I hate shopping malls. I don’t hate the mall its self but what I do hate is the people in it. The prissy pink large shopping bags are clung tight to skinny girls with dyed blonde hair. They walk around with their friends, but apparently they have other friends too, because for some reason they feel it necessary to be talking to them over their expensive phones. I guess it must be normal for a girl my age to love the mall unconditionally, but it that case I’m a not a normal girl. I am a runaway.
“ Emerson quickly grab the bags” Catcher, our leader shouted. We were on the run again, this time to a little town in Massachusetts, called Marblehead. According to Emerson’s manual on Massachusetts, it was a small historic town, with cute shops. This year I was enrolled for their eighth grade. I was not the least bit excited. Catcher, our runaway leader was enrolled in the high school class of ninth grade. It was midnight. We were leaving our old home (month old home) in Florida. It was the dead of winter, but temperature stayed in the 60’s. The forecast for Marblehead was snow, snow, and more snow. I sighed. I got to choose the last two places we lived, and they were both warm and, city like, so we would stay unnoticed. (And warm) but my little brother Rye (age 8) wanted to see snow. So he chose Massachusetts and narrowed down from there. Our plane was at 4 in the morning, so we quickly left our mansion, and stuffed into the two vans, we had borrowed from Catcher’s “friend”. Levi was driving one, and Catcher was driving the other. Even though they were only 15, Catcher had some” buddies” in the fake license making business. I was assigned into Levi’s car. And he smiled back at me, from the front seat. “ I hear Mass. Is a great place for hippies.” He checked out my outfit. Ok so I was a little in love with the concept of peace throughout the world. I was wearing a shrug shirt, which had the words: ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE, scribbled across the top, skinny jeans, and a tight band across my fiery dyed red hair. “ For the record, this is not even close to hippie!” I rolled my eyes at him, and glanced at his outfit to make a joke out of. I couldn’t. Levi was the definition of perfection. He wore electric green Nike’s, tight black skinny jeans, a white V-neck short-sleeved shirt, and a blue beanie hat. His dark brown hair shot out from the bottom of the beanie hat, as he shrugged at me. “ For the record, it is.” He started up the car, as I fanned myself off. I was getting wicked hot in these skinny jeans, but Catcher said it was below freezing in Marblehead, and to bring a sweatshirt. “ Hayden! Hayden! Check this!” Rye squealed. He was stuffed in between two huge bags, and was playing his D.S. He pushed the screen up into my face, and I watched Mario jump up and down as confetti piled high along him. I smiled. He pulled the D.S. back to his wide blue eyes. Rye may seem like the innocent little clueless kid, but he was a very knowing little kid. You see, we aren’t just runaways. We are psychic too.
© Copyright 2016 Maisie Miller. All rights reserved.
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