You Can Run Read Free

“It’s not important.” He pulled me close to him. “Three more weeks,” he said. He didn’t have to explain what he meant. I had been marking days off my calendar too. In three more weeks, Nick’s time at Somerset would be up and he could go to live with his aunt.
    â€œActually,” I said, “it’s two weeks and six days. But who’s counting, right?”
    â€œI am,” Nick said. “It’s two weeks and six days until I get out of Somerset. But it’s exactly three weeks until your birthday.”
    I stared at him. “How did you. . . .?”
    He grinned. “You’d be surprised what you can find out if you know who to ask,” he said. “You know what I’m going to do on your birthday?” His eyes sparkled. “I’m going to take you out. First we’re going to have dinner together somewhere nice. Then we’re going to go to a movie. Unless you want to do something else— maybe go to a concert, if anyone good’s in town.”
    â€œA movie would be fine,” I said.
    â€œThen,” Nick said, “I’m going to make sure you get home safely instead of having to leave you at a bus stop somewhere.” Nick was allowed out of Somerset only with permission, never at night, and always with a strict curfew and restrictions on where he could go. A worried look flashed across his face. “Any chance you’re going to be staying with your dad on your birthday?” Nick got along okay with my father. My mother, who is divorced from my father and with whom I live most of the time, made him nervous.
    â€œNick,” Mr. Jarvis said, pointing at his watch. “Tick-tock.”
    He bent down a little and kissed me on the cheek. “Three weeks,” he said. “It’s gonna be great.”
    I watched him walk away with Mr. Jarvis, and I wondered again about his appointment. Still, if he was going to be leaving Somerset on schedule, everything was probably okay.
    Â 
    . . .
    I don’t remember walking from where Nick had left me to the Buddha. I was still thinking about him, still feeling his lips on my cheek. I spotted Billy first. He was sitting opposite Morgan, with a puppyish look on his face. I was beginning to think that he had developed more than friendly feelings for Morgan over the summer. She had been away at her family’s cabin while he had been working in the city at a camp for young activists. Had her absence made his heart grow fonder? But as soon as I got inside, I knew I was wrong. They were arguing— well, actually, Morgan was giving Billy a hard time. Billy was his usual calm self.
    As Morgan squished over to make room for me, she said, “I’m glad you’re here. Now we can talk about something that someone actually cares about.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?” I said.
    â€œI was just wondering. . . .” Billy began.
    â€œNo way,” Morgan said. “I don’t even want to hear her name. I told you yesterday that I didn’t care. You’ve managed to make it through today without mentioning her. Let’s keep it that way, okay Billy? Besides, Robyn isn’t interested in her either.”
    â€œInterested in who?” I said.
    â€œTrisha Carnegie,” Billy said.
    Morgan scowled. “Didn’t I just say that I didn’t want to hear her name? Didn’t I tell you that she was the last person we want to talk about, or even think about?”
    â€œMaybe she’s the last thing you want to think about,” Billy said. “But Robyn’s interested, aren’t you, Robyn?”
    â€œI guess,” I said. Actually, I wasn’t interested in Trisha. But I didn’t want to hurt Billy’s feelings. Morgan, however, took a typical Morgan approach. She jabbed me in the ribs.
    â€œTell him,” she said.
    â€œTell him what?”
    â€œTell him that you don’t care about Trisha