Gone South

This consisted of waiting patiently for her parents to fall asleep, crawling out her bedroom window, pushing the family car down the driveway and driving off into the night. This was always an adventure in itself, as neither one of us knew how to drive.

Christine quickly got the hang of it, at least enough to get us where we were going - over to Chuck's place, which was always strangely unencumbered by parental supervision.

Christine was 15, & Chuck was just 12. Despite the age difference, they were a hot & heavy couple. Usually, I just hung around in the house, enjoying the feeling of being somewhere other than the place I was supposed to be, while Chuck & Christine performed adolescent attempts at sex in the backroom of Chuck's trailer.

These escapades continued quietly enough for several months, until one night we arrived at Chuck's to find Butch passed out on the floor of the singlewide. I knew who he was from middle school. He was one grade ahead, and well known as a troublemaker/ drugdoer/ fightcauser among kids & law enforcement. While he was in eighth grade, he had knocked the principal unconscious with a blow to the head from the cast on his arm, itself a result of a fight with a friend turned drug informant. I was terrified & wildly attracted to him at the same time.

We got into the car & followed Butch up the road to his house so he could drop off his motorcycle. He then insisted on driving the car & met with little resistance.

He suggested we go get some beer. Christine & I agreed halfheartedly, knowing that we were just a bunch of kids in a very small Southern town with no money or IDs & our chances were slim. Butch pulled the car over by the side of the road near a house and said he would be right back. He was, toting a whole case of stolen cold beer - the first of what would be an evening of new-found vices.

Christine & I exchanged glances - a whole silent debate taking place in one second. But only a half-second was needed to know the answer: yes, we would drink. God, there wasn't much we wouldn't agree to. We felt so adult, so wild, so free. We were just about as far from all these things as we could possibly be.

The evening continued in a blur of forbidden beer, cigarettes & eventually, drugs. Butch's father was an air conditioner repairman, so he had a large supply of freon. We drove over and picked some up from the shed out back of the house.

Though trying desperately to act cool & knowledgeable, at 13 I was in fact inexperienced in the drug arena. My entire smoking experience had consisted of one Winston cigarette nervously smoked out behind the Woolco at the mall. I knew Christine was just as nervous as I was, but neither of us were going to show it.

I was pretty amazed when Chuck & Butch didn't get wildly hysterical after inhaling the freon. I had been taught again & again that drugs make you crazy & miserable, and then they kill you.

Characters

Me - 13 years old, filled with a false sense of worldliness, scared of & very attracted to Butch, worshipful of Christine.

Christine - 15 years old, 5" tall, big tits, the oldest of the crowd. In 8th grade with me, due to failing 2nd grade twice. Adopted at birth. Been in Trinity 3 years. Very smart, slightly cynical. Big tortoise frame glasses.

Butch - 14 years old, real name Norman, the leader of the group due to his domineering, criminal personality. A Bad Boy in every sense of the word. Gorgeous and mysterious to an innocent babe like me. Actually not all that bright. Later was to drive his truck into a tree & die at the age of 17, after several other serious accidents. Suicide?

Chuck - 12 years old. Physically mature, would father 2 children by the age of 14. An amateur criminal from a family of white trash. Very sweet kid who worships Butch. Too good to ever make it big as a Bad Boy, much less a criminal. Snakebit and nearly dies at 16.

When I finally took that first hit of our makeshift drug, I remember thinking, "Oh, this is why people do drugs!" It all made sense suddenly as it can only when your brain is slowly disintegrating.

Later that night Butch got ahold of some pot so we tried that too.

After several hours, we were all high as hell, and having a great time cruising, Christine & Chuck thrashing on the backseat, me with Butch's arm around my shoulders as I sat right up next to him, giddy with the thought of my parents getting a sudden flash of me, the good little Catholic student, flying along in an (almost) stolen car with Butch (gasp, shudder), a beer in one hand, cigarette in the other.

It was about 2:30 in the morning on Sunday, & Butch was complaining about a court date he had on Monday. He was worried that he would be sent away to the reform school at Mariana.

"We could just haul ass," he said, "and never come back."

