Three months earlier

"Ameris," The teacher scolded, "The seven continents?"

I looked up from my sketchbook and slid it back under my desk.

"Right," I stutter.

"North America, Europe, and..."

The teacher raises an eyebrow at me.

 "And?" he says edging me onward.

I rack my brain for anything to do with the continents, anything that might remind me of a name or a word.

"The land down under?" I say with a wince.

Snorts and laughter come from every corner of the room and the teacher claps his hands for their attention, I know I've made a mistake, again.

Mr. Sansberry points directly at me.

"After class," he states.

I nod, the way I do everyday, with a fake smile and a thoughtless thumbs up.

Everything the same, always routine, always torture.

The lesson goes on as usual, with Margaret Thurston rattling off factoid after factoid.

Factoids I know just as well as her.

Margarets head, ordained with brown curls and frizzy hair spray, is full of things she reads one time and remembers for life.

My head's full of things I read a hundred times and forget the moment i'm asked to speak of them. I internally beat myself, what kind of eleventh grader only remembers 2 of the continents?

"North America, South America, Europe, Asia, Antarctica, Australia, Africa," I whisper to myself with ease.

But it doesn't matter if I know it or not, I've disrupted another class, I've averted the high and mighty course of education again. I watch the clock as the minutes pass, only ten more minutes before another lecture on doing simple memorization thoroughly.

That was when the fire alarm went off.

That was the first time I met the music.

"Single file!"

"Ameris! Stay in line!"

But I didn't hear them, I was too busy looking at the ink-stained hands of the kid across the hall.

Our eyes met for just a second and I knew, I knew what he had done.

Why?

Sticking his hands in his hoodie he jogged over to me.

"You saw nothing," he said sternly. He looked me up and down and gave me a nod as if sizing me up to be a nobody. 

Maybe he determined I wasn't a threat to him, just some puny student who happened to see him passing by. That I hadn't seen. But I was sick of being ignored, of being taunted. I wanted to be in control for once. The sirens splitting my ears open, I mustered what small bit of dignified courage remained. 

"That won't come off you know!" I shouted after him.

I gulped as heads turned and stared in my direction.

The boy paused on his heels, then swiveled and looked at me. He was tall, and his eyes looked down at mine from such a height that I felt my throat go dry. He looked like the kinda kid who would punch a girl, the kinda kid who'd probably punch anyone if it was legal.

 "What won't come off?" he said plainly, his eyes warning me almost aglow with a quiet anger bubbling up from behind his skull.

I opened my mouth to speak my truth when a wave of confusion hit me hard. What had I been talking about?

I looked around at the people staring at me and the boy angrily looming over me. What had I said? What had I meant to say?

"Nothing," I said hoarsely, "Nothing I said matters, just forget it."

"Fine," he said sternly and grabbed my hand giving me a firm handshake.

The boy then backed away, but not before giving me a look that clearly showed he wouldn't be forgetting about it anytime soon. Kicking the locker in frustration, I followed the already long gone line of high schoolers out of the building.

"Tetris?" Mr. Sansberry called from his clipboard.

I sighed, nobody ever said my name exactly right. According to the school system, my name had always been Tetris, not Ameris. I had practically given up trying to correct them, but this day was going lousy anyway.

"It's Ameris," I said loudly, breaking the no talking rule.

Eyes shot in my direction and I froze stiff. 

"What?" Mr. Salisbury said looking up. "What did you say?"

I felt like throwing up, "I forgot Mr. Salsberry," I mumbled hoarsely.

I heard snickers from across the baseball field, maybe about last weeks Seinfeld special or maybe about me, sulking away like a coward again. 

"Daleun Lee," Another teacher called out. I didn't recognize the name, and apparently neither did the rest of the school because all the heads shifted from me to the boy in the hoodie.

"Not here," the boy said.

I internally groaned, that guy again, what a  jerk. By now he should have known that it just looks stupid when you say stuff like that.

But then I realized something, saying something stupid and right is sometimes better than forgetting and substituting something wrong.

"I can clearly see you, " The teacher remarked, annoyance clear in her voice. "Henceforth, you are present."

Usually, that would be the end of the conversation.

Usually, the kid would stop and live out the rest of high school in dad jokes and humiliation.

Usually, someone would take the correction and move on.

But this kid was different

"But if I'm not here in thought then I'm not here at all right?" The kid stated after a moment of silence.

The alarms in the school went silent.

"Pardon?" The teacher asked. Her face going red with anger.

"This is an institution devoted to the independent thinking, independent thought and gathering of knowledge am I right? So if I'm not here in thought, I'm not here at all."

I paused and thought about that.

I was never here either, I was always somewhere else.

Were any of us truly there?

"Mr. Lee, I would like to see you in detention after school, but for now, would you please remain silent." The teachers pinched nose turned upwards and her eyes narrowed through their spectacles.

The boy turned and looked at me.

Then he closed his eyes. If only for a millisecond.

He seemed to be listening for something, searching for something.

For a moment I thought I heard it too.

For a moment something in me screamed to run.

Just do it, Meris. Run.

