The car running, I gripped the steering wheel hard with my elbows locked, just begging the stars to let him walk by. That's when I spotted him sitting alone under a maple tree, leaning against the wide trunk. And, as if the stars had decided to answer, he leapt up and came toward me. I got out of the car. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I came to say." I said, but I couldn't get the words out. He looked in the back seat and saw my duffle.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Away," I said. Our eyes burned into each other. I felt heat in my chest, knowing that this really was the last time. I wanted to reach over, touch his hand. I hoped he could read my mind and somehow know he was the only person I'd miss, that I'd come here today because he was, ineffably, mine. "Away where?" he asked. "To see my mother," I said.

"Can I go with you?" he asked. I stared at him. Had I heard right? No, I had to be dreaming. "Will you take me?" he asked. It was real. This was happening. His eyes were begging me. "But people will miss you.

They'll wonder where you are," I said. "I live in a group home," he said, gesturing at the building. "They won't wonder for long." And then he touched me -- just one finger on my wrist bone -- so quickly I would have thought I'd imagined it if it didn't tingle all through my body. "I can help you," he said. "Help me?" "Yeah, you're running away, right? I know how to do that. No one will catch us," he said. He was already hurrying around the car.

I didn't think after that. I climbed into the driver's seat, he got in beside me, and we sped off.