Jaden Lost Forever | Chapters 39-42 added

Jaden Lost Forever
This is original work was inspiried by James Patterson.
Thanks!

Maturity: A few deaths, bad grammar, hick accents, and good laughs

Book One
Chapter 1
[Intro]

I woke up, hitting the alarm clock to snooze. It went off shortly and I climbed out of bed. I threw on some clothes and headed downstairs toward the dining room. I looked around warily; Mom and Dad should be home…It was Saturday. Raising my eyebrow, and look at a note on the fridge.
‘Ran to the store, be back shortly! Love, Mom’ it read.
I yawned and sat on the couch with my phone, I’d just wait until she they got back to do anything.

A soft knock at the door made me jump and I set down the phone and walked over to it. I was always extra careful when I was home alone, so I peered through the curtain. It was a cop. I was pretty sure my heart skipped a couple beats as a cracked open our wood door. The officer looked down at me,“Ma’am is this the Freeds’ home?"
“Yes,” I squeaked. The policeman looked at his clipboard and frowned,
“I am sorry to report that your parents have been killed in an explosion.”
That’s pretty much when my life starting falling apart.

After that day I played hooky—for the rest of my life. I read the Will over and over until my brain starting hurting and my eyes shut down. They had left me everything, except bills still had to be played and we weren’t rich. In fact, I was, like, poor. I had clothes and a roof over my pitiful head but I didn’t have anything else. Sure I had a phone but that’s all I had. We didn’t have a car. And I lived in a two bedroom apartment in the middle of New York.

My name is Jaden Freed, I lived in New York, New York. This is my life.


Chapter 2

I woke up it was Saturday, again.
A week later from…Tears welled in my eyes. I angrily brushed them away and got ready. I couldn’t take this anymore! I was miserable, lonely, and an orphan. I jumped up and grabbed my book bag. Dumping it out, I shoved folded clothes in it and some necessities I’d need to survive. I’m a procrastinator so it was amazing it had only taken me a week to jam all my stupid emotions in a glass bottle and do something with the rest of my life. I through the one-shouldered bag over my left shoulder and slid down the rickety apartment banister. I had packed food and clothes…And my phone. Leaving everything else, I took the rest of the family savings and headed out the front door. I had no idea where I was going, and it felt so awesome.

Okay. Let me tell you something factual. Sleeping under a playground during a thunderstorm in the middle of March is not my kind of awesome. Mother Nature obviously has some kind of twisted sense of humor. I sighed, darting out of the playground and into the closed in gazebo. At least there was some kind of shelter there. My stomach was churning just like the storm. Still, I was miserable.

No sleep. Check. Lost in a freaking playground. Check. Orphan. Check. Great life so far, huh?

Chapter 3

I hate my life. I hate my name. I hate my hair, my face. Wait! Don’t stop me—let me rant, I’m on a roll. I’m just not a very positive person. Oh well. I hate…The messed up world. Okay. I’m done now.
Let’s review the possible routes, shall we? New Jersey, Washington, Maine, the Virginias, what now? Man, I just don’t know where to go. Did you know that when you go a few miles into New Jersey a lot of it’s country. See? You can learn stuff from moi. Anyways, I guess I’ll just start going.

“Hey! Taxi!” Ugh. Don’t get me started on this ‘taxi’. I hate trying to get any kind of car. Why not walk? Because I’m lazy right now, that’s why. Yep, that’s me and my self debates.
I finally get a car: some random woman in a big ole pickup truck. “Thanks.” I climbed in and sat down I shotgun. “No problem, sweetie,” she grinned. Oh great. The lady had a hick accent. After fifteen miles on a bumpy, dirt road she turned onto another highway and glanced over at me, “What’s your name?”
“Jade.” Yeah, my name is Jaden. But Jaden? I dislike that name, so I drop the ‘n’ and I magically have a fake name. Not really, but you get my point.
“Nice to meat you Jade. I’m Tori. Where you headin’?”
I made a snap decision not to give anything away. “Dunno.” Apparently, only giving one word answers and statements ticks a person off.
“Okay then,” Tori frowned, badly hiding her anger, “Where ya want me to drop you off?” then she seem to realize something—maybe it clicked that I wasn’t going to talk to her.
“I’m going to Ohio, is that okay with you darling?"
“Fine,” I smothered my giggles. Boy was Tori getting irritated, fast.

I’m not going to go into detail with the road stops, country music, snacks she offered me. I refused everything except the snacks. And that burrito from Taco Bell. And that really good Monster energy drink. Tip: Red Bull is really funky, I recommend other energy supplement drinks. She also started singing ‘Ninety Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall’. I prefer the Coke version. But it kind of failed at 97 when I didn’t start singing along. Tori, I dislike you very much.

“Want anything, hun?” Tori put a hand on her hip and stepped out of her truck at the next Shell.
“No.” As soon as the freak left I groaned out loud. What was I going to do? Ditch. There goes my logical half, always pointing out the obvious. I hate it when people call me ‘hun’. Yuck. I snatched my bag and threw it over my shoulder and slipped out of the car. Taking another Monster didn’t hurt either. Tori wouldn’t even notice they were gone. Why don’t you leave her a tip? You may ask. Well, Tori wasn’t the brightest bulb in the 300 pack of eco-friendly lights. In fact, I think her little bulb had a short in it. Oh man, I crack myself up. The point being, she wouldn’t realize that she’d spent, like, twenty bucks on me. And besides, it was being friendly or something like that.

If I ever started a company Tori would be on my Black List.

So, remember: if you ever, ever, ever see a girl, probably an orphan, walking around with ratty clothes, black and brown hair, and a black bag with a big green ‘J’ on it. Pick ‘er up and maybe she’ll do something for ya.



