Page 54 of Script Swap
But still nothing.
Maybe it had all been in my head.
I ran another mile, figured that was more than enough in the way of penance for how I’d acted toward Bobby, and turned around.I slowed to a walk to catch my breath.I was going to apologize again, even though Bobby would insist it wasn’t a big deal.I was going to say I was sorry.I knew Bobby hadn’t meant anything.He hadn’t beentryingto pressure me.Bobby loved me.And a big way Bobby showed that love was by taking care of me.He reminded me when it was time to leave for school (I still wasn’t keen on this whole “having a job” thing).He knew the exact number of sadness cookies I needed after a bad day.For heaven’s sake, he made me eat my vegetables (not in a weird way, but he did look disappointed when I “forgot” about my green beans).He always remembered a jacket—which, now that my sweat was drying, I wished I’d brought.When we went running, he made sure my laces were tied.
And, of course, right then one of my laces was flopping with every step.
I knelt to tie it.
The most frustrating part of the whole evening was that it was the exact opposite of what I’d been trying to do.For months now, I’d been trying to show Bobby that I could be a better person.I could be more like him.I worked out.I ate right.I went to sleep at a normal hour.(Okay, most of the time I went to sleep when Keme did, but I still think that was an improvement.) Dashiell Dawson Dane: The Bionic Man Project (or whatever I was calling it) was supposed to prove to Bobby that I was the kind of person he could spend the rest of his life with.It was supposed to show him thatIwas ready for the next step.That I wasn’t—I don’t know—going to muddle along in this weird, outgrown adolescence forever.That I could be a real partner.That we could build a life together.
Instead, he’d tried to help me tonight, and I’d thrown a hissy fit.
Well, I’d go back home.I’d apologize.And because Bobby was always so gracious, he’d forgive me.
Again.
When I straightened from tying my laces, someone was standing there—maybe a hundred yards away.They were nothing more than a shadowy outline, barely visible against the darkness of the forest.But they were there.
They hadn’t caught up to me.
They’d slowed their pace to match mine.
And now they were standing there, watching me.Waiting.
What was I supposed to do?Turn around and keep running?How far was the next town?Ten miles?Twenty?Even if my body had transformed into the ultimate running machine, I had the sneaking suspicion that this person, whoever they were, wasn’t going to have any problem keeping up with me.And when I inevitably slowed down—
The person started to walk toward me.Slow, even steps.Chunks of asphalt gritted and grated, breaking the night’s stillness.
I glanced at the opposite shoulder.Would it be weird if I crossed?
Who cared?
I cut across the state highway, remembering too late Bobby’s warning to run against traffic.
The shadowy figure did too, moving at an angle that brought them across the road and toward me at the same time.
I crossed back to the side I’d originally been on.That should have sent a message.
But the shadowy figure changed their path and kept coming toward me.
Fight, flight, or freeze.
For about half a second, my body chose freeze.
And then headlights appeared.The car solidified out of the darkness as it came toward us.
A car.
Help.
I stepped into the road, waving my arms.
The shadowy figure started to run toward me.
“Help!”I shouted.I jumped.More arm-waving.“Please stop!Help me!”
The shadowy figure became a shape picked out against the headlights as the car raced forward.
