Free Notes to Self by Avery Sawyer Page A

disappear. “Fancy meeting you here.”
    “Hi.”
    “Don’t you want to know how I found you?” She was supremely pleased with herself. You’d think having your kid run away from home would make you stop and think for a minute or two, but apparently not.
    “Not really.” I crawled out from under the bed.
    “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway.”
    “Great.” I grabbed my backpack.
    “Your phone has a GPS thingie in it. God bless Big Brother.”
    “You’re tracking me?” I frowned. Stupid phone. I should have known she was up to something when she agreed so quickly to give me a new cell phone for Christmas.
    “Let’s go.” She picked up my bag. I wondered for how many years I’d be grounded for taking her credit card. Probably seven.
    I couldn’t decide whether or not to call out to Emily. On the one hand, she’d need a ride home. On the other, she might not have a tracker in her phone. She might enjoy a couple more days of sweet freedom.
    “You too, Emily.” My mom said, still as smug as all get out. So much for that.
    Emily scrambled out from under her hiding spot. She didn’t seem upset either. What was wrong with everyone? “Hey, Mrs. Saunders.”
    “Actually, it’s Miss Larson again. Signed the divorce papers this morning.”
    “Um…congratulations?” I could feel Emily looking at me, trying to gauge how I was feeling, but I refused to meet her eyes.
    “Thanks. Now, let’s get out of here before the store management finds out they had two unwanted overnight guests. I’d rather not buy all the pillows you two drooled on last night.” We headed for the door and Emily jabbed me. She crossed her eyes and put her palms up, like: What can you do? Moms, right?
    The ride home was bizarre. Before we dropped Emily off, they both acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Mom asked Em about school and she answered. When we pulled into the parking lot of her condo complex, Emily grabbed my hand before she jumped out of the back seat. I met my friend’s eyes, she gave a little wave, and it was over. Mostly, I felt embarrassed. I didn’t know my phone would give me away. I could have left it behind so easily. Instead, the whole thing was a joke now, the kind of thing my mom would tease me about until I was forty and she was senile. I wanted to make a statement, and instead I made an idiot of myself.
    We were both silent for a long time, and then I noticed Mom missed our usual turn. We probably needed gas or something. I was resigned to anything; I just wanted to fade into the car upholstery.
    When she finally stopped the car, we were just inside the Disney World gates. All the road signs were purple with white letters, and all the grass was a uniform length. Palm trees lined up between 3-D billboards advertising the latest rides. She parked our car in a huge lot by a white Cirque Du Soleil amphitheater. The lot was free; sometimes we came in here to get ice cream or see a movie. When she finally spoke, her voice was no longer smug or jokey.
    “I ran away from home, too,” she said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.
    I had to lean toward her to catch what she was saying. “You what?”
    “I ran away. And I didn’t go back. Well, not until you came along. And then only for a visit.” She took her hands off the wheel and played with her rings. She looked younger than thirty-five to me. She bit her lip and seemed almost teenager-y, if you took away the tired eyes.
    “How old were you when you ran away?” I pulled my feet up and sat cross-legged, right there in the passenger seat. This was getting interesting.
    “Sixteen.”
    “Wow.” I knew my mom was from Michigan, specifically the Upper Peninsula—the place on earth for which they invented the word “boondocks”—but I hadn’t realized she’d been that young when she came to Florida.
    “Yeah. I got on a bus and never looked back.”
    “Was it…were things…bad?” I felt ashamed. It wasn’t like anyone was