Chapter 4

Police stations are incredibly lame in Ohio. I mean, their coffee pot was broken! You’d think that ‘donut and coffee’ stereotype applies to every police man. But Noo! Not in this part of Ohio. The guy-head chief person was allergic to caffeine. What the heck’s wrong with this place? Yeah, you tell me.

“Do you know that you have the community of New York City looking for you?” The officer in front of me had just started my ‘questioning’. I mean, I just finally figured out what that was. Call me stupid, but I been kicked out of almost every school I’ve been to. So I’m not very book-smart.
“The one that doesn’t care?” I asked, cocking my eyebrow,
“Or the Federal—the FBI?” What did ‘B’ stand for, anyways? The German Sheppard next to started barking. He was so cute! Just a puppy, though.
“What’s his name?” I smiled sweetly, ignoring Officer Fred’s intense glare.
“Ben. Now, back to the base. Why—,”
I interrupted him by stating, “Fred, Fred, Fred,” Fred went red—oh, my gosh I’m good—“ I’m not an idiot. NYC doesn’t care about me. You don’t care and the freaking FBI could care a lot less than they already do, if they even do. So,” I paused, stifling laughter at his face, “Let me out of this square room and we won’t have to get ugly with each other.” I tapped my long fingers against the metal table to keep from twitching. Oh yeah, I have ADD.

Fred talked quietly from the other side of the glass window. Not like I could hear him, I just assumed he was talking quietly. Fred was using his hands and stuff and kept glancing at me. I sighed and stood up. It wasn’t completely metal—the room was plastic designed to look like metal! I smirked; if I could break the glass with one punch and clean up my knuckles later. I prepared with my backpack and everything. Okay, by now you’re thinking ‘why do you keep mentioning your backpack?’ because it’s pretty dang important, that’s why.

I did it.


Chapter 5

“Well that went well.” A few days later, I stole someone’s bike, ooh it’s new, and started peddling as fast as I could on the side of the highway, about two feet from all those speeding cars. At least I was in shape enough to get a few miles before collapsing. Literally. I was so exhausted I fell off my bike and the bike, thanks, broke. In half. So much for that ‘nice’ brand. I won’t mention the brand.

“Ow,” I gingerly pulled my leg from under the bike and stood up. Kicking the bike down into a pond, I pulled out my hoodie as it started raining and cleaned the nasty gash on my leg. The rest of the day was pure torture. I started walking away from Ohio and found another state. My memory’s kind of hazy so I can’t remember which one it was. Figures.

I fell asleep at two bus stops, one 24/7 gas station and woke up at a local ‘National Park’. They called it a National Park; it was actually ten acres of land that had some bunnies and a few bears. Maybe some deer and gazelle or something. Anyways, I climbed out of the tree I was bunking in and slipped. “Why?” I asked loudly to no one in particular. No answer. Sighing, I picked myself off the ground and wove around the park and scaled the gate. Jumped over barb wire. Picked thorns out of my hands. Drank an orange soda and jogged away from the Park. In record time.

Chapter 6

I groaned; that barb wire had came back to haunt me the next morning. It was 5 o’clock, almost six and the sun was rising. I checked the date on my flip phone. Saturday, again, a week had passed since the accident. I pulled my jacket closer to me, trying to get out of the wind. Tip: walking along the side of the road with no money in your hand does not get you a ride. People usually just roll their eyes at you.

“Crap.” I sat down in the somewhat wet grass and flipped through a book I wasn’t reading. It got so boring after a while I closed it and started eating an apple. The apple tasted nasty. So, instead I went under the shelter of a tree and hugged my knees, and I started sobbing. That’s so not me, I don’t cry much; I’m used to disappointment, but the last few days the reality of no home or parents had really left my felling sucked of all my happiness, hollow. Like, Harry Potter, you know those Dementors that—I’m going to stop talking now.
My mouth was dry and so were my eyes: I had gone dry like a well that flooded. Eating something helped but I only ate a couple chips. They were stale, ha.
I drained a water bottle and snappily decided to keep walking east. Where ever east took me. Call me crazy, but I could tell where I was going at night, I had like night vision? Does that make since? I dunno, maybe it’s just me.
I stopped jogging after a bit and looked out at the cars, trying to coax one over with a ten dollar bill in my hand. A Mustang pulled to the side of the road and I felt . . . hopeful, I guess.
The window rolled down, “You need a ride?” A fifteen, sixteen-year-old sat in the driver’s seat. What a stupid question, “No, I’m giving away ten dollars for no reason,” I smirked. The guy snorted and popped the lock on the door. “Hop in.”


Chapter 7

I hate that expression. Am I a bunny? I think not, so I’m not hopping anywhere. I got in the car and suddenly realized how small it was. Good thing I’m not claustrophobic. I hope. I started twitching five minutes into the ride of boring silence, finally: “What’s your name, where are you from, and why were you out in the street holding ten dollars?” Well, you have to hand it to him for jumping to the point.
“Jade, New York, and I’m a New Yorker that’s what we do. Now, what about you?” I replied tersely. He grinned, "Othello."
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh at his name,
“Okay, Othello…Um, where,” I coughed, “exactly are we?”
“Let’s see,” he checked the road signs and speed up a bit, “Kentucky."
“Cool,” I said sarcastically.
I got out of the car and straightened my spine; it was cramped up after sitting in a car for two hours straight. Othello filled up the car and I used the dumpy gas station bathroom. Slipping back into the car, I plugged my phone into the phone jack and flipped through some unread messages. I deleted every contact and every message I had. It was time to start fresh.
When Othello got back in the car I got a good look at him; blond hair; gray eyes; taller than me. And he had a car. So, I was jealous. Of the car, of course. “Your turn,” I shifted in my seat, looking directly into his scary eyes. “Where are you from and why are you on the road, at six, on Saturday?”
Othello hesitated, “I’m from Maine. And…I ran away.”

