Girl on the Run by Abigail Johnson

Author:Abigail Johnson [Johnson, Abigail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2020-10-06T00:00:00+00:00

Two people in scrubs rush past me and, misinterpreting the scene, one of them, a large man, bodily wrestles Malcolm away from my grandfather, while the other one, a slender woman with dense freckles all over her face, rounds on me.

“What are you doing here?” she says.

“Stealing from me!” My grandfather is straining to get past the male orderly who’s trying to calm him down. “They took my daughter’s ring!”

“We didn’t. We—”

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” the woman says.

“I know. I’m sorry.” My short hair whips around my face as I turn back and forth between her and my grandfather. “Is he going to be okay?”

The answer is an obvious no as he takes a swing at the male orderly, who has to lunge out of the way. The momentum from his missed punch sends my grandfather careening to the floor atop the shards of shattered glass.

I see blood as his forearms slice open, and feel my own blood drain from my face. Instinctively, I move to help him, but the woman blocks my way.

“You stay right there.” Never taking her eyes from Malcolm and me, she lifts a bulky radio from her hip and calls for help. The other orderly bends over my grandfather, talking softly to him as he assesses the injuries.

“Who are you?” the woman says.

“We were…just…lost,” I say, stammering a little.

Malcolm has been slowly edging his way around the room, and as soon as he reaches me, he says, “We’ll go.”

“Uh-uh.” The woman’s eyes sweep over my features until they still and widen.

And I know she knows.

Malcolm and I reach for each other’s hands at the same instant.

“What are your names?” she asks, but there’s a new inflection in her voice, one that tells me she doesn’t need the answer.

“Amy,” I say at the same time Malcolm says, “John.”

We start backing up when the woman reaches for her phone instead of her Silver Living–branded radio. She moves slowly, as though she doesn’t want to alarm us.

My grip tightens around Malcolm’s hand, wanting to be wrong about the flicker of recognition I thought I saw in her face.

“This is Shannon Donnelly from Silver Living. I’m supposed to call this number if anyone visits Mr. Jablonski. Well, I’m pretty sure I’m staring at the girl from the photo you just dropped off—”

Malcolm and I make a break for the door at the same time.

“No, the woman isn’t with her. It’s a young black guy. They just ran—”

That’s all we hear before we burst out into the hall and collide with another orderly. All three of us go down. I feel my ankle twist, and have to bite back a cry. Malcolm lands hard on his side and isn’t as successful at holding in a pained groan.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say to the fallen orderly, a slim, prematurely balding man, who looks stunned but not hurt. I grab Malcolm’s arm and pull him to his feet.

Shannon bursts out of the room, nearly tripping over her fallen coworker.

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