Chapter 4

The slap seemed to break something in Mark, or perhaps just expose the cracks that were already there.

A week later, Mark and Tiffany "ran away."

It was laughably dramatic. They left cliché notes for their parents about true love and not being understood.

The school buzzed with the news. Some girls sighed dreamily about their "epic romance."

I just felt a grim sort of satisfaction. Their self-destruction was accelerating.

Principal Thompson was furious. He called the police, reported them as missing minors, though Tiffany was already seventeen and nearing eighteen.

They weren' t hard to find.

A week after their grand disappearance, the police picked them up at a rundown motel on the outskirts of Northwood.

The tip came from Tiffany' s father, Mr. Vance.

I remembered him from my past life – a sleazy, opportunistic man who saw Tiffany as his meal ticket. He was a small-time con artist with a gambling problem.

Apparently, Mr. Vance had been apoplectic. His "investment" in Tiffany, her future with a supposedly successful Mark, was being squandered in a fleabag motel.

He' d gone to the motel himself before calling the cops.

And he' d taken his anger out on Mark.

The story pieced together from gossip was ugly. Mr. Vance, enraged that Tiffany was "damaged goods" and that Mark was clearly not the golden boy he' d been led to believe, had beaten Mark severely.

Broken leg. That' s what the rumors said.

When the police arrived, Mark was a mess, and Tiffany was hysterical.

The romantic elopement ended with Mark in an ambulance and Tiffany being escorted home by a grim-faced officer, Mr. Vance shouting threats at Mark' s retreating form.

The pressure on me lessened. With Mark out of commission, the daily provocations ceased.

I almost felt a sliver of pity for him. Almost.

Then I remembered the cold satisfaction in his eyes as I failed that fitness test, the years of drudgery he condemned me to.

No, no pity. Only resolve.