"Tonight? Bee do you think that's such a good idea?" Al's voice is hesitant and it instantly annoys me.

"Come on Al, I need to get out of here. It's now or never. I'm ready to live." I say, trying to sound as convincing as possible. Eighteen years of being sheltered and eighteen years of my father's rules have brought me to this. I've never been outside of Washington on my own.

"What about money? Won't Mason notice you're gone?" I roll my eyes at him. I know how to sneak away from Mason, at least for a little while. Usually Al is always up for an adventure, but he thinks going on this trip with me without 's permission is a death wish. Which it is, but I don't let Daddy kill him.

"I've got it covered. Just be in the guest lot in half an hour. Taylor is asleep, but keep your lights off anyway because Mason is awake. I'll climb down my balcony. Laters." And without waiting for a reply, I end the call. Al is reliable and he always listens to me. He'll be more relaxed once we're on the road.

Trying to keep my head straight yet rushing to get things ready, I grab a Coach suitcase from my walk in closet. I have so many clothes to choose from that I'm overwhelmed. I throw things haphazardly; camisoles, a few nice shirts, jeans, shorts, bras, panties, silk pajamas. I don't have time to be too particular so I hope for the best. The one thing I make sure I have is my red strapless dress and black Jimmy Choo sandals, in case we go clubbing or decide to have a fancy dinner along the way. Next I remove an empty floorboard from under my bed, where I've been hiding emergency cash (My dad is notorious for tracking my bank account). Every day for the past two months I've withdrawn one hundred dollars cash and put it away, just in case I had to sneak away like this. I secretly thank myself for planning ahead. I think six thousand dollars will be enough so that we won't have to stop at any banks along the way.

Next I saunter over to my full-length mirror to double-check my appearance. Besides the make up-smudges, I look pretty okay. Big grey eyes bright, pale skin clear and, long dark curls silky and frizz-free. Besides the hair, I've been told I look a lot like my dad. I shake my head; I don't want to think about him right now. He's so irrational and controlling and it pisses me off like nothing else. After washing my face in my adjoined bathroom, I re-apply dark eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. Then I throw my make-up bag, my phone, the money, and some other necessities into a tote bag. Right on cue I hear Al's fake birdcall from outside my window. This trick worked all through high school; Al would pull into our guest lot towards the back of the house, call for me (which wouldn't alert security since it sounds like a bird) and I would climb down my balcony and meet him. It got a lot easier around junior year when Al got his license and a car.

I take one last glance at my bedroom, all purple walls, dark wood floor, and white Victorian furniture. Thinking of my mother, I run over to my desk and scribble a not in loopy handwriting that simply says "Don't worry, I need to do this on my own. Love Phoebe." Mentally I register where everyone is in the house; Mom is probably in the library, reading. Mr. Overprotective is in his office barking orders at the people that work for him. Taylor and Gail are in their suite with their daughters. Mason is up in his office doing some sort of work. My parents probably won't notice I'm gone for at least an hour an a half, which gives me and Al time to set we'll toss my cell phone somewhere and then travel in the opposite direction. Shit, my dad is going to be so mad. I smirk at the thought. Don't get me wrong, I love my Dad to death. He and my Mom have been great parents and they've given me everything I've ever wanted. It's just I need to prove to him that I'm capable of doing something on my own. I switch out the light and climb out onto my balcony overlooking the Sound. It's absolutely gorgeous out, somewhat chilly for a July night. I have the Sound to thank for the light breeze that flutters through my hair.

I toss down my bag and suitcase, then carefully and as quietly as possible I climb down the terrace attached to my balcony, careful to avoid the roses; they have thorns. I learned that the hard way. Butterflies fill my tummy as I run over to Al's car. We're really doing it! We're going to New York! I walk over to the trunk of his midnight blue 2012 Camry and knock on it. He pops it for me and I lug my suitcase into it, noticing that he's back himself a duffel bag as well. I can't help my smile ear to ear as I slide in to the passengers seat next to him.

"Bee." He greets me with a perfect, white smile. Al is hot, I have to admit. Tan skin, dark medium length hair that's messy in a cute way, and big dark green eyes. Don't forget the muscles. Girls are always all over him, which bugs me because I only want him to have the best. He doesn't normally go after many girls though. But the best part about him is that he's such a sweetheart. And he's reliable, and protective without being overbearing, like a big brother.

"Al." I whisper. I know that nobody can hear us, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

"Why are we whispering?" he teases, his green eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Just a precaution, Let's get out of here!" He listens to me, putting the car into reverse and carefully turning around in the guest lot. Within minutes we're driving down the main driveway, with the lights off still. I think those are the longest five minutes of my life. When we're finally on the road, with both relax, and I realize I had been holding my breath the entire time.

"Where to ?" he asks, playfully mocking Mason's formality. I pull the map out of my tote bag that I have marked off in pink highlighter.

"First, let's stop in Portland and toss my phone. They'll think we're traveling south when my Dad tracks it. Then we get back on I-5 and take 1-90 East all the way to New York. Stopping occasionally for gas and food and sleep of course."

"Are you sure we should take such an obvious route?" He asks, raising his eyebrow at me. What is with him? He usually doesn't question me.

