The Runaways | Teen Ink

The Runaways

June 3, 2013
By Kscipione BRONZE, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Kscipione BRONZE, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Sitting in the room with many kids may have sounded like an amazing time for an eight year old, but it wasn’t. I still felt so alone, until she came. She had her hair in a long messy ponytail, a shirt with a bunch of stains, a pair of jogging shorts, and no shoes. I could tell that she was one of us. I approached her with a smile on my face.
“Hey I’m Lizzie! What’s your name?” I happily asked her.
“Jenny. My name is Jenny,” she snapped back at me her tone very bitter.
“Well if you don’t mind my asking, how did you get here?”
“You really wanna know?” I was skeptical at first, but then slowly nodded my head. “Sit down little one, I’ve got a story for you.” Sitting down next to her, she scooted closer to me, and began to tell her story.
“It was the middle of the night when I heard the loud sound, a sound so clear, yet so hard to determine where it had come from. I gently stepped down the stairs and looked through the wooden rods of my staircase. There before me I saw my mother on the ground, and my father with the gun in his hand. I didn’t cry. Crying is for babies my mom always said. When my father made eye contact with me, he didn’t look like the same man that I had known for all of my life. I looked at him curiously, and studied the features of his face for any signs of remorse. Nothing. I then ran back upstairs, grabbed my backpack, and put my shoes on. I went into my mom and dad’s bedroom, and grabbed the chair from my mom’s vanity. Moving the chair to the closet, I stood on it, and reached for the little brown box. Inside the box, there was over 200 dollars and a picture of the three of us at Disneyland last summer. That was when the first and only tear slipped from eye. Wiping it away with my sleeve, I quickly grabbed the money and picture, and ran downstairs. Oddly enough my father, was standing in the same spot where I had left him. I looked at him one last time, and then walked outside.
There was no place to go and no family to be with. I walked down the street, keeping my head down the entire time. Suddenly, someone ran into me, and caused me to fall and drop my backpack. This person helped me up, and grabbed my backpack as well. Looking up, I saw that he was a boy probably around my age.

“So, are you a runaway?” he asked me, and I nodded, unable to form words. “I’m coming with you.”

“Okay.” I squeaked out. “How old are you?” I asked him.

“I will be 11 in March. God, what’s it to you?” he snapped back at me.

“I was just asking a question. You don’t have to be so rude.”

“I’m sorry. How old are you?” he mumbled.

“I’m turning nine in a few months,” I said, and he nodded. There was a silence between us, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet; it almost felt peaceful. The sun was starting to peak above the horizon, and I was getting very tired. About a mile down the road, I saw a park with a pond and some benches.

“Hey, can we stop at that park ahead. My legs are really sore.” He nodded at me, and we continued our journey down the road. Finally, we neared the park, and both ran to the bench. I sat down on it, and began to trace my name in the dirt.

“Jenny. That’s a nice name.”


“Thanks, I guess. What’s your name?”

“Lucas, but you can call me Luke,” he stated. I didn’t say anything, but walked over to the swing set that was a little bit farther ahead. Luke sat down on the swing next to me, and was very peaceful, until their was a buzzing sound among us. It was coming from his pocket, and I saw his jeans light up. He pulled out the object, and I then realized that it was a cell phone. I have never had one, as neither of my parents ever felt that it was necessary.

“What?” he growled to the person on the other line. He got off the swing, and began to walk away from me. I couldn’t hear much of the conversation, but I did hear him say, “I’m not coming back.” After a few minutes, he was sitting on the park bench with his head in his hands.

“Why did you run away?” I inquired, as I sat next to him.

“My dad is just really annoying, and I don’t want to live there anymore. My stepmom hates me. I wish I could say I was exaggerating, but she genuinely hates me. She keeps trying to replace my mom, but she never will. She will never be half the woman my mom was. I just don’t understand why she had to leave me.” He started to cry quietly, and I put my arm around him for comfort. I was the worst person to be there when someone needed comforting, but we were all each other had.

