Him, Carey Heywood [books for 5 year olds to read themselves .TXT] 📗

and finally find a student directory. It doesn’t have his cell phone number in it, but it does have his parents’ home number. I can at least leave a message with his mom or dad, hopefully his dad, for Will to call me once he gets home. I owe it to him, after everything that we have been through, to talk to him about what Jessica said. I'm really hopeful that his dad will answer. Ever since she caught us by the pool, I've been weirded out by his mom.

I dial his number and cringe when his mother answers. "Price residence."

Shit! "Um, hello, Mrs. Price. Is Will home?"

"His name is William. Who is this?"

Like they don’t have caller ID, I think to myself. "It's Sarah Miller."

"Why didn’t you call his cell phone, Sarah?"

This is not going well. "I can't find my phone and can’t remember his number. If you could give it to me or maybe just let him know I called?"

"I'm sorry. I can't do that, Sarah."

Um, what? "Pardon?"

"I'm not going to give you William's number or tell him you called."

"Why not?"

"I know what you are after, Sarah, and I'm going to tell you right now you are not good enough for my son."

"But—"

"There is nothing you can offer him. He is going away to school, and it is time for this relationship of yours to end."

"But I love him."

"Sarah, I am sure you are a nice girl, but William deserves better. Someone who has been brought up the same way as him."

"He doesn’t care about any of that." I'm frantic.

"Maybe. But he does care a great deal of what his mother and father think. Which is why we have invited Jessica Burton to come with us to Italy."

"Why?" I just don’t understand.

"Sarah, let me make this clear. You are not the type of girl William needs in his life. If you continue this, whatever it is, with William, we won't pay for his college. Is that what you want?"

"Please...no."

The line is dead. She hung up on me. I stare at the phone in my hand. What just happened? Could they really refuse to pay for his school? That would kill him. And that stuff about Jessica. It’s true. She’s going with them to Italy. I set the house phone down on the kitchen table and slump into a chair. This is not happening. This cannot be happening. All I want to do is crawl back into my bed and never come out of it again, but I also feel this overwhelming need to get as far away from Decatur as I can. I cannot see Will. At worst, he’s dumping me for Jessica, and at best, we can’t be together anyway because his parents won’t pay for his school.

Something across the room catches my eye. It's a picture on the refrigerator of my uncle Chip sitting on his motorcycle. I just figured out a place to go to. I quietly make my way upstairs to my room and pack everything I can into my backpack, and an old duffle bag. I really hope Brian will forgive me someday for what I'm about to do. I load my stuff into his piece of shit Ford Escort and grab the envelope from a birthday card my uncle sent me. I hope he meant it when he said I’m always welcome. I write my parents a note and leave it on my bed so they won’t worry, with a P.S. at the end to Brian to apologize for stealing his car.

I leave Brian's car parked at the train station. I lock the keys in it, but my mom has a spare set so he should be fine. I'm pretty sure my uncle lives near Trenton, so I buy my ticket and wait for my train. The wait isn’t long, which is good because I have been staring at the front entrance for the past hour, expecting my parents to walk in. The one thing going for me is that they probably don’t even know I came home last night and won't be missing me for another couple of hours. By that time, I will be well on my way to New Jersey. The train is half full, but more passengers board than depart every stop we make. I purposely pick a seat near the bathroom so I won’t have to worry too much about my duffle.

The seat next to me is empty, thankfully. An older woman across the aisle tries to small talk with me, but I pretend to sleep so she'll leave me alone. I'm feeling strangely like none of this is real, like I haven’t just run away from home. Like last night never happened, and I’m going to wake up at home in my own bed and things with Will will be the same. Somewhere in Virginia, I get up and visit the dining cart, unable to avoid my grumbling stomach any longer. I get a sandwich, some chips, and a juice. Back at my seat, I struggle to get it all down. I was so hungry before, but now that I have food right in front of me, I can't seem to eat it. Everything makes me think of Will. If he was here, he would be hogging all my chips and trying to steal my pickle.

The only reason I manage to finish my lunch is because concentrating on eating is somehow keeping me from crying. The train is fuller now, and I know in the next stop or so I may lose the empty seat beside me. I relax after the stop in D.C. when enough passengers get off that I think I might make it the whole way without having to sit next to someone. Instead, in Baltimore, I meet Sawyer, which seems like a strange name for a girl, but it suits her. She's my age, or maybe a year older by my guess, and also heading to Trenton. I haven’t told her that's