A/N: I'm going to go ahead and plagiarize my former self.

What do we not own?!

"SHIT!"

When do we not own it?!

"JUST ABOUT ALWAYS!"

How happy are we about this?!

"NOT VERY AT ALL, SIR YES SIR!!"

I bike for hours. Hours and hours. I turn my watch inside out; that way I can, in my mind at least, bend time however I want. The whole time, Yo runs right beside me. I stop a couple of times, just to give him some water, or to eat a couple of crackers to keep from getting too hungry.

My mom says that the problem with Montana is that you never know where you are, because all forest starts to look the same after a while. I don't think so.

Suburbs, however, are a very different story. I don't know where I am, sure, but at least I'm not thinking. All these roads look kind of the same. I'm heading mostly in a straight line, and if the little compass attached to my jacket zipper is right, I'm heading east. Towards Montana. Huh. How bout that.

Anyways, this highway sure is big. I think I remember it on the way over here, when we were driving, but it could have easily been a completely different one, because all highways look the same to me, just like suburbs all look the same to me.

I bet my mom is real worried about me. I'll call her in an hour or two. Let her know I'm fine. Maybe I'll say I'm at a friend's house. That I forgot to tell her. That would be a very me thing to do.

Yeah, I'll do that, I have my cellphone.

I keep biking forward, faster and faster, and Yo keeps up magnificently. He doesn't even look winded.

Don't think, don't think, don't think. It's so easy. The cool, misty air filters in and out of my lungs, over and over again until I feel like I'm part of the air. My legs are burning, begging me to stop, but I don't.

I can't.

My mp3 player headphones are stuffed in my ears. I'm glad it was fully charged when I put it in my pocket.

Everybody's trying to be my villain, and

I was unaware of the vacancy.

Some people predict bad news and hope it never happens and

Others are content to assume authority.

A laid-back, guitar-sy tune. Golden Shoulders. It's got this sort of 'yeah, stuff sucks, oh well', vibe. That's kind of how I'm feeling.

WWJD? Uhm, I don't think Jesus ever had a werewolf friend, Grandma's Judging Jacket Pin.

Thanks anyways.

The William Tell Overture (think Lone Ranger) interrupts my self-therapy.

"Hello?"

"Sara?! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, where are you?! I've been worried sick!"

"Mom, I'm at my...friend's house. Karen."

"Did you take Yo?"

"Yeah. She...she has a dog." I wince. I feel so terrible for lying so blatantly. But what's my other option?

'Oh, yeah, I'm on the highway and it's twilight, I have no idea where I am, but Yo's getting exercise.'

'Oh, okay, call if you get hit by a car or abducted.'

'Okay.'

That'll happen.

"Do you need me to come pick you up? What's her phone number?"

"You can call me on my cell, Mom. I can get myself home."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Are you sleeping over?"

"I don't know. I'll call you..." I check my watch. Whoa. "Before ten o'clock, okay?"

There's a pause on the other line. My stomach turns. Maybe Jake is there, right now, telling my mom that he doesn't know of any Karen, and that if there were any other dogs around he would have smelled them or something.

"Okay, sweetie. Talk to you later."

"Bye Mom. Love you."

"I love you too."

As soon as I hang my phone up, I lean over the handlebars of my bike, taking a heaving breath. Getting away with it. I'll turn home now. I'll just start heading back.

Just wait for a break in the traffic. On a five-lane highway. Great.

(fifteen excruciating minutes later)

On the other side of the road now. Biking and biking, and Yo is beside me, and this feels right, this feels natural to just be going fast with no reason other than that I want to. Fast fast fast.

I see an exit up ahead.

Fear stabs my gut. I don't know where I am. I don't know how to get home. I was focusing so hard on not focusing on anything at all that I didn't note how I got on this highway.

Oh, God.

There's no way I can get home unless I call my mom and tell her everything.

Oh God.

I'm a fourteen-year-old girl on a highway at eight thirty PM, with the sky black as pitch, and I have no idea how I'm going to get home.

And if I die or get kidnapped, Yo will too.

I'm so sorry, Yo. I am so sorry.

I look down at my dog. He's sat down on the side of the highway, looking at me with his big, round, innocent eyes.

"I'm so sorry," I say, this time out loud.

He snorts at me, gives an experimental, halfhearted wag of his tail. He never makes any noise or anything. I guess I'm glad about that. Never howls.

"Aroo?"

A/N: Whoops. I only just now realized the irony of Sara running away xD. Nice going, Nit.

Anyways! I'm completely shameless, so here goes: would anyone mind terribly checking out my story at fictionpress? I rather like it, personally. It's...kinda romance-y, I suppose. Not exactly. Sort of. Uhm. Fantasy, anyways, definitely fantasy. I've made my account there my homepage on my profile here, so, if anyone wants to go ahead and just be awesome and humor poor, deranged little Nitlon who's convinced myself of some type of talent, um, do, please? By the way, I recommend the website. You don't even need disclaimers. Shweet.

(To those of you reading Daymare as well: See? I really AM shameless! Yay!)