I’m moving again. Past the rusted cricket nets, over the concrete where greenery bolts through the cracked surface. Without any thought, I duck through the Smokers’ Hole, where Sophia and I came in that night. Outside school property now, my pace slows. The air is immediately cooler, more breathable. My hands fall into my pockets.

I’ve imagined this day a thousand times. The Plan places me at my desk right now, brimming with excitement, the distance to my freedom measured no longer in days or hours but in minutes. It is the day that concludes with sharing a bed with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And waking up next to her tomorrow.

But those plans were made when I could invent a future, could indulge myself with a vision of who I could be. The future has become the now, and I’m still the same old me. I want her more than ever, but it scares the shit out of me.

I brace, ready to run, but stop myself, returning to swaying on the spot. I repeat the cycle four times, never quite getting moving. If I was to run now, I could still wait for Sophia as we’d planned. Maybe she’d understand. We could still get a train out of here; no one could hurt us. Perhaps I could call Gramps. He could call the police. Perhaps, if he told them what’s been happening, they’d believe him. Send someone to guard the house, or move him somewhere safe.

But I’d have failed. Sophia would be running away with a failure. Worse – a bullshitter and a wimp. I’d live forever in the shadow of Kenny, just a kid. Maybe we’d get halfway there and she’d ditch me. And I couldn’t return here. Not ever. And nor could she. That would be my fault. And what about Gramps? What if no one believed him, and the Mackies came for him?

I should be thinking about tonight with Sophia. So why, instead, am I thinking of Amit? Why am I imagining a frame of snooker as the smell of sprinkler on lawn fills the cabin in the late evening. I know that life has gone. I know it, but for some reason there’s a part of me that refuses to feel it.

What if we didn’t have to leave right now? What if we just hid for a while? We could work out a new plan. Something in the future, not in the now. Something I’d be ready for, bold enough for.

They’re not in the classroom. This is not my choice. I can’t do anything about it.