Free The Journey Back by Priscilla Cummings Page A

lash out or say something nasty, think of how your actions will affect that other person.” He never gave up on us. I had to admire Mr. R. for that. “TOP thinking,” he called it. “Think of the Other Person.”
    He would have been proud then, ’cause I was indeed thinking of the other person. I stared through the flames at my old friend J.T. As usual, his head was down, but when he glanced up I caught his eye. Was he coming with me or what?
    I couldn’t tell. So in the darkness, I rushed to get a place in line right behind him. “What’s your answer?” I asked softly, close to his ear.
    â€œStupid!” he hissed as we headed back to the dorm.
    I didn’t know if he meant that I was stupid, or the idea was stupid.
    He turned his head slightly. “Why do you have to go and run anyway?”
    â€œI told you why. I gotta protect my mom and the kids.”
    â€œHow are you going to do that? Your dad’s bigger than you are.”
    â€œNot by much. If I have to, I’ll use my baseball bat for protection.”
    â€œWhat?” J.T. turned all the way around and stopped the line. “That bat I gave you for your birthday?”
    â€œIf you were a real friend, you’d come with me,” I said quickly.
    â€œYeah?” he spat back. “If you were a real friend I wouldn’t be here in the first place!”
    Did he pull back his hand to hit me?
    â€œYo! What’s going on back there?” Mr. R. hollered.
    I threw up an arm to protect my face—a dog barked—I woke up!
    My eyes flew open. It was a dream. Only a dream. J.T. didn’t know I was going to run. And of course he wouldn’t have gone with me—I wouldn’t have asked! But his words echoed in my head:
If you were a real friend I wouldn’t be here in the first place!
    The dog barked again. I rolled over and followed his gaze. Some bikers were stopped on the towpath across the river. Had they seen us?
    â€œShhhhhh!” I scooped up the dog in my arms and held his muzzle shut. “You want to get me turned in?”
    I sat there in my underwear, holding the dog, and looked down at my clothes, still drying, on a rock close to the river. Boy, was that dumb, I thought.
    When the bikers left, I let go of the dog and scrambled down to get everything. The pants were still damp, but I put them back on anyway and, staying low, returned to the canoe to fetch the backpack. It was late afternoon by then and I was hungry again. I knew I should have rationed out the food but I didn’t have the willpower. I ate the second Clif bar, then drank the second bottle of water, figuring I could refill it with river water if I had to.
    At dusk, I pulled the canoe out from under the bushes and dragged it through a tangle of thickets and over rocks until I was past the dam. The water made a ton of noise pouring over that dam. It was only like a five-foot drop, but it would have swamped me for sure.
    I walked to the edge of the river and refilled the empty plastic bottle, hoping the water wasn’t full of pollution or tiny bugs or something. Then I closed my eyes and chugged the entire thing. It didn’t taste bad, so I refilled the bottle for later.
    Lucky for me, there was still some moonlight left. When it was time to go, I pulled the sweatshirt on, but kept the jacket tied around my waist. I stuffed my socks into my boots and tied them to the backpack. Then I rolled up my pants and waded into the river alongside the canoe.
    Behind me, the dog whined softly. I’d hoped to get away quick ’cause I felt bad about leaving him. But with all that whining, I gave in and went back to shore briefly to scratch his head. “Sorry, bud,” I told him. “I can’t take you. You gotta go survive on your own now, okay?”
    The dog held up his paw, like for me to shake it.
    â€œIt was good to know you, too, bud. You’ll be all right.”
    Then I turned, quickly