Without any intention, without any previous thought, I gave a nod in his direction. For a moment he seemed surprised as if I had heard what he was thinking and agreed with it.

Without any intention, he gave a quick nod back.

Is it possible to know someone, for someone to be like us in soul and so different in actions? Is there a common thread sewn through all of us, a thread that makes us nod when gazes meet?I hadn't meant to tell him to do it. I hadn't known I was. but I stared, and he ran. The red hoodie went darting between row after row of kids, pushing all the sixth graders into the mud, and leaving the rest of his classmates staring at where he had once been.

I grinned to myself. Lunacy, pure lunacy.

 "The highway" I laughed, "The psychopath is gonna jump the highway."

About a half mile from the school lot runs the interstate. It's well hidden, behind a forest of trees, so kids don't get any ideas about hangout places underneath the overpass.

I used to draw pictures there, I thought I was the only one who knew it existed.

But as I watched the red hoodie run at unrelenting speed into the woods and in the direction of the hideaway I felt that he knew it too, that he knew exactly where he was going.

When my thoughts caught up with the seconds that had passed I heard the teacher's frantic voices calling after him, and shouting for someone to go after him.

I put two and two together and assumed that someone must have seen the ink on his hands.

That was when I heard Margaret say my name.

I looked around and saw all eyes fixed on me.

How many times today was I going to be publicly humiliated.

Then my thoughts came together and I realized it.

The red hooded boy had shaken my hand.

He had shaken it hard and well, and as I looked down, I saw the bright blue dye plastered all over my hands and jeans.

"Crap!" I whispered to myself.

A voice floated into my head, "One more referral and you're out of the foster care program you hear? One more detention-"

I looked at the trees behind me, and cold unfeeling faces in front of me. And within a split-second, I made a life-altering choice.

I listened to that nagging voice, that pulsating urge in the bottom of the souls of my converse. 

I ran.

I had never hated foster care. All the people were nice and kind and gave me what I wished when I wanted it. But I knew, with one flick of a pen I could be out of one home and put into the next one. One slip up, one more warning and I was out. I was sick of being moved, I was sick of being told.

So when the red hoodie went darting off into the world, fighting its own way, I knew I had to follow it.

Anyone that crazy had to be worth following.

By the first mile, I was already out of breath and feeling my knees buckle.

But as soon as I saw the highway I knew that I was no Annie, no orphan who knew tomorrow would be better.

Tomorrow was a risk, how would I eat, where would I go?

"Go back home," a voice said from underneath the overpass.

I turned and found the boy counting cash, a Twizzler dangling out of his mouth like a cigar.

I couldn't help but laugh, this tall rough rebel without a cause, sitting criss-cross applesauce in the dirt of a highway, contemplating expenses like a stockbroker.

"There's nothing left for me back there," I stated firmly. I waved my hand, "Besides, you dragged me into this."

The boy shrugged.

 "You got a name?" 

"Ameris," I spluttered.

"Daleun." He muttered, stuffing wads of cash into his pocket. "Get lost."

"Listen, if I go back all that's waiting for me is a talking to and a phone call home. Is it really going to ruin your day if I stay a few hours?" 

Daleuns eyes narrowed and his lip snarled, not that I liked this any more than he did.

"I'm in charge," He asserted, swing the backpack over his shoulder. He pointed to my bag. "Lose the phone."

I took the phone out of my back pocket and clenched it tightly. "No," I stated firmly.

He turned and met dead straight in the eyes. "No?" 

"No," I said with a bit less conviction. 

"Why not?" Daleun sneered.

I looked aside and my face went beet red. It was such a stupid reason.

"All my music on here," I explained, "I've had this thing forever." 

Daleun took a step back and thought that over.

"Give," he said pointing to the phone.

I grimaced as I handed over the phone. I needed this kid to trust me, he clearly knew more about life under highway overpasses than I did or ever could. 

I watched in horror as he opened the back of my iPhone and tore out a couple of those small data clip thingys.

"What are you doing!" I yelled and tried to rush him.

A swift hand pushed me away and fell to my knees in the dirt.

Brushing the grass stains off my jeans I huffed my way back to my feet.

By the time I had regained my breath and was preparing to rush him again he tossed me the phone back and gave a nod.

"What did you do to it?" I fumed as I looked it over.

Daleun shrugged, "Rewired it."

"Rewired it to do what!" I shouted. "What did you do? Do you know how long it took me to buy those songs? To write them?"

"Relax!"

"I am relaxed" I snapped, turning the phone on and inspecting it carefully.

All the apps were gone except for Garageband and Itunes.

"Satisfied?" he retorted throwing his hands up in the air.

"Fine."

"Come on," he sighed and started jogging towards the highway. 

Covered in mud, disheveled and jeans torn to pieces.

He looked like a professional hitchhiker with his hair like that.

For a moment I thought about throwing my backpack at him and knocking him out. Then I'd take him back to the police and everything would sort itself out.

Daleun stopped and looked back at me, "Coming?" 

"You've put enough trouble on me already, get lost or keep being a burden." His eyes seemed to say.

With a groan I jogged after him, knowing I would regret this for the rest of my life.

Or, looking back maybe just fearing I wouldn't regret it at all.