Runaway

[Bethany Jordan]

10:15.

Beth stared at the clock on the wall. The bus station was cold and harshly lit, the florescent lights glaring brightly down on the room. She'd already been there for half an hour, pacing the floor. It wasn't until the last five minutes or so that she finally took up a chair near the wall. The cold hard plastic dug uncomfortably into the back of her legs as she sat stiffly. In her lap, she held her messenger bag, stuffed so full the zipper barely held it closed, matching the state of her backpack in the chair next to her. Her fingers fidgeted nervously with the strap, adjusting it several times before finally letting go when she noticed a couple watching her from a few feet away.

She should have been used to drawing attention, with her wildly colored hair and more metal in her face than most people would think was possible. But this was different. She knew she looked a wreck, her eyes red and puffy, her blue-black hair a mess under the hood of her jacket. She didn't care anymore. Let them stare.

"Number 9, now boarding for New York City!"

Beth looked up at the sound of the intercom and grabbed her bags, clutching her ticket in one hand. The knot in her stomach grew with each step she took up into the bus and down the aisle. Sliding into a seat in the back she held her bags against her chest as if they would cover her. She felt stripped down, exposed for all the world to see the girl under the mask. Underneath the tough girl attitude. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't get the mask back on. It was broken beyond repair.

And she had shattered it. With one swing at her brother's face. One moment of complete loss of control. She knew they'd be looking for her. She'd crossed a line and there was no going back. No amount of apologizing or detention could make up for that. They'd expel her. Arrest her. Send her to juvie. It had all fallen apart and there was nothing left to do.

Except run.

She didn't have much time to think about what to bring so had just grabbed whatever clothes she had clean and shoved them into the two bags she owned. She had thrown her comm, medbadge and phone on the desk. She didn't want Luke to be able to track her down like he'd done so many times before. She topped off the bags with her sketchbook and pencils and her Christmas present from Diego, Warrior Woman: A History. As she turned to leave, the small statuette on her bedside table caught her eye. The one Brandon had made her. It was of her, smiling. To help you remember happier times, he had said. To remind you that people around here do really care about you.

Bethany wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her coat and pulled the little bust out of the front pocket of her backpack. She ran her fingertip along the sculpted edges of it. To help you remember... She needed all the reminding she could get. Something to help her cling to those memories like a life raft. The bus lurched forward and she found herself staring out the window as the city passed by.

By 10:45, Bethany Jordan was gone.

[Bethany Jordan]

The eastern sky was just getting light when the bus had finally stopped and Beth had filed out into the crush of the city. She wandered the sidewalks, never raising her gaze from the concrete, until the streetlights winked out one by one. She was a ghost, passing through the streets of the city, bumping into people, but never really there. Never a part of it. Hardly noticed and easily forgotten.

Eventually she found her way to the Twin Cedars Inn, a one story motel that looked like something out of a bad TV show. The overweight man behind the counter had looked her up and down, running his hands through his black hair and pointing her at the door. "No vacancies," he said, his voice gruff as it broke down into a cough.

"Look, I can pay. I just need a place to sleep." Her voice was small, quiet. Nothing like the brash, boisterous tone she was used to. She almost didn't recognize it.

"I said, 'no vacancies', kid. Now buzz off." Quickly, without even thinking about the consequences, Beth pulled the money she had from her pocket and placed two hundreds on the counter. The man, Carl, eyed them carefully before pocketing them and waving Beth outside and down the line of doors. "What's your name, girl?"

Beth had to stop herself before she answered. "Marie. Boyd." Her middle name. Her mother's maiden name. Common enough names that they couldn't be tracked.

"Well, Marie, you'll be in number sixteen. It's forty bucks a night, in advance. No checks. No credit. No exceptions." Beth kept her hood pulled over her head as the man flatly rambled off his rehearsed speech. "You don't pay, you're out on the street. You do something stupid and get the cops called over here, the street is the least of your worries."

Beth took the key from Carl's hand, thanking him quietly and unlocking the door. The hinges creaked as she opened the door to see a small bed, just big enough for two people if they got chummy. In the corner, a narrow doorway opened to a small bathroom next to a dresser with an old TV atop it, rabbit ears and all. She tossed her backpack on the bed, followed by her messenger bag before heading into the bathroom.

It hadn't occurred to her until she had seen a few dozen looks on the street. There would be reports, Amber alerts. They'd be able to find her. Unless she disappeared completely. So she'd stopped at some corner drugstore on her way. Grabbing the cheapest hair bleaching kit she could along with some food and basics she'd forgotten, she made her way to the counter. She had barely heard the total as she handed over her money, the money she'd taken from Erin and Ten Strike as she left Paragon.