“You have to go back. Your dad misses you so much, I mean why else would he have called? Come on, we are going back to your house now.” I got up and pulled him with me. I expected him to be hesitant, but to my surprise he obliged. We walked to the entrance of the park before turning the corner to go back the way we came.

“You never told me why you ran away.” he said, with hint of a curiosity in his tone.

“My dad killed my mom, and now I have no one.” I said as bluntly as possible. I didn’t really want to talk about it.

He stopped walking, and looked at me. The very tense expression that he had for most of the day was gone, and the features of his face softened. He grabbed my wrist, and pulled me in for a hug. I couldn’t really tell you the reason why, but I started to cry. I remember him joking around that I got his shirt all wet.

“You’re going to come back to my house, and stay with me.” I didn’t say anything, just smiled at him. We walked back to his house in silence, and it was then that I got a good look at him. His brown curly hair and deep grey eyes made him look different from any other boy that I’ve seen. He had one dimple on his left cheek, and was unusually tall for a 10 year old. I was snapped out of my thoughts by him pulling me into a driveway. I hadn’t even realized that we were already at his house, but I guess that happens when you are in your own world. We went up to his house, and Luke knocked on the front door. An older man opened it, and looked at us with the biggest smile on his face.

“Lucas!” he exclaimed, and picked the boy up while spinning him around. I did as I always do, and awkwardly stood there, watching and observing. He put Luke down, and cleared his throat.

“Lucas, who is this?” the man had asked.

“Dad, this is my new best friend, Jenny. This is my dad.”

“Hello, nice to meet you.” I said, giving my usual sheepish smile.

“Jenny doesn’t have any family, so can she stay with us?” Luke asked with the biggest grin on his face.

“What do you mean she doesn’t have a family?”

“They are just all gone,” Luke said, while grabbing my hand, and squeezing it.

“You two come inside, and tell me all about your story,” Luke’s father said.
We went inside, and Luke began to tell him of all that we did. When he got to the part in the story where it talked about my parents, I looked down slightly. His dad looked upset for me, because now he finally understood what Luke meant by “all gone”.

“Well, that is some story, but I’m afraid I have to bring your friend to the orphanage in San Diego tomorrow. She can’t live with us forever,” he said, looking at us both apprehensively. We both muttered an “ok” before going to the kitchen to eat. That was easily the best night of my life. We played games, ate so much food, and had such a good time. Night time came and Luke and I were soon out like a light in his living room. It was the most peaceful sleep I had ever had. Morning came sooner than later, and before I knew it I was getting ready to go in the car so I could be taken to the orphanage. Luke came outside, and hugged me tight.

“I will never forget you Jenny. When I get old enough I’m going to come adopt you, and we can have the best family together. Just you and me,” he said through gentle sobs.

“Alright Luke, I’ll wait for you.” I stepped away from him, and got into the car. We waved to each other one last time, before the car pulled out of the driveway. I cried for most of the way there, and when we pulled in, I cried a little more. Luke’s father brought me into the orphanage, where he talked to some of the workers, and signed some papers. A few hours later, Luke’s father was leaving, but before he left, he kissed my forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and slowly walked out of the building. That was the first orphanage I have ever been in. Right now sitting here with you, this is my 17th.”

“Did you ever see Luke again?” I inquired.

“Nope, haven’t seen him in eight years, but I know I will see him again. I just do.”
I scooted closer to her, so I was almost leaning into her side. We then slowly drifted off to sleep.

“Jenny?” the man had asked. I lazily opened my eyes, and looked at him curiously. He was very tall and had messy brown hair with little curls at the end. She looked up at who had called her name, and studied his features just as I had.

“It can’t be,” she muttered to herself in a tone that was only audible for the two of us to hear. He smiled at her, and I saw a distinct dimple in his left cheek. I finally realized who it was, when Jenny rose from the floor, and ran to the man.
“Luke!” she cried, as she ran to his open arms. He picked her up, and spun her around. I looked at them, smiling. Smiling because she was happy, he was happy, and they both got the families that they deserved.



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