I said ‘This is my life’ in Chapter 1, right? Forget that; this is my Soap Opera. I should be on Oprah, I really should.

Chapter 8

“Maine? Lots of lobster,” I snickered. He didn’t laugh. Clearing my throat I asked,
“Why did you run away?”
“I had a really bad life, not worth staying.” “I can relate. How bad?” I pressed my lips together and set down my green phone.
“Very.” Othello crossed his arms at the red light. Great. Just what I need. Someone as stubborn as me.
“Details?” I pressed. He didn’t say anything.
Othello sighed. “My mom was a drunk and I didn’t know my dad. We were being kicked out of the house and I couldn’t take it anymore. Is that enough of my bio for you?” My sharp intake of breath made him look up at me. “I’m sorry,” me being me I couldn’t offer and kind of reassuring statement besides that really lame one. Othello shrugged nonchalantly, I love that word, but that didn’t fool me.
“Look, I have a pretty bad life to—my parents were killed in that suicide bomber explosion last week,” I blinked the tears out of my eyes, “I’m that chick in the paper they’re looking for. I got taken by the police and then I was the teenager that busted out of the police station in Ohio and I’ve been on the run for a week. The FBI is looking for me. In another month I’ll be assumed dead.”
If Othello looked surprised he hid it really well. I felt my cheeks flush and I looked out the window, wishing I had shut up.Othello’s phone rang and I was saved from embarrassing silence.
“’Ello? Err…Who is this?” he blinked, alarmed. “No, sorry, I don’t know who that is. Ohio? Really? I went by there a fe-three days? Again, I wasn’t there. Sorry. Tracking…?”
Othello hung up and looked me in the eyes. “You’re one known fugitive.”

Chapter 9

“What?” Othello had just explained to me that they had been tracking my phone, the FBI. And they knew about Ohio and knew I was somewhere in Kentucky.
“Oh crap,” I picked up my phone and was about to throw it out the window but Othello grabbed my arm. “Hang on, we can fool them,” he pulled into a McDonalds parking lot, were a bus was pulling up. We stepped out of the car and run toward the bus. Othello took my phone and his and tapped them to the underside of the bus.
I grinned, “That’s cool.”
Othello nodded, “Tell me about it.”

The rest of the hours into Florida were very quiet. Neither of us had said anything since the bus. It’s weird, I thought, that only a week or so ago I was living a NYC with my parents. I shook my head and it clicked; the FBI thought I had been involved in the death of my parents. I had to stop thinking about these things.

When we finally crossed into Florida I checked the time it was 3 a.m. I hadn’t had slept in, like, two days. I put my bag on my lap and it was suddenly 8 pounds heavier. I mean, I only had a few things with me—some extra clothes and low supplies. Tensely, I opened it. Othello was glancing at me and he cocked an eyebrow. I shrugged as something in it moved. I jumped and moved a pair of jeans to the side. A tan and black head popped out. “Ben!”

Chapter 10

“What the heck is that dog doing you in your bag?” Othello has just paid-at-the-pump and forgot the ‘pay’ part of the deal. Yeah, forgot.
“I don’t know!” I snapped defensively. Othello rolled his eyes.
“That’s a German—,”
“I know what it is,” I interrupted.
"Have you ever had a dog before?”
“No freaking duh.”
“Whatever.”
I snorted. “That’s what I thought.”
I took some ham out of my bag pocket and made Benny sit for it.
“He’s already trained,” I smirked, patting his head and feeding him the rest. Ben licked my face and I drew back grossed out.
“Yuck, down boy.” He sat down and looked up at me with cute little brown eyes. Ben unsteadily walked from me to Othello and climbed into Othello’s lap, paws on the steering wheel.
“No,” he glared at the dog, “Get him off me."
Othello went to pick up Ben but the puppy growled softly. I laughed and snapped my fingers, “Here, boy.” Ben barked happily and jumped into my arms.
I stuck my tongue out at Othello.

Chapter 11

“He better not crap in my car.” Tsk, tsk tsk, paranoid Othello. I had to admit, Benny was a really good companion. He was trained, only growled at Othello, and never tried to run away from me. “Ben won’t,” I smiled, “As long as we get to the rest stop in time.”
Othello stepped on it and my bag flew to the back of the car, landed with a thud.

“I’m tired,” I complained. “Suck it up.” Othello slammed the hood of the car down. The oh so reliable Mustang had broke down in the middle of a nowhere. Oh crud. What would Fred think? Would he think I’d stolen is cute wittle puppy? Hm. Nothing I could do about it. I guess it was just too dang bad.
“Unless you can fix the motor, then you’re not allowed to complain.”

I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Well then let’s see if I can work my magic.”
I popped the trunk and pulled out a fairly heavy tool box. Setting it down on the ground, I opened the hood and checked it out. I had worked for a dump car fixer in the summers to earn some extra money. I could just, like, tell what was wrong and how to fix it. Weird, huh? Anyways, clearly, I was better with car junk than Othello; he sat in the car and watched me. I bit my lip and pulled a random cable out. I threw that over my shoulder and banged some stuff around with my wrench, screwed some stuff in place and ripped a part of the motor out.
“Try it now.” I wiped some gritty, oil stained hands on my jeans. Othello smirked when it didn’t even come on. I kicked the car with my foot and put the spare part I’d ripped out and placed it on an empty spot on the other side of the motor. I wrenched it in place and messed with the cables. I cleaned off my hands, put everything back in the tool box, closed the hood, and put the tool box back in the trunk.
Othello put the keys in and the car started. I raised my eyebrows with my ‘told you so’ face on.