So there she stood staring at her reflection in the small mirror. Her hair was still wet, wrapped up in a towel she had brought with her, but a bit of light wispy hair peeked out from the edge near her ear. Her hand shaking, she reached up and took out the silver stud that pierced the side of her nose and dropped it on the back of the sink. The two rings in her right eyebrow followed. Then the black and red ring in her lip. Before long, she had a handful of metal, littering the back of the sink. Finally she stuck out her tongue and unscrewed the barbell through it, dropping it on the pile with a final clink. Beth ran her hands over her face, for the first time in years feeling the uninterrupted smoothness of the skin.

Beth untwisted the towel, flipping her hair back. She couldn't bring herself to look. Not yet. She drug the brush through the tangled mess, inhaling the chemicaly odor. The smell usually brought her some joy, the knowledge that she was reinventing her look again. But not now. Not like this. Tossing the towel on the floor she made her way to the bed and sat down, still running a brush through her damp hair.

It wasn't until she looked up and saw the reflection in the TV screen that it hit her. A girl stared back at her, but she didn't recognize her. Her hair was ash blonde and shorter than it had been that morning. She wore no makeup and already she could see the beginnings of the holes in her face healing, closing. There was no going back to who she was before. She wasn't Bethany anymore. No longer a student of Saint Joe's, or the sister of Brandon. No longer the up and coming freelance clothing designer with her life in front of her. Not part of Tony's crew or dating Luke.

She wasn't Bethany. Bethany was gone and Marie was left in her place.

She laid on her side, hugged the pillow to her chest and cried until she slept.

[Brandon]

Brandon sat in the police station, staring at the officer across the desk from him. He'd been in these sort of places a few times before, mostly in situations where the officer in charge was teaching him about what cops did all day. Once he'd gone to a jail with his dad and Beth, his dad's effort to show the two of them what happened to criminals (Beth had stolen a candy bar). His parents sat next to him, his mom a mess and his dad staring at the officer with burning eyes.

The officer, Detective Parsons, leaned forward and said, "Mister Jordan, I'm doing everything I can, and my people are doing even more. We found her last known location, the bus station where she boarded a southbound bus. Every single police station on that bus's route has received a poster and information on your girl. People are looking for her, sir. We're really doing all we can."

"What can we do, Detective?" said Thomas Jordan. Brandon's father's voice had always been strong, comforting. Now it was strained, but it was still steady. Brandon picked at the peeling vinyl that covered his chair.

Parsons leaned back and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Sir, you and your wife have a long record of helping this city, and your home city. Your boy's a credit to that record, and Bethany's been helpful in a lot of ways. I know that you're looking to do anything you can. There's simply nothing more that I can suggest."

Thomas Jordan stood and shook Parson's hand, as did Brandon. "Thanks officer," said Thomas. "I'll be around for a while, at least until we find her."

The Detective nodded, and the Jordans left. Outside the station, in their rented car, his mom broke down again. Thomas put his hand on her shoulder and turned to face Brandon. "Tell me again."

Brandon shrank down into his seat. He'd told the story a dozen times, so he hit the high points. "Beth's been having a hard time, with school and boys." And you. "But she wouldn't go to a counselor and she wouldn't talk to anyone, and I finally got so scared that I had to talk seriously to her. I wouldn't stop or back off, because I was scared of what she'd do. You know? So finally she got mad and started hitting me, and then she ran out."

Thomas sighed. The story was the same each time, with more or less detail. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Brandon shrugged. "She told me not to."

Thomas stared at him. Brandon was different in some way. He'd fallen off-track somehow, grades and cheerful letters notwithstanding. He didn't meet his father's eyes anymore, not straight-on like he'd been taught. "And you just what, followed orders? Brandon, that is the most irresponsible-"

Brandon, for possibly the first time in his life, interrupted his father. "Dad, she doesn't trust you."

Thomas stopped short, as much in shock about Brandon having interrupted as he was about the words the boy had used. "What?"

Brandon blew a deep breath out his nose. He'd jumped in, now. Time to see if he could swim. "You don't...she just doesn't think that you understand anything about her. And I think she's right. She's not...perfect, dad. She's not what I try to be, she goes her own way, and I think that maybe she has a hard time thinking that you and mom get that. I know I didn't, until maybe this year, and she started talking to me, but not much. But she thinks that you wouldn't care, and she doesn't think ANYONE cares, so she's been trying to deal with all this on her own. And I had to help, you know? So I said what I said, and she hit me, and I think maybe I stopped her from doing something really stupid." He took another breath, but there weren't any more words lurking.

His parents both stared at him, his mom shocked out of her tears by the flood of words. Just as hope was beginning to surface in Brandon's chest, his father said, "Well, I don't understand any of that at all. Unless you've really got something to contribute here, Brandon, just let the adults handle it."

Sudden rage swept through Brandon. He clenched his fists before he could burn through the seat and said, "What, like you handled this already? Great job, dad!"

