Runaways (Orphans 5)

"Or becoming one of those girls Norman and Nana's son accused us of being . . . live on the streets?" She shook her head. "You don't want that, Brooke. We just have to . ."

"What?"

"Be wards of the state awhile longer," she said. "It's our particular miserable fate. I'm sorry."

"Me too. Don't tell them yet," I said, gazing at the station wagon. "Let's go as far as we can just for . . ."

"Fun? I don't think Raven and Butterfly see this as fun anymore," Crystal said.

"No, not fun, just to feel we really tried. Okay?" "As long as you understand what the end will be," she said.

"I do." I swallowed down my sob and took a deep breath. She put her arm around me and hued me to her.

Crystal could be very affectionate sometimes. She wasn't all brains. She was just good at keeping her feelings under an armor of words and logic and facts. I had no doubt that in her quiet, private moments, she cried as much as any of the rest of us did.

"Let's wake them," I said, "and get back on the road."

She nodded and looked at me with those perceptive intense eyes of hers.

"I almost wish we were stopped and caught. It would be easier than giving up," she said.

I nodded.

"Yes, I suppose we could live with ourselves much easier then."

Butterfly was just rising when we opened the doors. Raven moaned and turned so she could bury her face in her pillow.

"Come on, Raven. We've got to put the back seat up and get going. I don't want anyone finding us here," I said, "and arresting us for trespassing."

She sat up, a look of exhaustion in her face.

"Slave drier," she said. "You should be working for the state prison system."

"We could all end up in it if we don't get moving," I replied.

She and Crystal fixed the back seat and then Raven got into the front and I started the engine. I backed out of the dead-end road and we were on our way again. When we saw a sign advertising an allyou-can-eat breakfast for one dollar, ninety- nine cents, Raven pleaded with Crystal.

"That's cheap enough so we don't have to brown bag it, isn't it, Crystal?"

Crystal relented and we stopped. It was cafeteria style and populated mostly by senior citizens.

"It's because they live on a strict fixed income," Crystal explained.

Many heads turned our way when we approached the line, got our trays and moved through.

"It almost feels like the Lakewood," Raven said. "I'm losing my appetite."

Nevertheless, she ate very well, going back for seconds on the scrambled eggs. We used the bathrooms, washed up, and got ready to get back on the road. In the parking lot, standing near our station wagon was an elderly lady wearing a coat that I thought was much too heavy for the time of year. She had at least a dozen brown and black bobby pins holding her wispy, gray hair up, strands falling loosely on the sides and back of her head. She wore no makeup, but her cheeks were rosy. Her dark eyes were small and her mouth, although full, slanted a bit in the right corner. When I mentioned that to Crystal, she sai

d she thought the woman might have had a stroke. She stood straight enough in granny shoes with heavy, thick heels. However, they looked like they had seen their best days about ten years ago.

She held a shopping bag that was stuffed with garments, its sides bulging. As we approached, she stared at us cautiously and then smiled at Butterfly, who flashed one of her prizewinners back.

"What a sweet little girl you are. My granddaughter Donna has hair like you, although yours is a little more like spun gold. What's your name?" she asked quickly.

"Janet," Butterfly said.

"Janet, you're going to be a beautiful lady someday. Just like my Marion. She could have been a movie star. Are you girls all by yourselves?" she asked.