Run and Hide (12 page)

“Ana,” the deep voice came from my right. When I looked over I saw Mr. Kyle sitting at his desk, intently reading something on his computer screen. He turned to me, looking at me above his glasses before slipping them off.

“I’ve just received an email, it seems Mr. Ludlowe needs to see you in his office. Do you know where it is?”

My heart pounded.
Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Why, is it something urgent?” I couldn’t help asking. My eyes bulged as they skipped back and forth between Mr. Kyle’s face and the back of the computer that’s screen was sending me to hell.

“He just says he needs you to come.”

“Okay.” I gulped. “I know where it is.”

Mr. Kyle handed me a hall pass. “We’re reviewing for the quiz today,” he said. “Whatever you end up missing, make sure you get it from a friend.”

I forced an “okay” nod and took a step toward the door. It opened before I reached it though, and a group of students flushed in. The giggle-twins, some others. Eric was the last in.

I tried to avoid his eyes but they caught mine, and when I wasn’t returning his smile, it quickly faded.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

I slipped through the space between him and the doorway, shaking my head without speaking, and closed the door behind me.

He must have told.
I couldn’t believe it.
How could I be so stupid?

I didn’t even feel myself moving toward the school building, entering it, turning down the hallways. All I felt was a racing pulse and heat rising and falling in my lungs. My stomach rumbled with discomfort. My knees struggled to support me.

And then “Mr. Ludlowe” was written on the door in front of me. I knocked on it, twice, and fiddled with the hall pass in my hands.

“Come in,” I heard. A call from inside the room. I twisted the handle and pushed the door forward, and it swung open much faster than I’d planned. As the door tapped the wall to its side. I looked up to see Mr. Ludlowe typing on his computer behind a desk covered in plaques, picture frames, and office supplies. Ms. Hawthorne sat in one of the three seats in front of the desk, in a gray skirt and fuchsia blouse, her legs crossed in her seat, showing off short heels that perfectly matched her starburst-patterned shirt.

“Oh, hello Ana,” Mr. Ludlowe called, turning his spinny chair to face me and then rising to his feet. He reached out his hand for me to shake it, and I did.

“Hi,” I said. Ms. Hawthorne lifted her hand to wave hello before situating it back neatly atop the other hand on her lap. “You needed to see me?”

“Yes,” he responded. “Have a seat.”

“Is something wrong?” I didn’t want to take a seat. That meant it would be long, or heavy. Eric had told them. I knew it.

“We just need to figure some things out is all.” The country twang swept through his voice stronger than ever when he said that, and I was growing to hate its sound. I sat. Trying to stay calm, sliding my slippery hands across the laminated pass.

“The thing is,” Ms. Hawthorne started, “none of the calls we’ve made to your parents have been answered. Home nor work.”

“And the package we sent in the mail was just sent back to us.” Mr. Ludlowe added. “There are documents in that package that we absolutely must have in order for you to attend school here. And it seems the address you’ve given us doesn’t exist.”

“I can take the packet home myself,” I said. “Maybe I wrote the wrong number down. I’m still getting used to stuff here.”

“Ana,” Ms. Hawthorne said. “Is there something going on we need to know about?”

“No,” I said, “I can have my mom call you, there’s no problem, honestly.”

Mr. Ludlowe leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, held his hands together and added, “Ms. Hawthorne here is not only in charge of PTA, she’s also the school counselor. If something’s going on you’re not sure how to deal with, she’s the one you need to speak to.”

“I’m sure the mail thing was just a mistake.” My voice was getting weaker, and it was cracking. “I’m sure we can get it all figured out.”

“That’s not our only concern,” Ms. Hawthorne said. And my eyes shot to her like lasers. Eric
had
told them. “One of the students has come to us with concerns about your adjustment here.”

“Who?” I shouted. What a dumb mistake I had made trusting him.

“Calm down Ms. Smith,” Mr. Ludlowe ordered. “We’re not here to cause trouble, we’re here to avoid it. It’s protocol that if the parent cannot make orientation and fill the forms out in person, we send the package in the mail. If you can get your mother to come in, fill out the forms, and tell us everything’s fine, maybe give us the correct address, we’ll let this all go and move on.” He lifted his hands as if he were holding a wineglass in each of them, before clasping them back together and glancing at Ms. Hawthorne. I looked at her too, to find her nodding and smiling, her legs now uncrossed, her hands tightened together in her lap.

“Okay,” I said, “sounds good.”

“Okay then,” said Mr. Ludlowe. And the conversation was finished.

I stood and left the room, barely keeping enough composure to cover the fury that was covering the anxiety that wrapped my core.
How could he
do
that?

Every step I took back toward the trailer, I felt more and more stupid. More and more angry. And when I pulled open the door to the trailer, everyone looked at me, including him, and I looked him in his eyes before sitting in my seat and facing Mr. Kyle.

While the rest of the class reviewed the topics we’d gone over the past two weeks, I reviewed every mistake I had made coming here. And every mistake was everything I had done since I came. I should just go home. I should call up my dad, pack my things, and spend some of the last money I had on a bus ride home. The class ended and while I put my notebook in my bag I thought,
it’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s over.

“Ana,” Eric said. He was standing in front of my desk as kids passed behind him and I kept gathering my things. He looked up at Mr. Kyle, who was erasing the white board, and smiled.

“Do you need the review you missed?” Eric asked. I spun my bag around my shoulder as I stood from the desk, and I passed him without a word and walked out of the trailer.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when we were outside. He had followed me, almost jogging to beat my fast pace and stand in front of me. “What happened?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Why, what did I do—?”

