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Run (part 2)

This part is especially for my friends in the UK. Thank you for dropping in.

The supermarket car park was a great place to exercise. Only, recently it had become the playground of some gang. They were scratching the few cars still there in the evenings or vandalising the coke machines. I'd seen them goading or threatening others into playing
along. But this kind of working off aggression wasn't my style, so I stayed away. I'd rather
be alone than get caught with them. The trouble at home was enough, I didn't need any more.

Our street was quiet with only a few cars passing, and it had a gentle slope - perfect for my
needs. When I put on my trainers, the salvoes were still flying in the dining room. Suddenly I
heard Mum shout,

"I don't care. I'm sick of it! I want a divorce."

There was instant silence. I caught my breath. It couldn't be true. I'd misheard. No doubt.
Any second now Dad would laugh out, then get up and hug her and everything would be over
like a bad dream.

The silence wore on. This was the longest and scariest ceasefire ever. Finally, I heard Dad
sigh, "Perhaps it would be best."

No! They couldn't give up like that! What about Jan and me? They hadn't even asked us.
Without really knowing what I was doing, I ran out into the street. I needed to think, needed
to breathe.

Slowly rolling along, letting gravity take care of acceleration, I realised that what I really
needed was to talk to a friend; somebody who had been there. Kevin was the first who sprang
to mind. We had stuck together for most of our schooldays and our free time. Almost like
blood brothers. After his parents' divorce, he had been forced to move to Nottingham with his
Mum. We had sworn to keep in touch on Facebook but you know how it goes. Still, I was sure
he'd help. But how get to Nottingham?
(To be continued)