“Well,” I put my feet on the dash, “You would’ve have been stranded here without me and would’ve paided a couple hundred bucks to get fixed and get it towed.”
“You have a very big ego, you know that?” Othello was waaay past the speed limit.
“I do now. And FYI you have a very annoying smirk.”
“And you don’t?"
“I don’t,” I nodded in agreement.
“That was a rhetorical question.” Othello smirked just to make me mad.
“Yeah, like I didn’t know that.”

Chapter 12

“Listen up, Princess,” Othello leaned against a tree. We were camping. ‘Cause I needed a break from the bumpy gravely road and Othello wanted food besides burgers and stolen Icees. Life was great. I looked up. Can you giggle while eating s’mores, smirking, feeding a dog hot dog and tying your shoes? I can.
I gagged on my s’more, “Princess?” Two teenagers with a thin puppy, old clothes and a broke-down car didn’t seem like royalty to me. Othello rolled his gray eyes, “I do know if I can lug you around anymore.” I stood up and brushed of my jeans, “’lug me around’? ‘Lug’?” I cocked my head in that stubborn way of mine, boy Othello just didn’t know what he was getting into. “I’ve fixed your car twice, navigated since you don’t have a map, and told you my name, and left my finger prints in your car. So you suck it up ‘cause you’re not getting rid of me that easily!” I turned around and walked away from him. To end my episode Benny gave a final, defiant bark a followed me at my heels.

Chapter 13

Othello left the next morning—without my knowledge. We had spent a week driving around three states and he ditches me? That jerk. “Come on Benny,” I loaded my bag with some leftover food and he jumped in it, his cute little head sticking out. I started walking in between the tire tracks he had left. Not only he a complete jerk, but he was also a complete idiot!

After a day or so on the side of the road I finally had a mental breakdown. I slipped backwards, and fell down into a creek, sharp rocks hitting my back. I cried for what seemed like the longest time and Benny left only to come back with a rabbit. I freaked and jumped back scaring Ben and landing on my butt painfully. Crying, breathing, and wallowing in self-pity was all I could handle right then.

Why was a crying to all you unobservant people? Because my life had been a freaking roller coaster. I got kicked out of three schools, moved five times; I had run away once before, and now, my parents were dead.

Finally, I fell asleep and found myself in the middle of freaking nowhere. “Ben?” I croaked. Then I drew back when my face was suddenly covered in licks. Standing up, walking, running, and thing with an ‘ing’ was painful.

I decided to spend the night in a hotel. Ain’t I smart?

Chapter 14

I sat up in the bed and rubbed my eyes. Ben looked up from the couch where he had been eating those little candies. You now the ones they give you on the bed? I made the mistake of setting them on the coffee table. I flipped on an old bunny ear T.V. “Crud,” I jumped out of bed my I saw my picture on the news. I was assumed dead, already. Guess they didn’t have high hopes for a fifteen-year-old to survive on her own. Packing up, I walked over to the window and open it. I locked the door of my room and, after taking the comb with me, jumped out the window.

Don’t try that at home or at a hotel. I forgot I was on the second story. Perfect. I landed hard on my right foot and fell forward, the ground accompanied by a loud pop. I cried out in pain and awkwardly grabbed my foot, which was already swelling.

I ended up crawling to the parking lot, dragging myself into a car. Looks like my hot wiring skills finally came in handy. How did you drive with a broken ankle? Well, for one, it’s not broken. Two, I’m not a complete idiot—not completely anyways—I used a stick to break, what else?

Accelerating with my left foot was weird and breaking with a stick was straight up bizarre. I reached a little town called: something with an ‘L’ . . . what was it? Lansing? I don’t know; something like that.
I pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road and leaned down to fix the hot wiring. It had been sounding strange on the exit so I had to make sure I either did or didn’t need to steal another car.

Chapter 15

Othello. Yeah. He was actually driving toward the little library/Circle K. I saw him and immediately all my anger camp rushing back giving me the strength to lean down, pick up a heavy rock, throw it at his back windshield. I have perfect aim. He swerved on the road and crashed into two other cars.
Oops. Time to get going. While Othello was shouting at some cop I darted off the dinky road and back to the highway.
“Well Othello will be fined alota moola. Life is sweet, huh Benny?” I ruffled my puppy’s light fur. He growled softly in agreement and curled up in the passenger’s seat on my hoodie.

“Jeez!” Three days later I honked my horn at a stupid person who was allowed to drive. Ben sniffed around the car looking for something to eat. He’d already thrown up the taco I feed him. Guess dogs can’t have hot sauce.

Chapter 16

I’m not a clingy person, but every since I chucked that rock at Othello’s car I had been following him. Stalker? No, I just need some answers. ‘Cause I don’t like not knowing stuff, you know?
His car stopped at a roadside park and I pulled on some white Hollywood sun glassed, my Converse and throw on my hoodie.
I stalked him around the trails, wanting to see where he was camping out. Luckily, I had dyed my hair more black, but kept some brown in it, and cut some of it off. Note to self: Never dye my own hair again: it looks like crap, literally. I didn’t look like Jaden anymore, I wasn’t her anymore. Lately, I’d gone by Jade and I starting acting . . . older, I guess.
Othello turned on me quick, like a viper. “Why are you stalking me?” He put as much venom is his voice as possibly. Venom, get it? Like, viper— nevermind.
“Stalking,” sounding so surprised, “why, Othello, who’s stalking you?” I smiled a super fake smile and shifted the bag so you couldn’t see the J.
He took a step back cautiously looked me over, oh so slightly confused.
“You idiot,” I ripped off the sunglasses, my unforgettable black-green eyes glimmering in the half-light. “Jade?”
Making a face I smirked, “No, the Wicked Witch of the West.”
Othello frowned, clearly thinking he had lost me at the little forest.
“You. Are. A. Complete. J-E-R-K,” letting that sink in for a bit before moving closer.
“How low can you get?” I finally realized why his face looked so familiar; he had gone to my old school. “Very low, want to see me in action, Jaden,” he glared at me “Didn’t you get kicked out in…Seventh?” “Ninth,” my voice was terse. Which was last year, he just said seventh to point out how stupid I was. And I wasn’t stupid. Nobody could chop down on a collar bone like I could. Not anyone I knew, anyways.
“I’m been stalking you for four days, way to let your guard down.”
He gaped then quickly hid it, but not quickly enough.
“Not possible I’ve been on the road for three days.”
“Excuses.”
My arms folded and Benny got set loose on him. The German mix jumped on Othello’s leg and started nipping him like a freaking piranha. I leaned against a tree, making Ben sit and gave way to giggles.
“Oh, you should’ve seen your face!” Othello glared at me. “You’re really ticking me off.”
“Then were on the same page,” my reply came steadily, laughter dying down.

