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Authors: Priscilla Cummings
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box of waterproof matches
The C&O Canal Companion,
a guidebook
sealed in a Ziploc bag
One asthma inhaler, which I held in my hand a full minute before I figured out what it was
Food! Two apricot Clif bars, a package of organic beef jerky, buttermilk pancake mix, a Baggie full of raisins, and one package of dehydrated oriental-style spicy chicken.
Right off, I drank an entire bottle of water without stopping, I was so thirsty. Then I chowed down one of the Clif bars, swallowed a handful of raisins, and bit into one of the beef jerky sticks before stopping to save some of that food for later.
I felt better, but I was still pretty tired from all the running. I folded up my sweatshirt and put it on the bottom of the canoe for a pillow, pulled the truckerâs red hat from the jacket pocket to lay over my face, then stretched out to rest.
Now, I know what a person might be thinking at this point. Like did it bother me I broke out of prison? That I stole a tractor-trailer truck and burned up its brakes? Did I feel bad for ripping off that truckerâs jacket and his knife and his hat and his three bucks? Was I crushed with guilt because I took someoneâs backpack full of food? Then stole and gave their bike a flat tire? Did I ever stop to consider it wasnât very nice to uproot a chained canoe and take it down the river?
The answer is no. The answer is
hell, no
. I did not ever stop to think about whether what I was doing was right or wrong and what the consequences might beâthe if/then thinking stuff. Later on I did, sure. I knew what I did was wrong, but I didnât feel awful about it âcause I had my reasons. No way did I have that
conduct disorder
thing that Miss Laurie talked about. She said if I beat up kids and didnât feel guilty about it that it could be a warning sign. She tried to scare me, I know she did, by saying if I had that disorder Iâd probably spend most of my life in prison and end up getting killed before I was twenty-five years old. But, like I said, I knew I didnât have that disorder. I never beat up a kid who didnât deserve it. And let me point out that I did feel bad when I saw that asthma inhaler thing in the backpack âcause I knew this girl in middle school who needed to suck on hers all the time or else she couldnât breathe.
Yeah, and let me say something else, too. When you are on the run you donât stop to think about right versus wrong, or what will happen if you do
this
or
that
. You sure as heck donât worry if you have conduct disorder. No way! âCause if you have hardened your heart like me and youâre on the run, you donât pussyfoot around! You block everything out and keep moving in a forward direction. Straight on, man, because your life is on the line.
I donât know how else to say it.
You keep moving to survive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
----
PALINDROME
A big
clunk
startled me. I sat up fast and swiped the hat off my face. The canoe was wedged between two big rocks. I grabbed the broom and started to push off, but there was this strange whooshing noise behind me. When I turned around I saw I was about a hundred yards away from going over a dam.
Whoa!
That would not be fun. I dropped the broom and figured Iâd better get out of that canoe fast! Quickly, I took the jackknife and the cash out of my pockets and stashed it all in the little front pocket of the backpack so it wouldnât get wet, then I rolled over the gunwale into the water. I gasped it was so cold! Deep, too. I couldnât touch bottom, which made me nervous.
I got hold of the rope attached to the front of the canoe and wrapped the line around my hand twice so I could pull the canoe free. On my back, one hand holding the rope, I kicked as hard as I could. But BAM! The canoe smashed into another rock.
I realized then that there were so many boulders in the river I could hop from rock to rock pulling the canoe instead of trying to kill myself by
The C&O Canal Companion,
a guidebook
sealed in a Ziploc bag
One asthma inhaler, which I held in my hand a full minute before I figured out what it was
Food! Two apricot Clif bars, a package of organic beef jerky, buttermilk pancake mix, a Baggie full of raisins, and one package of dehydrated oriental-style spicy chicken.
Right off, I drank an entire bottle of water without stopping, I was so thirsty. Then I chowed down one of the Clif bars, swallowed a handful of raisins, and bit into one of the beef jerky sticks before stopping to save some of that food for later.
I felt better, but I was still pretty tired from all the running. I folded up my sweatshirt and put it on the bottom of the canoe for a pillow, pulled the truckerâs red hat from the jacket pocket to lay over my face, then stretched out to rest.
Now, I know what a person might be thinking at this point. Like did it bother me I broke out of prison? That I stole a tractor-trailer truck and burned up its brakes? Did I feel bad for ripping off that truckerâs jacket and his knife and his hat and his three bucks? Was I crushed with guilt because I took someoneâs backpack full of food? Then stole and gave their bike a flat tire? Did I ever stop to consider it wasnât very nice to uproot a chained canoe and take it down the river?
The answer is no. The answer is
hell, no
. I did not ever stop to think about whether what I was doing was right or wrong and what the consequences might beâthe if/then thinking stuff. Later on I did, sure. I knew what I did was wrong, but I didnât feel awful about it âcause I had my reasons. No way did I have that
conduct disorder
thing that Miss Laurie talked about. She said if I beat up kids and didnât feel guilty about it that it could be a warning sign. She tried to scare me, I know she did, by saying if I had that disorder Iâd probably spend most of my life in prison and end up getting killed before I was twenty-five years old. But, like I said, I knew I didnât have that disorder. I never beat up a kid who didnât deserve it. And let me point out that I did feel bad when I saw that asthma inhaler thing in the backpack âcause I knew this girl in middle school who needed to suck on hers all the time or else she couldnât breathe.
Yeah, and let me say something else, too. When you are on the run you donât stop to think about right versus wrong, or what will happen if you do
this
or
that
. You sure as heck donât worry if you have conduct disorder. No way! âCause if you have hardened your heart like me and youâre on the run, you donât pussyfoot around! You block everything out and keep moving in a forward direction. Straight on, man, because your life is on the line.
I donât know how else to say it.
You keep moving to survive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
----
PALINDROME
A big
clunk
startled me. I sat up fast and swiped the hat off my face. The canoe was wedged between two big rocks. I grabbed the broom and started to push off, but there was this strange whooshing noise behind me. When I turned around I saw I was about a hundred yards away from going over a dam.
Whoa!
That would not be fun. I dropped the broom and figured Iâd better get out of that canoe fast! Quickly, I took the jackknife and the cash out of my pockets and stashed it all in the little front pocket of the backpack so it wouldnât get wet, then I rolled over the gunwale into the water. I gasped it was so cold! Deep, too. I couldnât touch bottom, which made me nervous.
I got hold of the rope attached to the front of the canoe and wrapped the line around my hand twice so I could pull the canoe free. On my back, one hand holding the rope, I kicked as hard as I could. But BAM! The canoe smashed into another rock.
I realized then that there were so many boulders in the river I could hop from rock to rock pulling the canoe instead of trying to kill myself by
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