"Dude Looks Like a Lady"

Chapter 3 Run Away (Rays POV)

Chapter 3

Run Away

~Ray (2004)

When you think about running away it seems simple. Cram your feet into your trainers, tie 'em and run. Run far away. Run through the forest, up a hill, along the path and never ever look back. 'Cept its not like that. I ran, far away from that house Mrs.Kent told me to call home. Wasn't my home. Was hers. My mom was dead, died along time ago. I remember her face was so pale, two heavy black bags under her eyes and every day growing twice as thin as the last. She died when I was four, it hurt but I could live without her. Dad couldn't, that's why he died. He left a note explaining how I looked so much like my mother and how he was constantly reminded of her and his heart hurt so much. He said he loved me in that note, but coded in that message was that I was the one who killed him by looking too much like her. Cried myself to sleep that night and all the nights after. I was fostered here and there, couldn't bare it no more. I didn't like Mrs.Kent or her sons; they would pick on me lots. Dad left a present with the note the dad he died, another one of those special picks. Momentum it was called. They stole it a said it was theirs and that I was lying and Mrs.Kent believed them! I wouldn't be able to get all one hundred and one now... So I ran, I was sick of foster homes, sick to the bone of them! I ran and ran and ran, but stupid me forgot I had nowhere to run to. I doubled over, breathless in the snow and waited to die of the cold. Wanted to die so badly, Wanted to see mom and dad... I wanted to see my friends back in my old neighbourhood again. I remember I couldn't make friends at school, didn't really know how. Just had this thing about me that made nobody wanna play with me. Then I was playing guitar outside one day, for fun. I liked guitar, my Mom taught me when I was little how to play a mini one, then it became a hobby and then more than that. It was kinda like I was in heaven when I played. Didn't know if I believed in heaven or not, but I felt it sometimes.

I played Wonderwall by oasis, which was easy enough. A boy about a year younger than me dashed over screaming, 'Oasis! Oasis! Teach me! Teach me!' So I did. By the end of the week, I was a guitar instructor with a class of seven that took place in my garden. There was Dylan who was the one who ask me first, then there was Kyle and Henry who were older than me, Jodie who was five, Gregor who wasn't much older, Jake who was ages with me and then there was Crystal... only a year younger than me and very very pretty. Too pretty. It made me feel jealous when Dylan or Henry talked to her... Kyle would snap at her often telling her she was doing wrong and she'd cry which, in all honesty, made me not only a little sad but a little excited. I knew I would be the one to stop her tears running and that made me feel special. I'd give her a shot of Blesser, it was the shiniest plectrum I had and had pink writing. She was so excited and gave me lots of hugs, I really enjoyed that, so I gave it to her more often and more often I'd get hugs. People made fun of her name lots, Crystal Sparrow, I thought it was so pretty. I liked things made out of crystals and I like birds, so there wasn't anything unlikable 'bout her name. It was prettier than mine and prettier than all of theirs. I wanted to see her again, I wondered if I ever would... I remember how hard she was crying when I was leaving, the only way to stop her would be to tell her I was staying but how could I ever lie to her?

I felt something hit my back hard, 'YOUCH!' I yelped and jumped up from the snow, looming over me was a fifteen-year-old, tall with broad shoulders and a handsome smile girls would swoon over.

'What's a brat like you doing in the snow, huh?'

'Dying.' I said bluntly.

'Why?'

'Don't wanna live.'

'Any particular reason or can you not be bothered living.'

'My parents are dead, don't see much point in live no more.' He twitched at that; a bit of guilt and sympathy glistened in his eyes like it did in everybody else. Only thing was, he was more intrigued than sympathetic.

'Where you living then?'

'Im not. Im dying.'

'Alright. Where were you living?'

'With a mean foster carer and her bastards of sons.'

'Oh, mean words for a brat like you huh?'

'Im not a brat. What do you want anyhow?' He raised his hand and between his finger and thumb was Zephyr. I grabbed my pockets, totally empty. I looked around, saw them scattered around me and quickly grabbed for all of them and counted. 9. He had only one.

'Since you're busy dying you won't mind if I keep this huh?'

'No!' I cried jumping up and hitting my fist against his chest, 'Gimme him back! Gimme Zephyr back!'

'Him?' He laughed, 'Didn't know a pick had balls.' He shoved me back into the snow and I began to cry as he crouched down by my side.

'I'm starting a band.' He smiled down at me; 'Do you play guitar?' I nodded and then he gave Zephyr back. 'And do you really wanna die?'

'What else can I do?' I wept, 'Got nowhere to go now, do I?'

'I ran away not so long ago too, I live in an old abandoned farmhouse up on the hills. Not much, but I fixed it up with my money busking. Might take a while to get a band together but we can both busk in the meanwhile. You don't have to have mean old foster homes anymore.'

'Don't have a guitar.'

'I've got two.' He smiled, 'And I turn sixteen soon, so soon I'll have a job and can buy an oven to cook food with instead of some dumb old camp oven.'

I looked at him through tears, he was blurry and misshapen but I could feel the kindness of his smile radiate on me. I held out my hand and he helped me up. 'My name is Ray Everson.' I shook his big warm hand.

'The names Eric Kasey,' He grinned, 'But I go by the name of Strings.'