Chapter Two

On the Trail, Laying Tracks

Once, her family had been her world, and she supposed the statement still held. It was the people who made up the concept that had shifted. A long time ago family had meant Mommy and Daddy and baby sister to Casey MacDonald. After that, it was just her, mom and Lizzie, but not for long, because then came George, Marti, Edwin… and even Derek, as much as he evaded any real attempt at classification. Now, all Casey had in the way of family was one small boy, and that small boy had only her.

But that didn't matter, because Casey took all the love she had for those she'd left behind and added it to what she already lavished on her son.

The problem was, love wasn't enough to nourish a growing boy like Dare, much as Casey wanted to believe it was. She was making out okay, she supposed, getting by, but that was only because her dad hadn't yet noticed she was still using his credit card to fund her wanderings across America.

She knew he eventually would, and when he realised, Casey knew he'd be able to track her down to Florida, where she'd spent the first days of Dare's life and then through the myriad states that she'd crossed on her way to California, where she'd landed yesterday. Casey knew that she needed to stop using the card, but once she did, that would be the end of the row. She wouldn't be able to afford to traverse by bus anymore, and she would have to stop, stay in one place. And Casey had no idea what she'd do once that happened.

She had never been so incredibly unprepared in all her life.

Casey had no plan, and her resources were rapidly depleting. Sure, she had the card, which she could probably use to fund another month's worth of bus trips before it maxed out. Besides that, she had a little less than five hundred dollars in cash, reaped from savings accounts and a handful of trinkets sold to a shifty man in a junky store. She also had her son, the one no one knew about, her little boy, who would never know his closest relations.

And so, Casey supposed, it evened out. Having Dare made up for not having a home in a lot of ways (what it didn't make up for was Dare not having a home…)

She knew that if she had remained, she never could have had her baby. Her mother had told Casey as much without even knowing about Dare, in those awful days, after her stepbrother had caught her in bed with him…

"Are you pregnant?" Nora had asked baldly, after barging into her eldest daughter's room. Casey, who had been laying on her bed, just done with sobbing, was startled.

"What-"

"Answer me," her mother had snapped, eyes closed as though she couldn't even stand the sight of her perfect child, so fallen from grace, "The sooner we know, the easier it will be to… take care of it."

Casey had gone cold. Fear and rage and panic had all mixed, churning in her gut, making her nauseous. "No!" she'd cried, as much a prayer as a denial. "I'm not pregnant!"

"Good," Nora had stated through gritted teeth, not seeming relieved by the news, only resentful that she'd been forced to seek it. She had left without once looking at Casey.

She had cried a long time that night, playing her radio on full blast to cover her sobs, to drown out the sounds of another fight happening downstairs. When, a week later, Casey found out her mother's worries were actually well founded, she knew that she had to get out. She had to be away from London, where she could recover from the shock and reach her own conclusions, make her own plans.

So, two days later, she had dried her tears, gone down stairs and gathered the family that could no longer be hers together. "I'm going to New York," she had announced, "To live with my dad."

Edwin had frowned, Lizzie had stormed out and Marti had wailed her denial. Derek's reaction was drowned out by the little girl's cries, but Casey thought he might have jerked towards her reflexively, before Marti had thrown herself at him. George had looked at Nora, and Casey's mother had said, "When do you leave?"

That moment broke Casey, a little, hearing her mother so cold, so unable to connect with her, but it had also hardened her resolve. She was taking baby and getting the hell out of Dodge.

And she had, but the thing was, the next place she went after Dodge hadn't been so stellar either. Her father had read her a stern lecture right off the bat about how he expected her to behave while under his roof and had promptly signed her up at an all girls private school. That had been the last conversation consisting of more than a dozen words that they had had. Casey worried constantly about what her father would say when he finally realised she was pregnant. She had half hoped to find refuge with her father, someone who would stand beside her… take care of her.

But that was foolish, since her dad had never really been the hands on type of parent. Casey had realised within about five minutes of landing in New York that she'd miscalculated in a fundamental way.

And that was it. Casey was out of places to run to, there was no longer any chance of finding support for the decision she had made. So Casey had no choice but to go it alone, harden her resolve and prepare to become totally independent in the scary, grown up way.

She'd spent the next months playing the role of the good daughter, and preparing to flee. She saved all the money she could, packed and repacked her bag, and she studied maps. In the end though, she simply gone to the bus station and bought a ticket for the first bus out of town. There was nowhere she particularly wanted to end up, so Casey figured it didn't matter how she got there. A bus going South was just as good as one headed North.

And in that way, Casey had landed in Miami, which was where Dare was born, in a hospital she'd paid for with the largest part of her savings. She'd stayed a few weeks there, but soon Casey was sick of staying. She was ready to hop another bus and leave behind the relentless sunshine shelter where she had been staying.

Two days later, she was somewhere in Georgia, a small town along the bus route where Casey could feel the history in the streets. She might have stayed awhile there, but she'd already found it was easier to deal with Dare when they were on a bus then when they were stuck in towns, wondering where to go to sleep at night. That was the problem Casey had in the vast majority of American states. There was no place to go when you didn't have money to pay for the privilege.

