I really like Peter. I think he's very cool. This story doesn't give a lot of detail about the surrounding of whoever is narrating because I'm basically telling you what's going on in their minds. This is the first story I've written in a while, and my first fan fiction ever, so please review and you can tell me if it's really bad, so, enjoy!

[Disclaimer] I own none of the original 7th Heaven characters.

"Peter, is that you?" I called out from the kitchen once I heard a door shut quietly as if someone was sneaking in. "Peter?" I called again after no answer. I wiped my wet, soapy hands on a towel and headed for the stairs.

I hope it's Peter. I told him to be home half an hour ago. Because Peter is picky when it comes to clothes, I gave him money so he can buy his own clothes. I also brought his friend Ruthie Camden to the mall. Ruthie's a good kid. I hope she'll have a positive influence on him and help him pick out some nice clothes.

"Peter, are you home?" I yelled a little bit louder. No one answered me. I ran up the stairs, kind of frightened. I ran so fast that I tripped and got a rug burn. I didn't let that stop me. I was determined. I kept on running until I got to the top.

First, I ran to Peter's room. The door was closed, like always, so I knocked. Actually, I banged. After a few seconds, my knuckles were swollen and red, so I stopped and listened. I heard the faint rustling of a plastic bag, so I tip-toed around the hall, trying to guess where it was coming from.

The bathroom! Of course! I softly knocked on the door, my heart beating very quickly. If Peter really is in here, why didn't he answer me when I called?

"Peter, it better be you in there!" I said. The response to this was a mutter, but it definitely came from Peter. "Can I come in? I want to see what you bought!"

"Uhh...hold on for a second, will ya?" Peter responded. I then heard a louder version of the rustling of a plastic bag. Then Peter opened the door. The first thing I noticed was that his cheeks were bright red.

"Are you feeling alright? Your cheeks are so red!" I said.

"MOM! I didn't do anything! Cheesus! Why do you accuse me of every little thing?" Peter shouted at me. Before I knew it, he was sobbing uncontrollably on the floor.

"Peter, honey, I didn't accuse you of anything. I just asked if you were feeling alright because you're cheeks are awfully red," I said, desperately trying to understand what had just happened. "There, there, Pete, it's ok now. I think we just had a little misunderstanding. Now, show me what you have."
Peter beckoned me inside, and then motioned for me to sit down upon the seat of the toilet. He reached into the tub, and pulled out about 7 large bags. I gasped.

"Peter, how.." I began, but Peter put his hand on my mouth, and I got the hint and kept quiet.

"Well, I looked for bargains. You gave me enough cash to buy a few shirts and a couple pairs of jeans at those expensive stores, but I figured I could buy triple the amount of clothes at some other stores. Actually, it was Ruthie's idea," he said, quite proudly. He began to lay out all the clothes and I was so astounded that I just grabbed Peter and hugged him until he began to choke.

"I didn't know it would be that big of a deal, but I'm glad you're proud of me, Mom. I love you!" He sounded really happy.

"Aww...I love you too Peter. Now, I have some great news! The judge thinks that your father is now responsible enough to have you be able to stay with him for a while. We have it all arranged. In a week, you'll be moving to San Francisco! Isn't this exciting?" I said, hoping he would be excited. If he wasn't, we would have a dilemma on our hands.

"NO! I love him and all, but I'm not going to live with him! You can't make me! I won't go! I won't! Did you make this decision with consulting me? Did you make it without even thinking about how I was going to feel? I'm not going!!!"

"Peter, we did think about you! We thought about how excited you'd be! Why aren't you happy about this? He's your father! Peter, I'm sorry to say, you have to go. We already made arrangements for you to go to a very nice school, expensive, but you'll get a lot out of it, and, oh Peter, why not? It will be fun!" I coaxed. Uh oh, now what are we going to do?

"Mom! I can't go! You can't make me! My life is here, not in San Francisco! I don't want to live with him! Why didn't you two think about what you were going to do if I wasn't happy?"

"We..I..I don't know, Buddy," I began quietly. "I'm sorry, but you have to go. I told you father you would be going, and if you told him you weren't, well, let's just say it wouldn't be pretty. I'm sorry, Peter, but you can visit on vacations and 3-day weekends.

"It wouldn't be pretty? Why would you want me living with a man like that?!? Wait, don't answer that. I know why. You want me out of the house so I can't ruin things between you and Chandler. Well, you can never make me leave. Even if I'm found." His face was even redder then before. I had never ever in my life seen him so angry. What had I done? And what did he mean by 'Even if I'm found'?

~*~

I don't know where I'm going. I'm just running. Running away from home, kind of. I didn't bring anything with me, except a rubber band ball I have in my pocket. Ruthie and I made it. We followed three paper boys through the neighborhood and picked up every single rubber band they dropped. Sure, we got lost and walked around until Sgt. Michaels found us, but hey, it was fun. And now I have a rubber band ball. Maybe I can throw it at a cat.

I'm very uncomfortable. My shoes are soaked clear through. My wet socks are clinging to my now wet feet. Good thing I'm wearing a waterproof jacket. My drenched jeans are now stuck to my legs. I hate running in wet jeans. Did I hate them more than I hated my mother at the time? Maybe.

Why did I hate my mother? I'd been so busy thinking about how uncomfortable I was that I completely forgot why I was running in the first place. Oh, yeah, now I remember.

Oh, look! A park! A gazebo! Is that what they're called? Oh well. I need to be in there. Here I am, running, running, running. Now I'm inside. It's still cold, but it's dry. Dryness! I love dryness. Dryness...dryness...dryness...

"Kid, you alright?"

Hope you liked. More coming soon. Review, please?