Chapter 17

“Wake up,” kicking Othello in the shin I added, “Police are coming.”
Once we were up Othello carried Ben, against his will, and we climbed over a few gates to get back to the road. Othello got to the car and then noticed how bad I was limping.
“Is something wrong with your foot?”
Was I going to look incapable in front of him? No. “Just a dislocated ankle: I’m fine.” Othello shook his head and walked over to my side of the car.
Just then, randomly, I thought about how long we had known each other. I’d known him since seventh grade. Three years and two weeks. Again, just a thought.
“Seriously,” I drew back, “I’m fine.” Othello looked at my foot; I had neglected to put shoes on.
“No you’re not or you wouldn’t be limping that bad.” He took my ankle and twisted it some funny way until I heard a popping sound like the one before. I gasped and lost my balance, falling down on the grass. Othello took my hand, hauling me back upwards.
“I can’t walk,” I moaned.
Othello snorted, “Yes you can and you will.” Turns out, I could walk but I really didn’t want to. Othello directed me to the car with one hand on my arm and made me get in. What was that I saw in his eyes?
It’ll wear off by…Next week, I think.” He grinned evilly.

We had cops looking for us in Florida so we ended up in Louisiana.
“Can I drive?” Holding up a driver’s license in front of Othello’s face.
“Not with that ankle.” He smirked. Me pulling out a smallish pocket knife got his attention.
“Shotgun,” he decided quickly. I climbed into the front seat and revved the engine a couple times. “That’s bad for the car,” Othello pointed out. “I know,” and revved it again, just ‘cause.

Hold your applause! I only hit one car…And that ID? It’s fake.
Nah, it’s real— I just suck at driving.
“Get out of the car!” Othello snatched the keys away from him and I really wanted to smack him across the face. The only thing stopping me: he was my only ride. Some things just don’t work out.
“Nope,” my stubbornness really pays off sometimes.
“Out.” He pointed toward the open door.
“Like I said: no thanks.”
Instead of begging me to get out and offering me another ice cream, he simple undid the seat, yes folks, the seat, and pushed it out of the car and onto the highway.
“What the heck?” I brushed off my back and forced myself not to clobber—clobber? What a stupid word—Othello.
“Pigheadedness isn’t exactly a wonderful trait.”
I snorted—ha ha—, “Like you’re the one to talk.”

We drove all the way to Texas and stopped by the ocean. I was really eager, now. I had never seen the Southern coast just the dirty New York coast.
“You are radiating excitement,” Othello said in a ‘blah’ voice.
“Shut up.” I skipped down to the beach. There was a shady cover of palm trees we used to make a roof. If you call a roof one sheet tied around two palm trees. But hey, we made do.

Chapter 18

As sleepless and uncomfortable as our night on the sand was, Benny woke us up at dawn and we hit the road. “So,” beginning the day with a stupendous conversation, “Apparently you know everything there is to know about me but what about you?”
Othello looked at me, “You want some more of my bio?”
“Please,” I said flatly.
“Well, it’s checked out, sorry. You’ll have to wait until,” he thought for a moment, “never.”
I rolled my eyes and tapped my foot against the floor.
“That’s annoying.”
Ooh Othello finally talked again. “Huh. Really, how annoying?” I narrowed my eyes and stopped tapping. “Very.” Why was he being so short?
“Okay if you are not gonna talk to me, talk to Benny, he’s all ears.” Ben raised an ear and licked his chops, looking at Othello.
He sighed, “Why do you have to threaten me? First the dog then the knife, now the dog.”
“Indirectly!” I said pointedly.

Harassing him didn’t work either. Maybe asking nicely would work.
“Would you please tell me why I found you in Ohio and where were going?”
He merged into the left lane, “You found me there because I was there—I don’t know why: fate?” Othello shrugged, continuing, “We’re going to New Mexico.”

Chapter 19

“New Mexico?” I repeated for the third time.
“Yes!” he exclaimed, “You have a better plan?” I shook my head and took a swig of warm water.
“Okay, but why are we going to New Mexico?”
“I know a guy.” Ugh.
“What about Arizona? I’d prefer Arizonians over New Mexicans,” Is that what they call themselves? “Look, we’ll stop for a few days in New Mexico and then we can go to Arizona. Now. Why would you prefer Arizona?”
“A know a gal.”
“Like that clears things up.”
I smirked in reply.

Never drive across Texas: it is an incredibly loooong ride. And I’m glad it’s over. Nothing exciting happened except for the occasionally fight over which road to take. I was always right.

