Runaway Twin Read Online Free

for times when I couldn’t buy any, but the backpack was nearly full. I took two PowerBars and an apple from Rita’s cupboard.
    I sat on the bed and tried to think of what else I would need. I put in a small notebook and a pen, in case I needed to write down an address or phone number or directions, and the flashlight that Rita had given me. It doesn’t require batteries; you just wind it up. Rita had one in every room, in case of a power outage.
    I looked around my room. Of all the foster homes I’d had, this room was the best. Before I came, Rita had tried to make it a room that a teenager would like and not a babyish room all pink and with ruffles. The bedspread was two tones of purple, with three big puffy pillows on top. A matching purple Lava lamp perched on the bedside chest. A radio and CD player sat on a small white desk. If Starr could be here, too, I wouldn’t mind staying in this room.
    But Starr wasn’t here and there was no guarantee that Rita would let me stay, even if I didn’t run away. There are never any guarantees.

    I awoke early on Friday and went downstairs to eat breakfast with Rita.
    â€œNot sleeping in today?” Rita said. “Do you have plans?”
    â€œIt’s too nice out to sleep,” I said. “I thought I’d go for a walk.” I didn’t add, To the bus station.
    â€œWould you like to learn to play tennis?” Rita asked. “One of the women in my yoga class gives tennis lessons and she offered to trade me. She’ll come to my class for free, and you and I can take free tennis lessons from her. What do you think?”
    â€œI don’t know anything about tennis,” I said. “I don’t even know how to keep score.”
    â€œNeither do I, but it might be fun to learn.”
    â€œOkay,” I said. I felt like a rat agreeing to tennis lessons when I knew I was not going to be here, but I didn’t know what else to do. If I said no, Rita would ask a bunch of questions about why not. The truth is, tennis lessons sounded great, and if I had planned to stick around I would have wanted them.
    â€œNo cutesy little white skirts, though,” Rita said.
    â€œShorts and T-shirts,” I said, and then quickly changed the subject. “What’s so nutritious about oatmeal?” I asked, knowing that if I could get Rita started on healthy eating, she’d forget about tennis lessons.
    â€œAll whole grains are good for you,” Rita said. “Oatmeal provides all of the B vitamins, plus calcium, iron, and vitamin A. It’s high in fiber and low in fat.” While Rita extolled the benefits of oatmeal, I tuned out.
    Ten minutes later, she waved good-bye and left for her yoga class. I fought an urge to hug her before she left. I couldn’t do anything that might tip her off that today was different from any other day.
    The minute the car pulled out of the garage, I dashed upstairs, put my note on her bed, and grabbed the scissors and hair dye.
    I snipped about three inches off my hair, which put it just below my ears. It looked pretty good on the sides, but the back was uneven. I didn’t have time to try to fix it. It took over half an hour to dye my hair. I put the empty box and the hair clippings in a plastic bag, to throw in a public trash can. If I left them here, Rita would know what I’d done and would change my description when she reported me missing.
    My hair was still damp as I slipped on my backpack. I took one last look around my purple bedroom and left. Maybe Starr and I would come back sometime to visit Rita. I would tell her that of all the foster homes I’d had, this one was the best. Except for the food.

4
    T he bus station was not actually a station. It was a small counter in the back of a drugstore. I’d been there a few days earlier to get a schedule, so I knew exactly where to go to buy my ticket. On my way there, I stuffed the plastic bag in the trash container