It wasn't a new idea. Craig laid on the cold cement cellar floor, listening to his hitching breath, feeling the sharp pain in his side from being kicked. Beaten. Just like some dog, beaten.
He knew all sorts of pain, was familiar with a variety of pain. The sharp pain of kicks, the dull pain of bruises, the throbbing, the aching. There was pain that he could hardly breathe around, pain he had to breathe through. Pain that followed him like some sick animal, some creature he couldn't shake. No, it wasn't a new idea. Running away. But now it had taken on more immediacy. He had to get out of here.
He'd tried for years to be good. To be better. To stop being such a terrible kid and to stop making his dad so angry. That wasn't working. That was obvious, as he felt the tears coursing down his cheeks and he felt the hard floor beneath his bruised and battered body. That wasn't working at all. Time for plan B.
He stood up, feeling shaky, feeling dizzy. Maybe he'd pass out. He held onto the edge of the railing until the feeling passed. Running away. Right now it seemed like the only option.
The next day he was quiet in the car as he dad drove him to school. He'd looked in the mirror at the bruises and cuts, winced when he touched them. He felt it, this ache that came in waves. He had nothing to say.
His father, apologizing, giving him all that money for a new camera. Craig took the money with wide eyes. All he could think of was running away and how it would be easier with this money.
In class, the chair uncomfortable against his injuries, he barely heard his teachers. He was thinking about where to go. The United States? There were so many cool places there. New York City. L.A. Boston. Florida. Warm oceans and long stretches of beaches. He could sleep outside and not be cold. He could swim in the ocean. He could get lost in the big cities, the buildings sheltering him, no one noticing him as they rushed along their own busy lives. He shook his head. The border was the problem with going to the U.S. Too many questions, he'd probably get caught that way.
He closed his eyes, remembered the time he went to British Columbia with his mom and Joey and Angela. She had been a baby then, and his father had just started being so violent. Each time it happened it seemed an aberration, something that couldn't ever be repeated. But he had been glad to get away from his father for a few days, and had kept the bruises on his arms hidden with long sleeves despite the warm weather. British Columbia. He'd been so happy then, with his mom, the warm weather. That's where he would go.
He had this school day to get through. Daydreaming in class about British Columbia, and maybe he could take Angie with him. They could go together. She was his sister after all. He had a right to see her. He knew he could convince Emma to let her go with him. He knew Emma liked him, knew it in a distant way that he didn't have time for. He didn't have time for girls' crushes. But this crush he could use.
It was after lunch and he was hanging out on the basketball court with Sean. He liked Sean, he was cool. Sean was dribbling the ball, and Craig squinted at him, the sun in his eyes. He played a bit, even though basketball wasn't really his sport. He preferred soccer, he was good at soccer. But it was okay, kind of fun, until Sean slammed into him, knocking up against his hurt rib. The sharp pain made him bend at the waist and see stars. Fuck.
"Jesus, this isn't hockey!" he screamed at him, and he saw Sean's puzzled face but ignored it, "just play this stupid game by yourself!" He stomped off, still feeling the pain radiating from his rib to his chest and down through his stomach. He blinked back tears. Fuck Sean, fuck his dad, fuck all of them.
After school, walking with Emma to pick up Angie. He looked at her blond stringy hair, how it looked lighter in the sun. He stammered out something about how he had liked being at her house for the party, how he had felt comfortable there. It wasn't coming out right, and he felt his cheeks burning red as Emma started to look at him funny.
Angie came running over to them, and jumped on him. He smiled, picked her up. She started to chant, "park," and Emma shook her head.
"I don't know, guys," she said, "I have a lot of homework to do. The T.V. is gonna help babysit,"
"Well, I can take her, right?" Craig said, and it sounded casual and confident, up until that last word. He heard all the vulnerability in it. The naked longing and pleading that crept into that last word. He wondered if Emma heard it, and if she did, if she understood.