His bedroom is mostly like the other rooms in the house, filled with creaky old furniture and dusty trinkets. There’s a bed in the corner, a long dresser cross the wall, and a rocking chair by the only window. The top of the dresser is completely clear, cept for one framed picture sittin’ right in the middle. I recognize the woman right away—not just cause I seen pictures of her before in that photo album, but cause she looks just like Momma. It’s the granny I never knew bout, wearing a long dress to her ankles and fancy jewelry that sparkles. But don’t nothin’ shine as bright as the smile on her face, looks just like Momma’s best smile.
I hear a noise outside the bedroom and jump, almost dropping the picture. Then I realize it’s only the sound the toilet makes when it refills with water. I set the picture back on the dresser and get back to looking for money.
Finally, I find some, in a shoebox on the top shelf of Granddaddy’s closet. I count two twenties, one ten, one five, and seven ones. Sixty-two dollars. I stuff it all in the pocket of my shorts and whisper a promise into the air to pay Granddaddy back, one day. I return the shoebox to the closet, then close the door to his room again, so it looks like I was never there.
In the living room, I sit on the couch with my clothing-stuffed backpack and my money-stuffed pocket. As I sit there, thinking, a funny memory crosses my mind. It was back in Detroit, when me and Nia was watching some movie where this kid decided to run away from home. Nia was all into it, but I kept complaining bout why the kid would be so stupid, to run away with nowhere to go, and nobody to keep them safe. But now, sittin’ here alone with all my little bit of stuff, it just feels like it’s what I gotta do. I wish I was in Detroit, though, where I would know where to run. I ain’t been many places in Lansing, besides the pool, the church, and the mall. I’ve rode the bus in Detroit all by myself before, to get to school, but I can’t remember even seeing no bus around here. I wish I had a bike, at least. Which makes me think bout Bobby’s and Charlotte’s bikes. I look back to be sure I ain’t leave no mess around Granddaddy’s house, straighten out his rug and wipe dust from his coffee table. Then I leave.
Bobby’s bike is laying on the ground where he left it, but I can tell right away that it’s too big for me to ride. It even has those gears up top like Nia’s old bike. That only leaves Charlotte’s bike, which ain’t over there no more. I look down the street one way, then the other. No sign of her or her bike, so I guess I gotta walk. I put my arms through the straps of my backpack til its weight falls square on my shoulders.
I look both ways to make sure ain’t no cars coming, even though there ain’t ever really no cars on this street. As I step onto the sidewalk in front of Granddaddy’s house, I have to fight the urge to turn back. Not cause I wanna stay, but cause I got stuff here I care bout. Like my caterpillars and the rest of my rocks. I figure I can get ’em when I come back, but that’s the thing bout running away—you don’t know if you gon’ come back.
“KB!” The shrill whisper comes from behind me. I turn and barely miss gettin’ hit by Charlotte on her bike.
“Charlotte! Where’d you go?” I ask loudly, making her shove her finger up to her pressed lips.
“Shh!” Charlotte shrieks. “Or she’ll hear you!”
“Who, your momma?” I try to whisper, still a bit too loud. I look around nervous, like she gon’ be watching me from the window. But the house is quiet, with no mommas in no windows.
“Yeah, we were in trouble,” Charlotte says, lowering her head.
“For playing outside?”
“No, for playing over there with—” Charlotte stops, quick, then says, “For going across the street without permission.”
“Oh,” I respond. Charlotte keeps looking at the ground instead of at my eyes, and I start to wonder if maybe Granddaddy was right bout these kids, and bout they momma. But I ain’t got time to figure it out right now, cause I’m busy looking at her bike.
“Hey, can I ride your bike?” I figure she’s gon’ say no, but I ask anyway cause I need it.
To my surprise, Charlotte says, “Sure, long as you’re careful.” I start smiling real big and nodding too fast. “I have to go inside now, so just make sure you bring it back by the morning.”
I don’t know what made Charlotte decide to say yes, but I grab the handlebars and start pulling the bike closer before she can change her mind. “I will, I promise!”
Charlotte waves at me as she runs cross the street. I wave back, then climb up onto the seat—too short, so I gotta half stand—and start to pedal.
Now I know I gotta come back, at least to bring Charlotte her bike. No matter what other people do to me, I ain’t gon’ break a promise to my friend.
* * *
Running away is harder than I thought it was gon’ be. I realize now why Momma always be gettin’ lost when we drive places. All the streets look the same, so I feel like I’m riding around in circles. I was gon’ stop to try to find a map, but I don’t even know how to read one. So, I just keep riding, hoping something gon’ look familiar if I go long enough.
I think as I pedal of places I could go. Maybe a park, if I can find one, where I could eat at the picnic tables and sleep on the slide. But if it starts raining, I’m gon’ get all wet. I stop at an orange flashing do not walk sign. Nothin’ looks familiar, which ain’t a surprise since nothin’ here is familiar. I remember my plan at the beginning of the summer, to collect enough bottles and cans to get myself back home. I could maybe try to find my way to Detroit now, but I don’t even wanna be there anymore. Not now, like this. Besides corner stores with people who know me by name and lottery pick, and a couple friends who started whispering bout me after my daddy died, I don’t have a home in Detroit no more.
The walk signal flashes on, with the little white light man telling me it’s safe to go. I hop off Charlotte’s bike and walk it cross the intersection, just like Momma taught me. I’m bout to climb back on when I see a big brick sign for a library. It’s still early but looks like it’s open cause a bunch of cars are parked out front. There’s a bike rack near the door and I leave Charlotte’s bike there, where it will be safe. Then I push through the double doors to a rush of chilly, air-conditioned air and the smell of fresh-turned pages. Finally, something familiar.
When we lost our house after Daddy died, there were days when we would sleep in the car, and we went to the library a bunch to use the bathroom and keep warm. I still don’t know everything bout why we lost the house, but I think it had something to do with Daddy owing lots of people money, cause after he died, the phone kept ringing and the bills kept stacking up on the table til, eventually, we left our house for good. Sometimes we’d stay at the library all day, til one day when somebody asked Momma if we needed the phone number for a shelter. After that, we never went back again. I guess she ain’t want them to know that some days the library was the only place we had to go. Eventually, we found the motel, but I liked the library much better. Funny that I’m here now, with nowhere else to go. But this is different, cause before stuff was always just happening to us, and now I’m making something happen.