Seventeen – Calvin

I'm running away. Sitting around my house sulking won't bring Oliver back. It's done nothing but get more things taken away from me. But before I run off into the unknown, I need to plan. Too many on the spot decisions have fucked me over. Too many people tell me I think too emotionally, so I'll force myself to plan for as long as I can. I need to know what to pack, where to go, what to look for, what to do and what not to do. It hurts my head having to consider so much and pushes my stability to the edge, but the more and more I start moving, the more adrenaline I feel pushing me along.

First, I'm going to have to pack enough to keep me presentable, but not too much. I pace back and forth, trying to think of a plan. I don't have any leads as to where Oliver is. There isn't much that I know about his life in Lower-class. I don't even know anyone else who knows him. So what can I do? If I go out to look for him, there isn't a good chance I'll find him, but at least it will feel like I tried. I'll go out and spend a few days in the Middle. I'll find a place to sleep for one night and nap in the library if I get too tired. I can go to the places that we went, talk to the people we know, wait at the station I always dropped him off at. And if I can't find him, maybe I'll play my cards a little riskier.

After drafting out a plan, I focus on what I'll need to take with me. I don't need much, just the necessities. I grab a few days' worth of comfy, not so Upper-class looking clothes and dump them in a pile on my floor. I'll need toiletries too. Just because I'm running away doesn't mean I'm going to act like personal hygiene doesn't exist. I take deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste, body soap and shampoo, put them in a toiletry bag and dump it in the pile along with a towel.

Quietly, I rummage around my room trying to imagine what I would need. Cash will be important. As much as I want to, I can't take my debit card in case my parents track my spending, leaving a direct path to wherever I am. It took some searching, but I managed to stack up just over $200 and slipped it into my wallet. I'll also need something warm just in case I get stuck outside for a night, so I grab a jumper and a small blanket and a torch, then add them to the pile.

I go to find a charger for my phone but hesitate as I open the drawer. Maybe I won't need my phone, it will probably be easier if I don't take it. I mean, I should in case there's an emergency. But I don't need to be tracked, or called constantly, and I'm willing to leave it behind even if it means I'm putting myself at risk. All I care about is finding Oliver, and if that means leaving my phone, then there's no harm done.

I inspect the size of the pile and grab a bag to suit. It's a small sports bag, nothing too big, mainly because that would be annoying to carry everywhere. Then I packed the pile away into the bag and heaved the strap over my shoulder. I take my time to sneak around the house, hoping I haven't forgotten anything important. The good thing about my house is it's tiled so it's easy to sneak around on compared to creaky wooden floorboards, but in the dead silence of the night, even the smallest sound can echo all throughout the house. With the threat of noise, the possibility of me successfully grabbing a packet of chips and stuffing it into my bag without making enough noise to wake the house up is looking pretty unlikely. So, I decide on some snacks that have a smaller chance of plan-threatening noise and add them as well as a large drink bottle to the bag.

Now, I have to get out. I can't take my Mercedes because I have no clue where the keys are, and I don't want to waste my money on keeping the tank full. My fancy car and unique number plate will also be a dead giveaway as to where I am if my parents, or anyone, goes looking. So, I'll walk instead.

I weigh up my options and decide to leave through the small side door near the garage. It's the only door, or window, without a security camera on it and the easiest to get out of. If I was caught leaving on camera, my parents would immediately go to the police, have them issue a missing persons file on me and use anything they can find to help the search, so it will help a lot if I can leave as little evidence as possible. I creep through the door, making sure it locks behind me, and slip into the darkness. I trace the path that I know so well, the one that weaves straight through the blind spots of the cameras. This is the only time I've been thankful for my past of sneaking out and getting into trouble.

Once I hit the street, I head in the direction of the nearest station. Even with a plan, I feel lost. It's more of an idea than a plan, there are many important steps I haven't stepped through. My brain is running at one thousand miles per hour. I wander without any sense of direction, the streets distorted in the dark of the morning. Despite it being a safer option than using the stations to get to the Middle, there's no way I could walk there. It would be taking much of a risk to walk the dead-straight road with no cover whatsoever. Not even the tall peaks of grass could provide enough cover. It also takes a solid hour and a half to walk down, and my parents wake up at 5 AM, in forty minutes. But if I take the train instead, I should be able to make it to the Middle without interruptions and get to the Middle as quickly as I can.

As soon as the train station is in sight, I feel the anxiety winding a knot in my stomach. I really hope my parents don't already know I'm gone. If they do, there's no way I would even make it out of Upper-class. They would've gone to the police and the police would have alerted the officers at the gate about me being missing. If the officers at the gate know, I won't even get as far as crossing into the Middle before I would be stopped by security and have to face the pending doom of my parents. Then, I'll be useless to Oliver, again.

I look around the station. It's emptier than expected, I'm practically alone. But most importantly, there's no one who looks like they're looking for me so at least I know I'm safe for now. I quickly check the times for the trains to the Middle. There's one arriving in a few minutes. Pacing around the seats in a circle, I try to calm my nerves. The adrenaline is wearing off and letting me fall back into my emotionally distressed self. I get so lost in pacing that I don't notice a young, dark skinned security guard walk up to me.