Casey supposed that was probably true in Canada as well, but she'd never thought to ask those who didn't have money how they lived in her hometown.

Now she was scrambling to gather knowledge from the people who ran shelters, and those who had lived in them for years.

One thing she learned quickly was that you had to treat every day as a new adventure, all its own. There could be no planning when you didn't know where your next meal was coming from or where you'd sleep that night. Each day, you had to deal with the situation that arose.

Today's dilemma centred around the fact that her baby boy was now a year old.

In honour of the occasion, Casey was going to splurge on a trip to MacDonald's. She'd order a burger and Dare could have the fries. Casey had only bought him French fries once before, but he'd giggled and smiled as she fed them to him. Maybe they could even have an ice cream afterwards.

But before any of that could happen, Casey had to get them both cleaned up, which was generally harder to do than to say.

"Come on, Dare, sweetie," Casey cooed as her little boy babbled and kicked his feet, "Just hold still for mommy."

Casey eventually managed to wash most of her son in bits and pieces in the sink of the public washroom in the park where they'd slept the night before. The clothes were harder, but she managed to find a presentable t-shirt in the bottom of the bag, and his jeans are clean enough to do. Carefully, she brushes his hair, cleans his teeth as he squirms and giggles. Finally, he looks better than he has in weeks, like an ordinary little boy. Perhaps his hair is a little too long, he may be a bit too thin, but what of it? He looks like a prince to Casey, even despite the faded, too big denim jacket.

She is much more critical of her own reflection, but there's less she can do about it. She wets the brush before smoothing it through hair long grown out of its last style. She pulls long brown locks back into a pony tale and scrubs her face and hands clean. The sweater she wears is faded, but warm, one of her better thrift store finds. There is little else she can do, now, beyond scrub her teeth and remember wistfully a closet of pretty clothes she's left behind.

But the melancholy spell is soon broken when she looks down at Dare to find his blue eyes tipped up, looking at her, too. And he smiles his baby's grin, the white teeth impossibly small. The world is good again, because Dare is happy.

"Come on, sunshine, Mommy has a treat for you today!" she says, sweeping the toddler into her arms and twirling him out the door. It is well they're done, because on the way out they pass the woman who is clearly employed to clean this washroom. She looks down her nose at Casey and Dare and their beaten up backpack. Casey knows she would have liked to cause them problems, tell them off, it she'd had the chance.

But soon the young mother shrugs it off. Nothing can up set her for long, not today. It's Dare's birthday and she's going to make it count! There is much to celebrate today, after all. Dare is one whole year old, which is very important in the life of a child, and what's more, it's been more than a year since Casey left her father's apartment for the last time, and they are still okay.

Sure, there are things they lack, make do without, things Casey misses. It's been much more than a year since she spoke to Lizzie, or anyone else…

That thought, though she tries to push it aside, recurs again and again in Casey's mind. Finally, sitting on a park bench while Dare naps beside her, Casey makes a foolish decision. She counts up her change carefully, but she knew she had enough because they didn't get ice cream after all.

Casey carefully drops the coins into the payphone beside the bench, one hand resting on Dare's shaggy head. She presses the long string of numbers…

And it rings. She wants to hang up, but she can't and really, wouldn't that just be a waste of money? So she presses the phone to her ear and waits.

"Hello?" says a voice out of a memory.

"Hi," Casey says, fighting tears, "Can I talk to Lizzie?" It hurts when Marti, the little stepsister she still adores, passes on the phone, never recognising the voice on the other end. But then Lizzie is there, and the feeling of warmth Casey has then makes up for the little girl's forgetfulness.

"Oh, Lizard," Casey sighs to her little sister.

"Casey?" gasps the other, "Where are you? Are you okay? What happened to you?"

"I'm in California, Lizard," she says before she thinks about it. "But you can't tell anyone!"

"So… you're not on your way home? You're still in L.A.?"

"Wait- you know I'm in L.A.? I've only been here two days-"

"Dad tracked you, through your credit card," Lizzie told her, "He sends me an email when you buy another bus ticket."

"But…if they knew, why didn't they come after me?" Casey asked, feeling hurt in a way she didn't think she could be hurt anymore, blindsided by further parental indifference.

"Dad said you'd come home on your own," Lizzie said in a small voice, "If we left you long enough, and then he threatened to stop telling mom where you were if she tried to go after you. But are you coming home?"

"No, we can't, I'm sorry," Casey is crying now, partly because she misses Lizzie and partially because her parents knew, this whole time and mostly becausethat's two stupid things she's said now.

"Who's we?" asked Lizzie slowly, accusingly, as if both reluctant and desperate to hear the name of the one who'd replaced the family in Casey's affections and daily life.

"Me and Darius," Casey said, closing her eyes and hoping she could pull herself together enough to have this conversation.

"Who's Darius?" asked Lizzie, sounding angry now, as though having a name to focus on, a person to blame for her sister's defection had brought the rage out in her.

"He's the love of my life, Lizard," Casey said, tears dripping down her cheeks, as she stroked her son's hair.

"Really? Did you meet him in New York? Is he the reason you ran away from Dad's?"

