The ex-runaway's deep anxieties are poorly understood by a world programmed to pity her. What if your defiant escape – your sneaky, skilful assertion of independence – turns out to be the most ingenious or daring thing you've ever done? Will you discover, like a regretful cheerleader, that you peaked during puberty?
My own breathless journey was from the front door of a house in north Wales, dashing through a narrow country lane under a drizzling sky to catch a bus that would take me to Newcastle, where I scrambled onto a London-bound train. I sometimes tense up even now, afraid I will miss that bus. How many days until the next one! I am ridiculously pleased with myself for getting away with this and should really move on. But whenever things are going badly, I console myself with this accomplishment.
As a child with sketchy ideas about making a run for it, I had few role models until I heard about an older cousin who took to the road at 15. She returned within a year, pregnant. When I heard this cautionary tale, a seed took root: people like us... do that? Since early childhood I had worn my cousin's hand-me-downs, learning to make clumsy adjustments with needle and thread. So it should have surprised nobody when I proudly refashioned her teenage ambition as my own, arming myself against pregnancy (the event that curtailed her journey) and restyling myself as the more competent delinquent.
Continues in issue 19. Order now.
