxidized green copper roof rose before me. ![]() My phone kept buzzing, the different rhythms that meant that Astrid, and maybe by now my dad, were both calling and texting. Tall trees shaded it, but every so often I’d glance right, and through the branches could see the opposite rise where my house stood. Martindale Street wound up the steep hill above the pond. I passed my old elementary school and Heckler Pond, where I had learned to ice-skate, and didn’t feel an ounce of sentimentality. My plan was to hit the highway and disappear, but I had a lump in my throat that made me turn right onto Shuttle Meadow Avenue. Wheels squealing, I flew out of my driveway, leaving Astrid running after the car, yelling and waving. I backed out, my heart beating so fast it could have run the engine. I hadn’t started my mother’s car in a long time, but it was an indestructible Volvo station wagon and it fired right up. I tore through the trees, made it to the garage door, and hauled the door up in one wild motion. ![]() I had lived here since birth my parents had brought me home to this house, and the smell was as familiar to me as anything in my life. Tiny purple flowers tossed overhead, mixing with the pine needles. They’d just bloomed, and their scent was stronger than perfume. I threw my duffle out the window and, just like yesterday, climbed out and shinnied down the pine tree. I had to move fast and couldn’t risk her grabbing me if I went through the house. I knew what she’d do next: call my father and try to head me off at the pass. That lasted exactly three seconds, and then she ran down the hall. I heard her footsteps on the stairs and quickly locked my bedroom door, just as she began rattling the knob. Astrid had finished faxing and making her call, and her vigilance had kicked in. Then I dove into my closet, rummaged for the duffle bag that I’d already filled with a fleece, my rain slicker, underwear, extra jeans, my diary, bottles of medication, my toothbrush, the packet of my mother’s letters, and all the birthday and Christmas money I had. I grabbed it and stuck it into my jeans pocket along with my cell phone. Last night I’d hidden the Volvo key on the ledge outside my window.
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