“You told them!” I shouted. “You freaking told them, and I should’ve known.”

“Told who? I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Are you really going to lie to my face?”

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” The voice was feminine and it was coming from behind me. I had forgotten kids were all around us, that anyone could have heard us.

Kylie walked up to us, a blue sundress on with cowboy boots, holding two textbooks in her hands.

“You okay, Ana?” she asked. I looked at her, her eyes a bit too concerned. I squinted at her, wondering why she’d interrupt us. I realized I hadn’t stopped to talk to the girls that morning.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks.”

I walked away with Kylie holding my arm, tight, and forced myself not to look back at Eric. But I heard him.

“Fine?” he yelled. But we kept walking.

“What was up with that?” Kylie asked.

“Long story.”

* * *

Let’s talk after school
read the text I’d sent Eric in the middle of last period.

Yeah,
he’d answered.

So upon my exit from the school building, after I’d finished the rest of my classes, showered, and charged my phone, I saw him lying out on a bench, right where he’d texted he would be. Headphones in, legs bent, arms crossed and eyes closed, facing the sky. I walked until I was next to him, touched and shook his right arm.

“Hey,” I said, as he turned to face me and pulled the headphones out of his ears.

“Hey,” he said, and he turned to sit up, so I sat and filled the new seat available beside him. “Look Ana, I swear I didn’t tell anybody anything. You’re the only person I’ve even talked to today. What even happened earlier today?”

“They called me into Mr. Ludlowe’s office. Ms. Hawthorne was there too. They said someone came to them, concerned or something.”

“Damn, I don’t even like to talk to them. I’m afraid that counselor will try to get all in
my
business. I honestly didn’t talk to them.”

It was hard not to believe him. But nothing make sense anymore. “Then who could have?”

“I don’t know. Maybe one of your friends. Have you been acting weird?” He stood from the bench and squeezed his hands in his pockets. When I could tear them away from him, my eyes shot behind him to see Kylie and Michelle chatting on the school’s front steps.
Hey
I mouthed as I waved to them, and they waved back.

“They’re watching me,” I told Eric as I stood, too.

“I know.”

“Maybe Kylie said something. She must think something’s going on. Her catching us yelling today probably didn’t help, either.”

When I said that, he turned around and saw them too, before turning back to me.

“I should just give it up. I should just go.”

“Go where?” he fired back. But I didn’t answer. He shook his head. “No.” He shook it harder. “No Ana.”

“It’s gotten too complicated, Eric. It’s just too much.”

He brought his face as close to mine as he could without touching it, and I felt the heat from his breath on the top of my lip.

“What are you doing?” I asked him. I didn’t move.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” The girls were watching behind us, but I didn’t push him away.

“Kiss me.”

This time the words were softer, a whisper, and somehow he managed to move closer to me.

So I kissed him, tasting the Gatorade he must’ve downed right before I saw him, and deciding I had never tasted a better flavor. Nothing was seen or heard but everything felt, every contraction of his lips and shift of his hand on my chin and cheek. And then, too soon, the kiss was over and he leaned away from me. His black bangs covering eyes that watched my heels return to the ground.

Kylie and Taylor stared with narrowed eyes and fallen jaws.

“What was that?” Adjusting to sunlight again, I looked wide-eyed to Eric.

“Now they won’t wonder why we were arguing.”

He turned and walked toward the road, straight-faced with his hands back in his pockets.

“Oh … my god.” My hand held my forehead, shielding me from Kylie and Taylor as they tried to communicate with me from where they sat.

“Come on,” Eric called, and I sped to follow him. I couldn’t handle the girls’ shocked faces and gestures. I rushed until I was down the sidewalk where they couldn’t see me.

When we were clear from view, I caught up to Eric and slapped him hard on his back, crisply and rapidly, over and over until I was hitting his arm, and then in front of him, banging on his chest. He laughed, barely fazed by my attempts to cause him pain. As I reached back for another blow he only laughed harder, and pulled my arms down to my sides before wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

“You can’t say it wasn’t a good idea,” he said. “And you kissed me, anyway.”

“What am I going to do if I stay here, Eric?”

“We’re going to talk to Dr. Gomez.”

“They want my guardian to come in and fill out the papers in person. Like ASAP.”

“That’s why we’re going to talk to her now. So you won’t have to spend another day worrying.”

I realized we’d turned in the direction of Dr. Gomez’s neighborhood. He was serious.

“Today?” I asked.

“Now. Better think about what you want to say.”

“I’m not ready. She’s going to think I’m crazy.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re going to have to be.”

And he was right. I had no other choice. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to stay here with him and the new school and my new friends, Ana’s friends, and I just needed everyone off my back. And a place to stay. That’s all I needed.

In about ten long minutes, he and I stood across the street from Dr. Gomez’s home, and it was time for me to make it happen. We stood there for a long moment, observing the exterior of the home like house hunters.

“This is it?” Eric pouted his lips.

“Yep.” And at that he nodded.

“Welp, here goes. You ready?” he asked. He watched my unmoving feet, and added, “After you.”

The steps to the front door took much too little time to complete.

“What if she’s not here?” I asked.

“A car’s in the driveway.”

“Oh.” I looked around. We were standing in front of the wood door I had dreaded on the walk up. The last time I’d seen it ended in sheer failure. “I don’t think I can do this again.”

“Just ring the doorbell, Ana. You’re fine.”