Mom brings me oatmeal and toast on a tray and leaves me a sandwich and an apple for lunch, plus a pitcher of water. She’s really nice when I’m sick. “Call me if there’s a problem. I’ll be back no later than five,” she says. Being sick is boring. I always think I’ll have fun watching TV and playing video games, but after a couple of hours I want to be doing stuff. Sometimes I sneak out, but not today. I don’t feel like throwing up or anything, but every time I move, I get chills. After breakfast I pick up my tablet and check out old friends on Facebook. I’m super careful. Mom told me about privacy settings when we first ran away. She said she didn’t want me to have an FB account, but sooner or later she knew I’d get one anyway. Telling me now was like Grandma and Grandpa telling her about birth control: “You need to know how to protect yourself so you’ll be ready when the time comes.” I guess I wasn’t paying attention because she grabbed me by the shoulders.