There was a silence, as each of us considered our various disintegrating home lives. Chuck's consisted of living in mainstream poverty with a mostly absent mother and Kitty, his pregnant 16-year-old sister. The first nasty chapters in my parents impending divorce were being written, and I hated the conformity required at my new school. Christine was simply 15, too smart for her parents and classmates, and my best friend. Butch's home life was fairly average, lower-class. However, this latest altercation with the Law was not his first, and would almost surely see him doing time in juvie.

I looked at Christine & saw indecision in her eyes. However, I knew what I wanted: action, adventure, trouble - but mostly, out. Out of the turmoil in my home, out of the terrifying dullness of that small Bible-Belt town.

"Yeah," I echoed. "Never come back."

We drove around some more, but the decision to go was easily made. Christine & I insisted on going back by her house to get some teenage essentials - clothes, make-up, blow-dryer. Christine also retrieved something else that greatly enhanced our "escape." In a lockbox in her room were $1200 worth of savings bonds, accumulated throughout her whole life, gifts from her grandparents. Her college money. (Christine is now a hairdresser at the JC Penney's. She also does nails.)

So we drove about 15 miles outside town to a KOA campground. We didn't have any money for a campsite so we just drove off into the woods, parked, & crashed out in the car.

When we awoke the next morning in the pouring rain, we were horrified at what we had done. The repercussions we surely faced outweighed any notions of returning home. The decision had been made for us. We had to run.

In truth, we were not even discovered missing until 1:30 in the afternoon, when my parents came to pick me up at Christine's. Christine's parents told them we were still asleep. "Those darn girls, probably up all night playing records or something."

My parents told her to wake us up, and that's how they found out we were gone.

Running turned out to be easier said than done. Our car was stuck in the mud. We tried everything in our limited knowledge to get it unstuck. The boys jacked it up and put a big stick under the wheel, so they could just "ride out of it."

Butch tried to drive us out, while Christine, Chuck & I pushed. The tire came peeling off the wheel & flew right by my head. I felt the wind from it. Christine started crying. I headed for the freon.

Once our heads were sufficiently clouded, we were able to replace the tire and get out of there. We faced several problems. One, no money. The banks were closed because it was Sunday. Two. We had to stay out of sight, sure as we were that the cops were hot on our trail.

So we hung out in a park until night, when we went to Kyle's house. One of my best friends since we were toddlers, I knew I could trust him. knocked on his window to wake him. I quickly explained our situation, & told him we needed money. He only had a couple of dollars, but he gave me all he had, including his lucky silver dollar, which he had been holding onto for years. Kyle was upset, but told me to have fun.

We snuck back into Butch's shack for two more full tanks to keep us supplied & fried, and spent our money on food.

We spent the night in the car again in some wooded area, drinking our now-warm beer, huffing freon & smoking pot.

The plan was to wait until the banks opened and cash in some of Christine's bonds, then haul ass out of town.

As we were taking the interstate from the north side of town to the east side, where most of the banks were, we ran out of gas. We sat there on the side of the road terrified that the cops or someone we knew would spot us and our charade would end.

We had a CB in the car and used that to contact a friendly trucker who said he would help. He stopped & took in the situation. We told him we had no money but he said he would get us some gas anyway. There was a long debate about who should go with him. Butch said he wouldn't leave me alone (meaning without him) and Chuck was too young. So Christine went. It seemed like days later when they returned bearing precious fuel.

The next day was President's Day, and we could only find one bank open. Christine tried to fix herself up as good as possible, but she still looked pretty rough. The bank would only cash one bond, for about fifty-three dollars, but at least that was enough to get us out of town.

We found out later that all the local banks had been informed of our situation and the teller had called the sheriff as soon as we left. But he was too slow to respond; we were long gone, headed south, still with no idea where we were going.

We staggered around north & central Florida for about two more days, stopping at a JC Penney's somewhere to get clothes with the credit card Christine had stolen from her parents. The boys had not thought to bring clothes, and we all needed to change.

Christine & I got so carried away with the idea of our "new wardrobes" that we ran the card up to the limit, and came back to the car with $300 worth of girls' jeans, shirts & bathing suits, and one three-pack of jockey shorts for the guys.