"Yes. It's reverse psychology. Since the way we're taking is so obvious, my Dad will assume I wouldn't go this way. He'll definitely think I took the backroads. Just trust me."
I check the clock. It's nine thirty, and I estimate my dad won't realize I'm gone until at least ten thirty. At the speed we're going we'll be in Portland in at least an hour. The car ride passes with some joking, small talk, and listening to great music of course. Right as we pull into a convenience store in Portland, my phone rings. It's my dad. Shitshitshitshitshit.
My panic is evident on my face apparently, because Al asks me what's wrong.

"My Dad is calling. Shit." I get out of the car, and run over to the nearest trashcan. I switch it off and toss it in, adrenaline pumping through my veins. When I'm back in the car, I take a look around the parking lot. No sign of Taylors SUV or Mason's black Audi. I sigh and relax. Either he hasn't tracked me yet or his security just isn't here yet.

"We have to get out of here." I snap at Al as he backs out, and before we know it we're back on 1-5, back on our merry way. I take deep breaths. "I thought he had caught us already." I say with a relieved laugh.

"Miss Grey, I believe a celebration is in order." He says, with an eyebrow raised.

"And what is that occasion?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"We just made the great escape."

I process his words. We really did escape, and we're on our way to New York

City. Everything has run surprisingly smoothly, a lot more smooth than I thought it would. Suddenly my stomach grumbles and I realize I didn't eat dinner because I had been too busy arguing. "I'm starving." I murmur, looking out the window.

"I've got you covered chica, look in the glove compartment."

I do as I'm told, and there sitting in the compartment between us is a feast; Nutrigrain bars, trail mix, bags of dried fruit, and way at the bottom, my absolute favorite; Swedish Fish.

"Aw, Al. You're so thoughtful." I say, ignoring all the healthy choices and ripping open the bag of Swedish Fish. I plop one into my mouth and savor it. I don't normally eat candy; we keep mostly healthy foods stocked in the house, which does benefit my active lifestyle. Pilates and kickboxing four days a week require a nutritious diet.

"Only for you, Bee." This makes me smile. I can always count on my best friend.

The next hour goes by quicker than expected; not many people are on the road surprisingly, and Al is driving at a nice clip. I gather my tote bag up and make a makeshift pillow, and slowly I feel myself begin to drift off to sleep. I dream of giant Swedish Fish swimming through Times Square and angry grey eyes and being chased by Taylor's SUV. I wake to Al gently shaking me and saying my name repeatedly.

"Phoebe, Phoebe, wake up!" I jolt up, fully awake. I can immediately tell something is wrong by the tone of his voice. Plus, he's calling me Phoebe, not Bee. He's called me Bee forever.

"What is it?" I ask, feeling panic rise in my stomach.

"I think we're being followed. What does Mason drive?"

"A black Audi."

"Shit!" he steps on the gas, weaving in and out of the traffic which now surrounds us. I look at the digital clock and find that it's two thirty am. I've been asleep for four hours?

I look over my shoulder, the Audi is getting farther and farther behind us as we weave through traffic. I had never mentioned it to my dad, but Mason is not the best aggressive driver. I'm silently thankful for this as we continue to drive.

"Get off at this next exit!" I say, urgent to get off the highway and out of my bodyguards vicinity. I actually feel bad for Mason, he's probably a nervous wreck. Al gets off at the exit I've dictated, and notice a big blue and white sign that says "Welcome to Idaho" as we continue to drive over the speed limit, putting more distance between us and Mason. I feel the adrenaline once more and I realize I've never felt this alive. I roll down my window and the wind whips my hair across my face. Mason is nowhere in sight, and we're safe and sound in a town called Post Falls. I look over to see Al grinning at me, but he's visibly exhausted.

"Why don't we stop and get a room somewhere?" I suggest, and he looks relieved. We drive up the road for a while and find a Sleep Inn. It's certainly not the five star hotels that I'm used to, but now is not a time to be snobby. I help Al unload our bags from the trunk. We've parked in back just in case, so it's a longer walk to the main lobby. Suddenly, I freeze.

"Al."

"Hmm?"

"We're going to have to give I.D.

"I'm waaaay ahead of you. You know how people always say I look like my cousin Hernesto? He let me borrow his I.D. And, he's twenty one." He says with a wink. Honestly getting drunk is the farthest thing from my mind right now.

"Al, I could just kiss you." The words come out of my mouth before I think of the consequences. His ears turn so red they look almost purple.

"Uh." Is all he manages to get out before we're greeted by an overly-perky blonde who eyes us suspiciously. Well, two young adults show up to a hotel at three A.M and they're bound to cause suspicion.

"We'd like a room with two twin beds please." He sputters at her, fumbling in his wallet and producing an I.D. I hand him a two hundred dollars cash from my pocket. The girl gives us a fake, overly whitened smile and hands us a room key, letting us know that our room is on the fifth floor. Suddenly, I'm exhausted and my suitcase weighs a ton as we ride the elevator up five flights.

We enter the room, and it's cute and cozy. Yellow walls, a mini bar, two twin beds with crisp white sheets, and a bathroom. I claim the bathroom and unload my bag of toiletries. Within ten minutes my hair has been brushed and put into a messy bun, my make-up is removed, and I'm wearing a grey camisole and black silk pajama shorts. Suddenly I feel shy as I exit the bathroom and enter the main bedroom. I can't help but giggle at what I find; Al, slumped diagonal across one of the beds, still in full clothes, fast asleep and snoring. Trying my best not to disturb him, I crawl into the other bed and curl up in a ball. And I drift off to sleep, 400 miles away from home in a random hotel room with my best friend.