“New Mexico, yaay,” I said dryly. “That’s right.” Othello pulled into a hotel building. It was relatively decent. “Stay here,” he glanced from then to Ben. I didn’t listen. As soon as Othello turned is back and went into the lobby it was payback time. I got out and flipped up the hood. Pulling out a screw in the motor that would make it fall apart. I pocketed it and took my belongings. Ben and I hit the road, fast.


Chapter 20

We had to make it to Arizona before…The next five minutes? Tomorrow, more like it. I’d take the nearest plane. We took a bus to the airport and bought a 160$ ticket. Thankfully, I only had my one ‘carry-on bag’ so I was able to put Ben in it. Somehow he didn’t come up on the scanner thingy. Go figure.

I got on the plane, at the rear and pulled out a small handheld device. I had put a tracker on Othello’s jacket. Yes, I was devious and proud of it. Wondering if he had done the same, I looked at his location. It was going crazy which meant he was looking for me. I giggled; this would be a fun game of tag.

Ben perked his ear from where it was sticking up out of the bag and a ringing sound got my attention. I rifled through my bag and pulled out a cell phone. It was green..? I jumped and the phone flew out of my hand. It banged against the table and hit talk. “Hello?” putting it against my ear, I shoved Benny back in the bag. “Where the heck are you?” Oh crap. It was Othello. “Not there.” I hung up and tossed the pay-as-you-go phone in a glass of water.


Chapter 21

Othello hit the hood of the car; it wouldn’t start. He had tried everything possible and Jade was gone. Now how was he supposed to get around? Arizona. Othello nodded and decided Arizona: Jade would be there. On the road she had talked about this little town where she’d known some girl. That would be a good start.

Othello went over to some Mexican and they made a deal: the Mexican would get Othello to Arizona if he delivered a package to a 24/7 Gas Station in Cottonwood. It was perfect. His name was Pablo.
Turns out, the ride was forever away and in a minivan. “Uh..Pablo how far away are we from Cottonwood?” Pablo shrugged, “Listen man, I donno where it’s is.” Othello cringed at his grammar. They passed through Albuquerque and went straight through to Arizona.
Phoenix was a ways away but they made it and bam hit Cottonwood. Pablo gave Othello the package and dropped him off at the gas station. “Later man.” the Mexican drove away.

Chapter 22

“Heel. Let’s get something to eat.” Jade walked to a gas station after taking a taxi to Cottonwood. She hadn’t told Othello the name so she’d be free of him. For a while at least. Ben heeled and they walked in. A girl around my age was whipping off the counters. She had bright orange hair that was stuck up in a sloppy-spiky bun. The girl had knee shorts and a shirt that said ‘Cottonwood’s the place to be!’ with bleach stains on it. Her shoes were Converse, like mine, except they looked like they had been passed through a paper shredder than soaked in salt water and sowed back together again.
“Howdy!” She walked over and offered a tanned hand. Okay it looked tan but it was actually dirt. I took it and she said, “I’m Gwen—,”
I straightened and interrupted, “Gwen!”
She gave me a funny look, “Jaden? Is that you?” I nodded and pulled off my sunglasses.
“Oh, my God, Jaden,” she hugged my tightly. “I go by Jade now,” I told her lightly, breaking out of the hug before my ribs cracked.
“Jade,” Gwen nodded, “Now, what are you doing in Cottonwood? I thought you’d ever come back!”
“You know just, uh, hanging out…,” Looking at everything but her, I tried not to twitch.
Gwen heard something then looked up at the T.V a few moments past of her in shock. “You’re…?”
She looked so confused. The only good thing about the whole ‘missing/ assumed dead’ thing was: they didn’t have a picture of me.
And they didn’t know exactly what I looked like.
“Gwen,” I started, but she had a cell phone in her hand and wad dialing 911. “Stop!” I grabbed the phone from her and threw it against the wall, breathing hard. I turned around, ran through the back exit of the station.

Now I realized that I really, really needed to change my name. Slumping on the back of the tree, I slowly slid down to the ground and pulled in my knees. “What the heck am I going to do now?” I asked Ben. Great, I told myself, talk to the dog: that’ll help. Taking a deep breath, I said, “I need a new fake name. How about Julie?” I smirked. “Or Ophelia.” Ben shook his head a barked thirteen times. “The letter ‘n’?” I asked, confused. He nodded and I started listing some names. “Noel? Naomi?” The dog agreed to Naomi with two tail thuds against the tree. Weird. It was like he could understand me.

Chapter 23

Othello stood in the gas station listening to some girl’s nonstop chatter.
“Well, thanks for that package.” She said at last.
“Yeah, uh, have you seen a girl about 5”7, thin, black hair and a dog?”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed. In the midst of her chatter she had mentioned her name.
“No.”
“Great, thanks anyways.”

He walked around the back of the place and looked down at the ground. Sure enough, there were little paw prints in the mud. No footprints—maybe she could fly.

Chapter 24

I sat up in a tree my feet dangling. Ben whined, telling me how much he hated trees. Apparently they were only for cats. Ignoring him, I scanned the quaint little forest around me and—quaint? Ugh.
Anyways, I saw a tall shadow pop out of nowhere. Wonderful.
It was, you guessed it, Othello! Just what I needed.
Instead of being noticed, I leaned against the tree letting myself blend in with it. The only thing that popped was my maroon hoodie. Live and learn.
Then, Ben barked! I jumped, and fell out of the tree, landing hard on my back.

