Chapter Six

Dr. Jones excused herself as the policeman left. Me, my parents, and a sidewalk. I watched my mother hold back her emotions. I could see her physically itching to rush forward and give me a mother-daughter hug, soppy, sweet, full of emotion. Keep itching, I thought bitterly, for if she chose to run forward and embrace me I would scream and bring the policeofficer back.

My father had creases of worry etched across his forehead. He must have come all the way from work when he heard that I had gone for walkies. His jet black hair resembled mine, but his is short, ordered, controlled. I stopped examining his hair and questioned, "Um, where's the car?"

The car was silent, dead silent. I felt it pressing in on me, pushing my skull back and forth. No longer able to bear the force of the silence, I sing, "Awkward silence!" and clap my hands to my knees. This promts my mother into action.

"Sweetie, you've got to stop doing this."

"What?"

"Running away."

"I walked Mum. Walked."

"Sorry, you must stop walking away," her voice was sweet, with a kind note in it, gentle. I couldn't stand it.

"Next year I'll be able to drive away. Oh, buy me a horse, then I can ride away."

"Alice." That was my dad, irritated.

"Mm?" I was enjoying this.

"After what happened to..." My mother began again, but I unbuckled my seat belt as she pulled up to the house.

"Later Mum, thanks for the ride," I yelled as I jogged off down the street, "I'll be back by three!" I had no desire to hear what my parents thought about the matter. As I turned the corner, I shut my eyes, my legs pumped hard across the sidewalk. I opened them, not even realizing where my legs had taken me.

I undid the latch and let myself into the pond area. It was alive with quiet murmurings, frogs croaked, birds chirped, a dragonfly buzzed from spot to spot. I tried not to think, tried to ignore the heavy weight on my chest, pushing, eating. I wandered over towards a petite tree, a new spruce. I fingered a branch, a twig really. It was only a few up from the ground. I ran a nail along each tiny knot, each little bump. I shut my eyes, but when I open them, there still isn't anything there. I don't find another piece of fabric, bright red. I don't see a peice of Jimmy's backpack. One little strip, removed, and now this little tree looks like any other one.