I ended up staying at Peter's for almost four hours.  We had been working on square roots and exponents and fractions.  My brain felt like it was going to burst.  

Peter set down his pen.  "Ok, I think we can call it a day."  

I pretended to be relieved.  "Finally!" 

"Oh, come on, I'm a good teacher!"  he argued back, a grin on his face.

"Uh-huh," I said sarcastically.

He closed the books and handed it to me.  "Here, you can keep these."

"You already said that, do you need me to worship you with thanks or something?"  I joked.

"That'd be pretty awesome," Peter replied.

I rolled my eyes, and stuffed the books in my overflowing backpack.

"Is that clothes in there?" Peter asked, his eyes darting to my bag.

I snatched the bag out of his line of sight, ignoring his question.

"Bye, I'll see you tomorrow," Peter said, getting my hint.  "Do you want a ride?"

"I'm good," I said, stepping out the front door, into the frigid air.  

He opened his mouth to protest, but I slammed the door, pulling my sweater around my body.

I began my walk to the streets.

The walk home felt stranger than usual.  My backpack, weighed down with clothes and books, (and 2000 dollars,) felt like an elephant wanting a piggy-back.  

I wanted to save my money.  Too much times, I had used my money on taxi fares and food. 

Food was cared for by school lunches, and I could walk.  Why else would I have legs?

I finally arrived at a decent looking alley.  I needed to be close to school, so I wouldn't have to walk a long way, but I also didn't want anyone from school to see me.   The alley was pretty clean, except for a few damp spots on the sidewalk, preferably from the light sprinkles this afternoon.

I set my bag down as a makeshift pillow, and stared at the trashbag abandoned in the corner.  

It started to move.

I scrambled back, about to run, when a furry face emerged.

The puppy was a very small, and it looked frightened.  It was dirty and thin, it's long tan fur tousled.  It had floppy ears and big dark eyes.  It stared at me queerly.  

I wanted to keep it, but I couldn't.

I didn't have the food, or the supplies.  

The dog came over to me, sniffing my bag.

"Shoo," I said, softly, "Go find someone else."

I could barely take care of myself, no matter how much I would like a small dog to keep me company.

It trotted away, disappearing behind a corner.

I lay back down again, calming my heart from what I thought was an attack.

It was really cold out, and I felt my lips turn blue.  I thought of going over to Julie's, but I knew that I'd only be a burden to them.

So I ignored the cold and thought of the warm house I had just been in.

Sleep didn't come right away.

My thoughts were filled with math, calculus, teachers, Julie, Peter, and dogs.

My life had been a big jumble, all my days repeating over and over and over.  

And now?

It's more like I have something to look forward too.

And hopefully, it won't distract me.  I have to keep my guard up, if I want to stay alive.

These thoughts ran over and over through my head, before finally, I fell asleep.

I had learned to wake up at the same times, which proved useful now.  I was up, changed my shirt, and headed out to walk to school.

But I forgot something that day, I forgot something I would regret.

Calculus, did NOT fly by.  It dragged on and on and on.  

When the teacher asked me a question, I shrinked in my seat, knowing I would get it wrong.

Language Arts and Literature was easy for me to survive though.  All it was was reading a novel or a text book and answering questions.

When I had been picking my classes, I had just picked them randomly.  

I had chosen chemistry.  It was one of the biggest mistakes I had made, beside Calculus.

Who knew chemistry required memorization?

I wished that high-school was like fifth grade.  Where as science is just one big subject.  Not clumped up in a bunch of other types.

At lunch, I decided to buy Julie an ice-cream cone, a token of my thanks for being able to sleep over.

It looked mouth-watering.

I decided I deserved one too, but I went against it. I needed the money. Plus, ice-cream was 2 bucks.

I reached into my stuffed bag, rummaging for the money.

It wasn't there. 

I rushed to the girl's bathroom, dumping my items onto the toilet seat, carefully picking through the articles.

It still wasn't there.

My heart hammered, my eyes widening.

It must have fell out when I was changing.

No, no, no, I needed that money. 

That money was from Sam and I needed it to live.

I stuffed everything back into my bag, my heart thumping out of my chest.

Discreetly, I left the school, catching a few looks from students.  I rushed out before anyone could tell me to stop.

I ran, forgetting that I had to breathe, until I reached where I had slept last.

But on my way there, I felt loud footsteps approach behind me.

Directly behind me.

But when I turned around, I felt cloth being thrown on top of my head, blinding me.

I instantly panicked, kicking my arms and legs, yelling.

But I felt a sharp prick and then I felt darkness.

--

I rushed to the boy's bathroom, after my science class.

Ms. Hond was brutal about bathroom rules.  

I saw Charlotte frantically run to the bathroom, which made me nod in sympathy.

She must have had a teacher like Ms. Hond too.

I did my business, remembering that I had to cancel today's tutor session because of my sister's violin concert.

I patiently waited outside the bathrooms, (is that weird or something?)

I saw Charlotte dart out, without hesitation.

Her usually stuffed backpack was bulky, and looked very heavy.  Her long tangled brown hair was flying after her , her blue eyes sheered in terror.

I followed her, trying to get her to stop.

The line was crossed when Charlotte ran out the school doors.

I had to make a split second decision there.

Long story short?  I followed her.

I don't know why, I guess I'm just really bad at making good decisions.

There was something about Charlotte.  She never let me drive her home, she practically didn't know anything, her clothes were always rumpled, and her backpack stayed with her 24/7.

Charlotte was running, fast, twisting and turning.

I tried to keep up with her, but I guess quitting football made me quite the couch potato.

But I stopped in my tracks when I saw Charlotte being pulled over, her head snapping back and being covered with a hood, and an injection stuck in her neck.

I processed everything that had happened.

And I ran.