"Good morning," he says, making me jump, "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you. Where are you headed?"

Crap.

I want to hide my face but don't want to be rude so I turn to face roughly in his direction, "Uh, just the Middle."

His eyes scan the station. "Travelling alone?"

"Yeah."

"So, what is it that you're going to the Middle for this early?" He asks.

"Just family business stuff. I have to clean the shop before we open."

I'm not good at lying. I don't want to lie to him. He doesn't seem suspicious of me at all, but I'm not about to let my guard down. He genuinely could just be bored, he might not even be interested in what I'm doing at all.

But despite my own uncertainty, the lie hits, which is expected. Everyone knows most of the businesses in the Middle are owned by Upper-class so it wouldn't be an uncommon reason.

"Oh, of course," he pauses and I send a silent prayer to whatever is out there that he doesn't ask any further questions about this made-up business. A train rattles into the station, distracting him from the conversation, "Well I believe this is your train, I'll see you around then."

I awkwardly wave him goodbye then reach for my bag, sling it over my shoulder and walk towards the open door of the train. It's hard to ignore the evident wobbling in my legs from the nerves, but I continue to stride on. The quicker I get out of here the better.

When I take my seat, my brain hums to life, filling my mind with anxiety. I've never done this before... what if something bad happens and I never get to see Oliver again. What if something bad happens to me and I can never find Oliver. I could be killing the both of us by doing this. Or dooming us to some shit outcome. And it's a ticking clock until I get caught. I may be nineteen and somewhat fit but I don't think I'll be able to escape from an officer. Why would I run from an officer? That's illegal, right? I'm going to get arrested for sure. No. Just calm down.

I take a deep breath and rest my head against the back of the seat. There's no use psyching myself out before it's actually necessary. I'll only start to worry if either Oliver or myself is in danger, which might not even happen. He's probably in danger. I've thought about it too much, and the only conclusion to his disappearance is not good for him. There's just something off about his disappearance that means I know there's danger lurking in the distance. You never know, and that's what's worrying me.

But to keep my head above the water, I tell myself he's okay. It feels horrible to do, but the chance of seeing him healthy and okay is what's giving me the strength to do what I'm doing now. I just have to tell myself that he's gone away on a surprise holiday with his father. That he's using his time in the afternoons for driving lessons or studying for an important exam. I lie so I don't have to be sick with fear.

Before I know, the Upper-class gate rolls into view and the train screeches to a stop. The stop that could end everything. I'm definitely not the hard-core, rebellious type, even if I acted like it when I was young. My legs shake as I try to stand up and the adrenaline rushes through my body again. I steady myself on a seat and get off.

There's not that many people at the gate, so if the officers have been alerted to stop me from leaving, I'm going to be an easy target. And if they try to get me, legging it isn't an option. First of all, I'm convinced my legs won't work. And second, I can't run onto the train because they'll drag me off and I definitely can't run up the eight-kilometre, barren road to Middle, they'd chase me down in a blink of an eye. Also legging it from an officer is illegal and Upper-class security is no joke.

This part of the gate passes straight through the station. It's the separating point between Upper-class trains and trains that go to the Middle. I walk up to the queue-like passage where I have to swipe my identification. Leaving through this part of the gate can definitely lead to me getting found, but I'm not leaving a direct trail to where I'm going, so I take the risk. Fear looms above my head as I approach. I force my head down to try to not draw attention to myself. I can feel the eyes of the officers scanning over my nervous figure as I reluctantly walk towards the turnstile. My feet feel heavy, as if they have been replaced for lead, and my head burns with anticipation. I need this to work. The world goes so quiet as my only way of escape comes closer and closer. My footsteps echo out, piercing through my ears and bouncing off the concrete walls.

I close in on the turnstile and slip my ID out of my pocket, briefly fiddling with it. I reach out and tap it against the card reader and wait for one of two things to happen: for it to either decline my ID and stay locked, leaving me vulnerable to the officers who would already be demanding me to surrender; or for it to accept my ID and let me push through into the Middle and go and find my boyfriend.

But as I tap it, there's no beep of recognition. The lights stay red instead of changing to green. And there's no click of the bar unlocking.

No. No, no, no.

I frantically try to stay calm. There's a slight shuffling from the guard station. I check my card, just to make sure it's the right one... and it is.

Why didn't it work? Has it already been disabled?

I tap it again, cautious of the time I'm taking. If I take too long, I'll look even more suspicious. I give the bar a nudge with my hip and it rattles but doesn't move from its spot. There's more movement from where the guards are stationed. Shit, this isn't good.

I look up and consider my chances of escaping without using my ID. I could jump the bar and sprint off. There's at least five guards on the other side of this bar and even more behind me. I look down at my card and squint at it under the grey light of the morning. It takes me a few seconds to realise that it's upside-down, ID cards don't scan if they're upside-down. I let out a small breath of relief then flip it the right way and prepare to go through all of that anxiety again.

Once again, I tap my ID. Everything stops as I wait for something to go wrong. I wait for everything to fuck me over. At this point, I'm the only person at a turnstile. Everyone else filed through effortlessly, except me. But time continues, and everything happens at once. The turnstile beeps, the light flicks to green and the bar clicks out of its lock.

Thank god.

I push through and walk across the zones.