The Runner

New school. New state. New family. New life. I’ve been in six foster homes; been

adopted and put back for adoption two times; ran away five times. I’ve been to nine

different states. Utah, Pennsylvania, California, Idaho, Montana, Texas, Wyoming,

Alabama, and my most recent one – with my sixth foster home and ninth state – Florida.

They call me the Runner. It’s been my nickname ever since the first time I ran

away. It was six years ago, when I was ten. I was with my first adopted family in

California. At first they were really nice to me when they were at my first foster home.

“We will take care of Cerulean,” Mr. And Mrs. Alexander – Rose and Damen

--said to old foster parents, Evelyn and Roman Smith.

“I know you will,” Evelyn said with a smile. She knew they were strict, and

hoped that they would straighten me out.

I was a rebel, to put it in short words. I’d attempted to run away twice from

Evelyn’s place. I also beat up a kid for slamming me. His name is Vander. He’s a year

older than I, but was a lot smaller then. I was in the living room watching TV and he

came up and stood right in the way, facing me. I told him to move unless he wanted to

die (which wasn’t really effective coming from a ten year old) and he just smirked and

said, “What, are your parents going to come back from the dead and get me?”

I got really irritated and stood up to punch him. I got him right on the nose and it

started bleeding. He faced me and I puffed my chest and balled my fists at my side. He

pushed me back down and punched my cheek, making it sting. I lifted my legs pushed

hard at his stomach and he fell to the ground. I got up quickly and kneeled by him and

starting punching his face everywhere. Adrenaline rushed through me and I couldn’t stop.

Suddenly his hands were on my shoulders and he was pushing me side ways. I strained

against his grip but he was suddenly stronger. He lifted his balled fist and I squeezed my

eyes shut to prepare for what was going to happen next. My shoulders suddenly got

released and I dared to open my eyes. He stood up and walked away. I stood up and

stared at him. As he was about to leave the room, Roman walked in right at that moment

and saw our bloody faces and knuckles.

“What’s going on here,” he growled. Vander and I didn’t look at each other or

him. We were both terrified of what would happen next. After all, we were only ten and

eleven. “Fine,” Roman said, “If neither of you are going to tell me, then you are both

grounded.”

I looked over at Vander and scowled at him. It was his entire fault after all.

Anyways, Roman and Evelyn decided not to tell the Alexander’s about this “little

incident”, so they like to call it. They didn’t want to scare them away, but what they

really meant was, “You’re too harmful to live here but it will look bad on our part if we

put you in a different foster home so try and be good.” I wasn’t going to be good, and

they both knew that.

The first couple of weeks were good. Their daughter was too young to beat up

even though her baby sounds were very annoying I remained cool. Rose and Damen

Alexander seemed like a normal family. They both went to work while I went to school

and baby Lariah went to daycare. When Rose picked me up we went and got Lariah and

went home to cook dinner. I stayed in the living room with the baby until Damen got

home. Then I’d go up to my room until I’d be called for dinner. I never talked unless I

was spoken to. It was pretty easy, except for when they figured that out so they started

asking questions about me.

“What do you like to do,” they would ask.

“Be alone,” I would answer. Then they would look at each other and, what it

seemed like, have a silent conversation that I never understood. Sometimes I tried to read

their expressions, but I never got passed their masks.

It went on like this for a couple of weeks. Finally, they couldn’t bare my

quietness. I was up in my room when I heard a firm knock. I reluctantly got up from my

sitting position on my bed and opened the door. They looked into my almost eleven year

old eyes.

“We have a question for you, Cerulean,” Damen said. When I didn’t answer, they

continued. “Why are you so quiet?”

I shrugged and stretched my arm to shut the door. Damen caught my arm and

yanked me out of my room. I heard Rose gasp as Damen continued to pull me down the

hall. I followed at ease, not showing any emotion. I learned that showing emotion is a

sign of weakness. Damen abruptly stopped and turned to face me, hand still locked firmly

around my arm. I looked him straight in the eyes. He asked me another question, “ Are

you going to answer my question, Cerulean? Or do I have to show some punishment?”

He raised his arm above my head and I flinched.

“Honey, don’t,” Rose said only daring to take one-step closer.

“Stay out of this, Rose,” he replied. “Go downstairs. Now!” His yelling made me

flinch again and I heard high heels click down the hard wood stairs. I felt his eyes on me

and turned back to face him again. “Answer me!”

I looked up at his hand and looked down. Then I felt the weight of his hand plus

all of his strength hit me right on my side just below my rib cage. I let out a sound that I

never had recognized before. I’d gotten in fights before, but this pain was excruciating. I

shied away as far as I could, but his arm was longer than the space between us. He hit me

again in the same spot and I let out a cry of pain, but not letting a tear escape my pleading

eyes. I refused to talk, for I knew that he was only trying to get me to talk. He hit me

again, and again, until I could no longer stand and I hit the ground. Only then did he stop

hitting me.

I wanted him to start to cry and fall to ground with me and wrap me in his arms to

say he was sorry. Only it didn’t happen that way. He grabbed my face and forced me to

look at him. His lip curled into a snarl.

“You little brat! I thought I wanted a daughter; but you are a demonic child! I will

not have you in my house unless you straighten up and start showing some respect to

your parents!” As he talked, saliva was flying out of his mouth and onto my face.

I wiped off my face with my sleeve and peeled his hands away from my face. He

didn’t try and grab me as I stood up and started walking away. Before I entered my room,

I turned on my heel and looked at him. “You’re not my parents,” I said with an even

voice. Then I turned back, walked into my room, and shut the door softly.

I heard an agitated groan and heavy footsteps going down the stairs. When I heard

the front door slam, I looked out my window to find Damen getting in his car and driving

away. When his car disappeared, I walked in front of mirror and pulled my shirt half way

up. When I saw what damage was done, I flinched violently. There were purple and black

bruises on the left side of my stomach, below the rib cage. It was already starting to swell

and it hurt badly. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t risk it if someone

walked in and saw me like that. Instead, I went over to my desk, turned on the lamp, and

started planning out my run-away plan.

Being only ten, I was pretty smart when it came to running away and how to do it

prestigiously. This is how I did it: Once the Alexander’s were asleep, I would go down

the hall to Damen’s study. There he had a little box that he kept all of his money in. I

counted it when he was in the shower. There is two hundred thirty-five dollars. I checked

online to see how much a train ticket would cost for a one-way and one person, and it’s

seventy-five dollars. I would then have one hundred sixty dollars left. My destination was

Pennsylvania. I didn’t know anyone there. I didn’t know anyone anywhere, really. But I

thought that maybe a nice family would pick me up.

After I got all of the money into a safe part of my bag with some of my clothes

and notebook, I snuck out of the window to my room and landed in the backyard. There

were fences blocking my way to go into the other families yards, but there was a gate on

the east side of the house that I could easily jump over. Once I jump over it, I would

continue down the street going east toward the main part of town. There is a train station

close by the old shut down mall. Since it’s California, no one was going to think it’s

strange that ten year-old were getting on a train by herself. From there, I would go to

Pennsylvania and hide out there. I don’t know why I like that place so much, but it

seems…Safer. I couldn’t wait to leave.