Chapter Five

The Center for Youth Support was seven miles from my house. Still fuming, I turned into a small park and sat down on a bench. Thoughts raced through my head, anger, fury. My stupid mother who can't talk to me so she sends me off to some shrink. My father, too busy to even acknowledge that I exist. There was nothing really wrong with Dr. Jones. I apologized to her in my head, angry at my parents, not at her. She'll call my parents, they'll find me, she'll finish her day, go home, hug her husband and make supper for her children.

I sighed and pulled myself up off the parkbench. My face lit up as I spyed a bookshop, a huge building resting in a strip mall. Darting across a busy street, I jogged across the parking lot, through the heavy doors, and into the shop. The clean smell of thousands of new books relaxed me. I'd stick around for awhile, catch a taxi home later.

"Miss, excuse me," I jumped, startled, and stared up at the policeman before me. I closed my book and scrambled up, my back stiff from sitting against the shelf. "Are you Alice Hayes?" He has a hard face, toughened, but soft hazel eyes. I could have lied, but I needed a ride home, and I wasn't sure if six dollars would do it. "Dr. Jones and your parents are in quite a fit looking for you."

"How long have I been?" I asked, groggy, still getting out of book world. He replied with two hours. I was stunned, two hours?

He beckoned to leave, I dropped my book and followed. The policecar is small stuffy. We didn't talk, but I couldn't help but wonder about the people who had also sat in this car handcuffed. It is a very short drive, and as I stepped out of the car, three faces greeted me. Dr. Jones, worried, and tearstreaked, my parents.