I looked up only to meet Othello’s gray gaze. It was intense, like a storm. I snapped back to reality when he blinked. Scrambling to my feet, I flushed, embarrassed that I had finally sunk to his level of low.
We didn’t say anything for a while, just kind of stood there.
“I didn’t know you could climb so well.” Othello smiled.
“I try,” I glanced at pretty much everything except him.
Ben whimpered up in the tree, urging me to say, “I’ve decided to go by a fake name..Naomi.”
“Smart thinking.” Really?
“Uh yeah..,” I trailed off.
He nodded. “Do you know anywhere here?”
“I know, uh, Gwen. I met her years ago.” Othello smirked at me in a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ way.
“I’m serious, were friends.” Looking down, “But then she tried to call the cops….”
“Yeah,” he looked like he wanted to say something else, but held back.

We walked around for a bit, made camp and Othello started a fire.
“Look, I’m sorry about ditching you in Florida.” He started out of the blue.
I nodded; refusing to admit me ditching him was wrong. I was too proud, but then, you probably already knew that. He picked up on this and just looked at me. “Where should we go next?”
Shifting on the ground, I spoke quietly. “I think I should go.”
Othello looked shocked though he quickly changed his expression blank.
“Why?” after a few moments.
My dark eyebrow rose, “’Cause staying with me is just putting you in risk. It’s not worth it.”
Please tell me I didn’t sound as pathetic as I think I did.
The light of the fire was dim and half his face was shaded—it was hard to see his eyes.
He took my hand and felt his slim fingers in mine, “It Is worth it,” he said softly.

You’re thinking: “Aw you guys are so cute together”. I’m thinking: “Oh, my God, give me my hand back”. See the difference? Yeah. Losing all feeling in your hand feels pretty weird. So, I carefully slipped it out and took my hand back. His reaction? Nothing, he said nothing at all. Whatever.
Really hoping that I didn’t looked as freaked out as I was, I stood up, needing to calm down and feel my left hand again.

When I came back Othello had banked the fire halfway and was eating banana chips. I was mad. I love those things. “Hey,” I whispered, seeing Ben snoring next to the fire.
When anything like this happens, I pretend like nothing happened and it was all a dream. Not really, but I wish sometimes. At least he acted like nothing had happened. But neither of us was that stupid. There was still some tension between us that had appeared an hour earlier.
I overreacted; I have to get that off my chest. Not like I wall telling him that. In case you guys missed the memo, I don’t like talking about anything personal with anyone.
Othello looked at me and I met his gaze evenly. “’Night.”
I went and climbed a tree.

Chapter 25

No, I did not fall out of the tree. When my dad and mom got in fights I would head down to Central Park and pick a tree. Sure it was illegal but hey, it’s not like the police ever caught me. Besides, you just have to get a wide branch, and keep your head near the trunk. Sometimes I let my feet dangle, but that’s pretty hard. For me, anyways. I had to scale down though. How did I do this? I took my belt and wrapped it around the tree, and, well, scaled down it. Ben informed me I looked like a freaking idiot by barking nonstop. I assumed it was laughter.

People really know how to get around. I mean, planes, cars, busses, you name it we Americans have it.
It seems like know one walks anymore. And if they do they’re orphans like me (see chapter one), runaways like Othello (see chapter seven), or homeless people. Or just plain idiots that forgot to invest in a car. And I was stuck walking….I would get another bike, but now I didn’t trust those things. And I felt guilty that I messed up Othello’s Mustang. Let me tell you, I never, ever felt guilty about anything. I always blame it on the other person. For instance, it was Othello’s fault.
Anyways. I walked back to ‘camp’ and folded my arms in the wind. Othello wasn’t here so I wondered if I should wait or go charging off. Hmm.

When he came back I bit my lip so hard it actually bled. I do that too often. I don’t apologize much about anything, so I didn’t mention last night.
Othello folded his arms and glanced at me. “Gwen wants to talk to you.” Oh. I thought he was going to talk to me. Shrugging I said, “So? I don’t want to see her.”
“Too bad,” he motioned with his head a few feet away and there’s Gwen. She had heard what I said but that obviously didn’t stop her from being the cheeriest person in the world.
“Oh, Jade I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” She sounded so sincere. Hm.
“It’s fine.” I did not allow myself to be hugged. Othello snickered and I shot him a look.
“I was wondering when you were going to be leaving and if you wanted any more company,” she looked down slowly. My mouth dropped open but then I shut it to keep from eating flies. Othello blinked and looked my way. He came very close and whispered,
“Should we be harsh?”
I glared at him. “I think we should let her tag along for a bit. What say you?”
“I say that’s stupid!”
“I disagree.” I turned away and started to walk to Gwen. But Othello grabbed my arm.
“Fine. But you can tell me how the heck we’re going to go around inconspicuously.”
Pure logic made me angry. Especially when it was coming from Othello’s mouth.
“Won’t three teenagers in bad clothes with a dog and bags look strange?” So the boy had a point.
“I don’t care,” I hissed.
He narrowed his eyes at me and released my arm. “Just give it some time.”

Chapter 26

We hadn’t decided whether or not to take her but she took Othello and I to her house. It was the most freaking tiny house I had ever seen. She let us take fabulous showers and clothes though. She had an older brother, to explain.

Two nights later I went out onto her tiny porch and sat down on a bench. The view of the sunset was the only thing that wasn’t tiny. I mean, even her coffee pot only made six cups, her closet was tiny, and her couch was tiny too. Gwen lived with her dad and her brother lived with their mom. Her parents were divorced. Little inside info for ya.
I was shortly joined by Othello. We sat there watching the boring view when he broke the silence.
His tone was careful. “I think Gwen should stay in Cottonwood.”
I put my head in my hands. “So do I, but what am I supposed to do?”
“Just tell her. What else can you do?”
“I’ll tell her tomorrow,” I said.
Othello nodded. And I slumped over in thought. Hmm. Would this work out? What would Gwen think? Would she take me for a complete, selfish jerk? Would she get mad? Dang this decision thing didn’t work very well for me. But then I thought about all the decisions I had made. And I realized what crappy decisions they were—that they all sucked.
“Oh, God, I’ve screwed up.” Then I noticed I had said that aloud in front of Othello. Oops.
I could feel his stare on me, but I didn’t look up. Rubbing my temples, I sighed.
Othello looked at me stiffly, “Are you okay?”
What a stupid question. “Fine,” I muttered, barely audible. I assumed he shrugged, wasn’t really paying attention, and went inside.

