Why Did You Run Away?

I booted the kickball as the recess bell rang. It was a great kick. The ball shot through crowds of running kids, eventually clanging against a distant tree lined chain link fence in the far corner of the playground. I ran for it, weaving through the crowds rushing back to class. 

It was cooler in the shadows of the peppercorn trees near the fence.  The the trees whispered and twitched in the wind. Broken branches and crushed peppercorns lay scattered on the ground. 

Looking back the kids drifted off the hot asphalt like steaming water down a drain. My friends disappeared into their hot stuffy classrooms. The last few ran to beat the tardy bell.

I stayed in the far corner, watching it all, sitting on the kick ball, hiding from a gusting San Fernando Valley wind. It was suddenly quiet.  I was alone, away from class. My friends were settling in, sitting up straight, getting out the pencils. 

There was an unlocked gate next to me. I thought how fine it would be to be home, gone from school, free from the hot afternoon classroom. I wanted to walk. Just wander into the breezy afternoon. I opened the gate and began walking. I was too scared to go back and face the questions and consequences. 

Several blocks from school I realized that I didn't really know my way home. All I could do was walk the bus route. Trudging beside busy streets that would eventually lead me to my house.  I walked the whole afternoon away. I looked for the intersections I knew from riding the bus. It was hot and I was very thirsty. The sense of adventure was gone.  

Eventually the long yellow L.A. City School busses began to pass me. Suddenly I realized I was in big trouble. Each time I heard the grunting gears of an oncoming bus I hid behind the Eucalyptus trees that lined the street. Eucalyptus shed piles of thick paper bark around their trucks, it crunched and snapped underfoot. The stringent odor of the trees mixed in the oily bus exhaust each time a bus rumbled by. 

Peeking out I saw my friends on their way home, They were riding easy over the same ground it took so long for me to walk.  I'd be home now if I hadn't bolted. I thought about waiving a bus down for a ride, but I was scared. 

Why did I leave school? I'd be home now if I'd just gone back to class. I’d be bouncing those green leatherette seats, elbowing my buddies or gazing moodily at the traffic and trees. Instead I'm hiding here sinking deeper into big trouble.

Now I realized mom would be wondering where I was. Angry that I hadn't come strait home after getting off the bus. I knew my folks would be mad I was walking home without permission, 

It didn't occur to me that I'd be missed right after recess, that a search would be launched, and terrible phone calls made. The police alerted. 

After the busses passed the walk took forever.  It wasn't so bad when I was ahead of the whole school, questing for home before the herd was let loose. But now I was behind them all, way behind, walking so long it was getting dark. 

The sun set as I stood on the sidewalk in front of my house.  There was a police car in the driveway.  Footsore, hungry, thirsty and worn out, I turned the front door knob and entered the crowded house. The kitchen was full of relatives. I wondered why everyone was here. 

"Dennis! you're safe! Thank God!" The pain, relief and joy in their voices cut through my fatigue and worry. They sounded so scared. Then they were happy to see me. I relaxed, everything would be fine, I wasn't in trouble after all. 

"Where have you been !?" Their relief crested suddenly and a wave of anger broke. Mom and dad shouted simultaneously. "Where have you been, what happened, why....?" 

"Uh, I walked home from school. I just didn't want to stay."

I caught of a couple of well deserved sharp ones on the behind.  In the background a police officer was shaking his head and smiling as he spoke on his radio. Everyone was talking at once. 

My dad had me by the arm," You're never, ever to leave school like this again! Do you understand?" 

My back side hurt as I was hustled into my room. I knew I had it coming. I'd scared them bad. 

The next day at school I was the center of attention in the fourth grade. First thing I had to go to the principal's. He talked at me, while the teacher nodded with a worried smile stuck on her face. I nodded my head a lot and kept silent.  

All the kids gathered around at the first recess. Everybody asked the same questions.

Why'd you do it? Why'd you run away?

The principal, the police, the teachers, the kids, mom and dad, even my little brother John all wanted to know the same thing. 

"Why did you run away?"

How could I make them understand?  I wouldn't admit that I was just scared to be tardy. I couldn't describe the lure of the shade and sound of shaking leaves at the edge of a hot playground. 

How do you tell worried faces that you couldn’t go back inside the airless classroom and just sit still in the second seat in the third row, when the chance to walk away is suddenly there?

I went with the urge to walk away. On impulse, I jumped into an adventure without thinking. 

Eventually the questions stopped.

All I ever said was, “I just didn't feel like going back to class.”