Thomas kept staring. His son had gone insane, and his daughter was just gone. "You keep a civil tongue in your head, young man. Your sister's missing, and it looks like it might be because of something you said to her."

The shock swept through Brandon, his father's words an echo of what Luke had been saying for days now. "Me. I SAVED her! Like a hero! Like you want me to be!"

Thomas just shook his head and turned back to face the windshield. He started the car and put it in gear, saying, "You have a lot to learn about being a hero."

"You have a lot to learn about Beth. And me. I can find her without your help." A sudden draft swept chilled January air into the car, shattering Brandon's words and sweeping them into the afternoon sunlight. Thomas turned back, but it was too late. Brandon was gone.

[Bethany Jordan]

"Hey! Marie, come on!"

Beth looked up and grabbed the plates from the woman in front of her, apologizing. "Sorry, Judy. Table 12?" Judy nodded and Beth turned on her heel, weaving through the people that crowded the small diner. She blew her light hair out of her face as she set the two plates piled high with eggs and toast and bacon down before the couple near the wall. "You need anything else?" Her voice was still small and quiet. She wasn't sure if she'd ever get her old voice back.

They shook their heads and Beth turned to the next table, pulling a small notepad from her white apron. She had been gone from Paragon for over a week now. She knew they were looking for her. She had seen the poster in a gas station window. Her yearbook picture took up a quarter of it, grainy, black and white. The attendant inside didn't even glance at it as she quietly paid for some food and left. She had stopped and studied the poster for moment.

"Missing: Bethany Marie Jordan, 16. Last seen on January 11, 2009, near the campus of Rhode Island State University in Paragon City." It went on to describe her, eye color, dyed hair, various piercings, nicknames. At the bottom was printed a detective's name and number. Detective Parsons. PPD. 555-8364.

They'd never find her.

It hadn't been until Friday that Beth had ventured back out of her motel room. She paid Carl at the desk and stuffed the last of her money in her pants pocket. She would run out if she didn't find some income. And fast. That's where Judy had come in. A dozen blocks from the Twin Cedars Inn was a little hole in the wall, 24-hour diner. The hand-written sign in the window had said "Help Wanted". Beth had just hoped they wanted the kind of help that didn't require a lot of questions. Luckily, Judy seemed to understand what Beth was talking about, even the parts she didn't say.

"You don't have your social security card?"

Beth winced and shook her head. "Nah. Me and my folks just moved to the city last week and I think it got lost in the mix."

Judy sized her up, her tired eyes taking in the girl. Beth gaze diverted to the floor and she crossed her arms. There was something wounded, vulnerable and broken about her. Something Judy knew all too well. She smiled a small, kind smile at her. "Alright, Marie. Go talk to Linda, she'll hook you up with a uniform. You can start right now, if you're ready."

"Really? Thanks. Oh thank you."

"Yeah, just make sure you get me that card as soon as you can so we can make this all legal." Judy tilted her head towards the kitchen. "Go get a uniform."

Beth now wore that pale blue uniform, leaning her forehead against the wall in the kitchen. One weekend taking orders, balancing plates of food and smiling fakely at the guys flirted with her and she was ready to just give up and try to find something else. She took a deep breath and pushed herself up.

"You gonna make it, new girl?"

Beth turned to Linda at her shoulder, blinking. "Oh, yeah. Just catching my breath."

"It gets easier. Just give it a little time." Linda pat her on the back and moved past her to post her tickets on the wall. "Shouldn't you be heading home? Don't want your family to get worried."

Stunned, Beth nodded and watched Linda move back out among the tables. She swallowed hard and walked out the front door, her uniform draped over her arm. Just across the street, like always, was a small payphone. She had passed it half a dozen times now, every time glancing at it, willing herself to just go pick it up, to let her family know she was okay. She quickly crossed to the street and lift the receiver to her ear.

Would they want to hear from her? Were they angry with her? She couldn't call her parents. She didn't want to hear from them. She'd just let them down again. Big time. No, she couldn't call them. Before she could change her mind, she fed a handful of coins into the machine and punched in the first number on her mind. It was Tuesday morning. He'd be in class. Or at practice. She could just leave a message.

Brandon's voice rang cheerfully through the line. "Hey, you've reached Io's bachelor pad. You know the drill." Beth couldn't help but smile as the tone beeped in her ear. Leave it to Bran to cheer her up without even trying.

She took a deep breath and steadied her voice. "Hey, Bran. It's Beth. I'm fine. I'm alright. I saw the poster. Don't... don't try to find me. I'm okay. And I'm sorry I hurt you, but please don't look for me. Tell Mom and Dad. Bye, Bran."

Quietly, she dropped the phone back into it's cradle and turned to start her walk back to her room.