I fell asleep on the porch.

Chapter 27

“Jade.”
When I woke up Gwen had took me to the tiny kitchen to eat—you guessed it—a tiny breakfast.
That consisted of a protein bar and a glass of water. Mmm. After being on the run for a bit you really work up an appetite. So when Gwen went to work she gave us reign of the house. Snack time. OF course, snack didn’t even come close to the massive amount of food we ate just then. Well, she never told us we couldn’t eat everything in sight.
“What?” I shoved the half-empty bag of animal crackers in a cabinet, and sorta straightened up the kitchen for her.
“When are you going to tell Gwen?” Leave it to Othello to bug me about whatever’s on my mind.
“Maybe we should just go.” I didn’t think Gwen would hate me for it. Again: I think.
“I think that’s a wonderful plan,” he remarked sarcastically. Ah, sweet sarcasm.
“Shut up.” I smiled despite the fact that I wanted to smack ‘im.
Othello rolled his eyes and stared at the wall silently. Gwen didn’t even have a television! To think she was American. Okay, so I don’t even watch T.V but that’s not the point.

I scanned the room and blinked: it was similar to my old apartment where I had all those great times….
My eyes burned with the memory. No. I would not let myself cry.
I hated remembering, hated thinking about it. I started remembering all this obscure memories that made me want to curl up in a ball and cry. Even though that’s so not me.
One tear rolled down my cheek and I wiped it away before Othello could see. He did anyway.
Othello could totally know what I was thinking by reading my eye, my expression. Which bothered me. Maybe I should make my face more impassive and not say anything at all. That could work. Maybe.
He brushed some of my hair out of my eyes, “We left for good reasons.”
Thank you Confucius.
“Yeah because our lives were worth squat—if that’s a good reason,” my words were too caustic, and yet, I continued. “I don’t need your sympathy crap, or anyone else’s!”

Chapter 28

I have to tell you; sometimes, he just ticks me off. Off a cliff.
It was around noon-ish when I went back to the house. I had left Othello to think about not being all sappy with me. Or gentle, careful, reasonable, or logical, or anything else I couldn’t care less about.
“Jade, come on, why don’t you just talk to me?” Persistent Othello.
“It sounds like French people—I can hear them but I can’t understand what the heck they’re saying,” I said regretfully.
“Jade,” he pleaded, that is, if pleaded is the right word. I don’t know, my vocabulary isn’t all that great. Sighing wistfully, I started packing my bag. My regular one had been stolen so Gwen was letting me take one of her backpacks, it was gray.
I packed some food that wasn’t heavy and wouldn’t spoil and closed the bag. Ben’s head popped out of the top. It was so dang cute I laughed out loud.
Othello looked up from where he scowled in a chair and rolled his eyes.

I silently berated myself for not leaving sooner. We had to go at sunset, when Gwen started her evening shift. And it was almost sunset. Crossing my arms over my chest I stalked over to Othello who had stood up. “Where we going?” Proper Grammar is for people who care: I don’t. I should actually have an ‘are’ in there. See? Look it up for future reference.
“I thought you had it all figured out,” he smirked.
“I do!” I gritted my teeth.
“Oh.”
With narrowed my eyes and a somewhat heavy backpack I headed out the door, not waiting to see is he was behind me.

Othello got in a car at a car lot and check it out.
“I hate it,” I said, trying to sound bored. Anything he liked I hated. Call it difficult, but that’s who I am. Besides I’m the one who knows how to hotwire, remember?
“Of course you do,” Othello said irritably.
“But I like this one,” pointing to a red Mustang with white Shelby stripes. “She’s gorgeous.”
Othello nodded and got in. I got in the driver’s seat, for the record.

Chapter 29

Thirty minutes later I was driving casually down a highway, checking my rear view mirror. Nice.
I sighed contently and ran a red light. There was no one else on the road anyways.
“Where to?” Othello glanced at me, one of his light eyebrows rose.
“Uh, I was thinking California.” California? Sounds nice.
“Cali?” he echoed my thoughts, “Whatever, you’re driving.”
That’s right, I thought. But I couldn’t help wondering why Othello was acting so weird. I kept a blank expression on my face, one I had mastered from being in too many police stations. Keep quite is the best policy when you’re in a pickle. So I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t that hard.
“Is something up?” I finally asked, irritated. He blinked and handed me something. A plastic, black thing lay in my hand—a bug. “Whaaat?” I jumped to the conclusion.
Othello set his jaw. “Gwen was tracking us, keeping tabs most likely.”
No way. “That’s not likely,” I said firmly.
“This is a bug. It picks up all sound around it and in, some cases, is attached to a video camera,” his reply was just as firm.
That made my world go spinning upside down—like that song. My best friend was a spy? She was—
“What’s that?” Othello looked at a green blinking thing on Ben’s collar. Oh great.
An hour later we had finally picked all the bugs off us. I had something attached to my bag and my dog. Othello was bug free—that jerk.

At the next town I got out of the car a slammed the door. I leaned against the door thinking so hard it hurt my head. “I can’t go to California. Forget about it.”
Othello pressed his lips together. “Why not?”
Personal reasons, what else can I say? “I have some family there.” Family was quite an understatement. In fact, it was more like, cops who want to kill me.
More on that later.


_____________

More coming soon ^^

Chapters 30-38 On page 3