Twisted Roots (DeBeers 3)

"Where is she now?"

"Who knows. With her social worker maybe. That's a waste of time, too. In short," he said. "I couldn't be more ready or anxious to get away from it all, too."

We were both silent for a moment. "Where would we go?" I finally asked.

He lay back on the bed and put his hands behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling.

"We could go on the road, try to get small jobs here and there as a duet. You're almost seventeen and certainly could pass for eighteen or nineteen."

"Are we good enough to get jobs?"

"Sure we are and we look good. too. At least, you do." "I wonder if we really could do that," I said.

He sat up quickly. "Actually. I have had a wild idea for some time now, fantasizing about it ever since we started rehearsing."

"What?" I asked, my heart pounding with excitement.

"Everyone who runs away goes hitchhiking across country, sleeps in one slop house after another, or lives like a homeless person camped out in hallways and under bridges. The country is full of thousands of people our age and younger living like la-amps, doing almost anything for a meal, a ride."

"How would we be different?"

He smiled. "We would rent a motor home," he said. "It's the cheapest way to travel. Most runaways eventually run out of money and end up on the streets. A motor home is economical housing, and we would be able to always be on the move, if we need be."

"That does sound like a good idea." "Doesn't it?"

But do you know anything about it, about getting one of those vehicles?"

He nodded. "I know where I can get one relatively cheap. I found it advertised on the Internet, but it's still a lot more money than I have," he added, his smile drifting off his face to be replaced by the face of reality.

"I don't have that much available, either. All my money is in a trust."

"I figured that."

"But what about my credit card?"

"I thought about that. too. The problem is once you use that, and every time you use it, you leave a trail. Hannah. I'm sure your mother and your father would come after us. You're still underage. I might even get into trouble taking you along,' he said. "No," he continued, lying back again. "we're both trapped, "Without more money, some real money, it would be impassible," he said, quickly turning off the excitement in bath our eyes,

"Maybe I could sell things," I suggested.

"It takes time to do that, and there's a good chance you would be discovered doing it. I've pawned things. I can tell you that you don't get anywhere near the value of what you have."

"I don't like feeling like this, feeling so helpless and trapped and unloved!" I cried and threw myself against him. He put his arm around me and stroked my hair.

"We are all in our own little cages, I guess, cages we didn't create for ourselves. Like your uncle in a way."

I buried my face in his chest to stifle my sobs and tears. After a few moments I sat up and wiped my cheeks.

"I don't care what Mommy says. I'm going to visit Uncle Linden. He is surely terribly confused and alone after hearing the news. I can just imagine how he was left sitting in some corner of his room, wondering what was happening."

I got up.

"Now? You're going there now?"

"Yes." I said determinedly, "Would you come with me?"

He shrugged, "Sure," he said. "If we're going to get into trouble being together, we might as %yell do something worthwhile together."

I smiled. "You're the best friend I have now, Heyden." "I want to be more than a friend. Hannah."