On The Run

Chapter Thirteen - "The Fifth"

 Chloe

I pulled up the cushions on the sofa, knowing very well that it couldn’t be there. But I wasn’t about to go back downstairs to look.

 

“You barely even know her,” Kayla said

“Yeah, but I know she needs a friend . . . or friends,” Fitch replied.

“Yeah? But soon enough, she’s going to be gone and then we’ll all be a bunch of sorry saps.”

I sighed. I was trying not to take Kayla’s caution too personally, but it was getting kind of personal.

I checked underneath the chair, but it wasn’t there either. I was looking for my criminology book, but I had a feeling it was downstairs. I’d bolted the minute I’d heard the dialogue between Kayla and Fitch. I didn’t even need to wonder who they could have been talking about.

“What are you doing?”

I raised my head at the sound of the voice and took in Kayla’s irritated, and slightly confused expression.

“Looking for a book.”

“Did you put it there?” she asked.

I crouched, checking behind the shelf, “No.”

“So why are you looking there?”

I shrugged, not bothering to answer. I was tired of feeling like some sort of fungal infection spreading around her territory, as her expression was indicating.

“Did you look downstairs?” she asked.

I straightened up, “I do want to leave, okay? I do. Every minute of every day, I want to be someplace else, but I can’t.”

Comprehension dawned and she opened her mouth slightly, “Um . . . we’re not talking about your book anymore, are we?”

I stared at her unresponsive.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because I don’t have anywhere to go,” I answered dejectedly.

I saw her face soften, but I really didn’t want pity.

“It’s not here,” I said, reverting back to my original topic.

She gave me a look of slight amusement, “Do you want me to help you look?”

I shook my head, “It’s probably downstairs.”

“I’m sorry about what I said. It’s not really about you; I’ve just had my fair share of abandonment.”

“Like I said, I don’t have anywhere else to go,” I replied.

“You know what? Get changed,” she said arms akimbo.

“What?”

“I’ll show you around.”

“You really don’t have to—”

She cut in, “If you’re going to be here a while, you should at least know the neighborhood.”

I gave her my best rendition of a grateful expression, although I’m not quite sure how it turned out, but she smiled in response. I wasn’t quite in the mood to go out, but she was making an effort, and I wasn’t going to turn down an act of kindness.

“Okay.”

Which was how, a half hour later, we were walking down the street, with the sun trailing after us in a soft glow.