Flee Read Online Free PDF Page A

willing to ask her to do that. The only plan I currently had in place was to finish my senior year and then strike out on my own financially, working to pay for college and living as frugally as I could. Mom wouldn’t like it, but I was hoping she would understand. With a grunt, I shook my head and turned to my history homework.
    ****
    The sun wasn’t even a thought in the sky when I awakened the next morning. Sleep just didn’t seem to be my companion lately. I got up, fed Doodles, and paced around the kitchen restlessly. A run. I needed to run and clear my head. The streetlights in our windy, tree-filled neighborhood were sparse, and since I didn’t relish the thought of being struck by a car before I’d even had breakfast, I decided to head for the track around the football field at school. Leaving a note for Mom, I grabbed a water bottle, protein bar and my bag, and left. There were only two other cars in the parking lot when I arrived. One I recognized from the day before as the janitor’s. My truck could have eaten the other, a little red Mini-Cooper, for lunch.
    A repetitive thumping sound interrupted my walk to the track. What was that? I knew that sound, but my sleep deprived mind refused to identify it. It was coming from behind the gym, so I rounded the corner and stopped, hidden in the darkness, and then smiled at the sight before me. Blake. Beautiful. She moved in the light from a streetlamp, expertly juggling a soccer ball and counting softly to herself each time she made contact. Her control was good. She didn’t have to move much to connect with the ball. It landed where she expected it to, and she gently sent it back into the air.
    â€œTwo-forty-three, two-forty-four…” She turned her head as the ball moved slightly and saw my shadow. The ball hit the ground with a thud, and she kicked it in frustration. “Crap. I was going for a record.”
    â€œImpressive. I’m sorry I distracted you.” I kicked her ball back to her, and she trapped it beneath her left foot. Beautiful and athletic. And hurting. Why was she hurting? I couldn’t ask that, so I attempted light and trivial. “You didn’t tell me you played soccer.”
    â€œYou didn’t ask,” she replied, looking down.
    â€œTouché.” Look back up, Blake. Don’t be sad .
    Her head popped up suddenly as if she heard me and I jumped . Calm down Mateo. She’s not a mind reader .
    â€œWhat are you doing here so early? Didn’t anyone tell you school doesn’t start until eight? You’re two hours too early, Soccer Boy.” Defiant now. Changing the subject. Red-cheeked and bright-eyed from exertion. Never more attractive.
    Distance, Mateo , I reminded myself. I needed to walk away and go for that run. Just do what you came here to do . But she was alone. Vulnerable. And I knew I couldn’t leave her behind the gym in the dark.
    â€œWell, Soccer Girl.” I grinned at her and hoped I could lighten the mood. “I thought I would go for a run. Wanna join me?” So much for distance. “Although I must warn you, my awesome speed and finesse are a sight to behold, and you might rather just watch.” I hoped to draw a smile. I got a smirk instead.
    â€œWell someone had a big dose of himself for breakfast.” She looked at the track, hesitant. A deep breath. A shrug of her shoulders. “Okay, I’ll join you. See what you’ve got. I hope I’m not disappointed. I hate to start the day off on a sour note.”
    â€œNo worries there. I promise a brilliant start to the day.”
    We ran in silence for the next forty-five minutes. I shortened my stride some to match hers and enjoyed the quiet companionship. Her breathing remained even and steady. She was in great shape and more used to the heat and humidity than I was. Finally, I slowed to a walk and she slowed beside me.
    â€œThanks,” she said, eyes on shoes, voice soft and