"He's the reason," Casey admitted, "But don't hate him for it, Liz. I love him so much, and we're happy here, Dare and me."

"Don't hate him? How do you expect me not to?" Lizzie's voice was raising, tears clear in her voice, and Casey wished so much that she hadn't called, "He stole my sister, Casey! He took you away from us, even farther away than New York! Do you know how long they've been searching for you? Mom's a wreck! He did that to her! You both did, Casey! Come back home, Casey, or I'll make dad go get you! You know I can, you know he'll do it, if I ask! Come home, now!"

And Casey would have tried to do something, say something to bring Lizzie around, but there was scuffling on the other end and Lizzie's attention was pulled away from the phone. Suddenly there was a different voice on the other end.

"Casey? Casey, is that you, sweetie?" her mom's voice is pleading, but all the same, Casey goes cold, thinking of the last words she'd said.

She slams down the receiver, and pulls Dare into her arms, gathering their things frantically. She picks up her son and their backpack and she runs from the payphone, as though her mother could somehow reach down through the line and snatch away Casey's son.

And Casey runs right to the bus station, because where else is she supposed to go? And she's already bought a ticket before she remembers Lizzie's threat and the fact that her Dad's credit card is a liability now. So she buys two more tickets, for buses going in two different directions, and she takes them over to the bench, still juggling a sleepy Dare and their backpack. Casey stares at the tickets, and tries to make a decision. Where to next?

She sits there so long, she misses the first bus. She crumples that ticket and still can't choose between the options left to her. And so the second bus rolls out of town without her. So Casey supposes that she and Dare will have to wait around another two hours for the last bus, which will take them Las Vegas.

Casey wrinkles her nose, wishing that she had just pulled herself together in time to get on the bus that would take her north, or even the one headed to San Diego. Vegas was just not a place Casey MacDonald could see herself in, especially not at the age of sixteen with a small child. Maybe that was a good thing, though. Perhaps her former family would also find it impossible to picture her in Las Vegas, and maybe this could be her true escape.

Still, Casey had been looking forward to taking Dare to the beach. She'd thought they might camp there, if she could find them a quiet stretch. To Casey, that made running away seem like an adventure again, like it had on the way to Miami. She had really, really wanted to paddle in the ocean with Dare…

Perhaps she still could, they had two hours to spare, before the bus left. Of course, they'd want to be back a bit before that, so they could get on board and make sure they didn't miss it.

Not that Casey had ever wanted to miss a bus more than she did right now. But it wouldn't be smart to miss this one, not when she'd used up most of her resources buying the ticket.

And then a thought struck Casey. Maybe missing this bus would be very, very wise, after all. She'd bought three bus tickets to confuse people, and cover her tracks, hadn't she? Well, what would confuse people more than buying three tickets and not using any of them?

It was a scary thought, Casey acknowledged, tantamount to saying she wanted California to be her new home, but it was a good thought, too.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Casey picked up her son, who had been growing cranky anyway, and walked out of the bus terminal. Once outside, she paused a moment and looked around.

Yes, she and Dare could be happy here.

***

"Okay, Lizzie, run through it, one more time," he asked.

"I've already told you everything Casey said to me twice!" replied the girl in frustration. "She said she was in California, and was surprised that I already knew. Then she asked why you hadn't come after her, if you knew where she was. I begged her to come home, and she told me she couldn't."

"Couldn't, not wouldn't?" Nora interjected again.

"Yes!"

"And then what happened?" prompted George, focusing on his stepdaughter, rather than his wife or her ex, both beside him and opposite Lizzie at their dining room table.

"We got in a fight," Lizzie said, "I asked why she ran away from New York, she told me she was happier that way, but that I shouldn't hate dad for letting her get away. Then I yelled, mom realised who was on the phone and took it from me."

"You're sure that's all she said? All you said?" her dad asked, for the third time.

"Yes," Lizzie said, staring down all three of the adults.

"Why don't you go, Liz?" asked George finally, "We need to talk about some things."

Lizzie left, headed up to her room. On the way, someone intercepted her, though.

"What didn't you tell them?" Derek asked quietly, once he'd dragged his stepsister into his bedroom.

"What makes you think I didn't tell them everything?"

"I heard more of the conversation on the phone than Nora did," Derek told her, gesturing for Lizzie to find a seat, "I heard you ask Casey if she 'met him in New York' and if he was 'the reason she ran away'."

Lizzie sighed. "His name is Darius, apparently, but she calls him Dare."

"So she met a guy in New York, and what? Eloped?" Derek asked, one hand clenched in to a fist.

Lizzie looked up at him, seeming conflicted. "I guess…"

"What else do you know?" Derek asked, pouncing on the hesitation, leaning in to sling an arm around the younger girl.

"It's not really something I know," Lizzie countered, "Only, 'Darius' was always her favourite name, when we were little, and it's hardly a common one."

"So what? You think she made up a pretend boyfriend?" Derek scoffed, but his mood seemed to lighten a little.

"I don't know, but it's an awfully big coincidence," Lizzie said, before sighing, "Look, Derek, all I really know is that every imaginary friend and dream prince my sister ever had was named Darius after some Persian king."