Disclaimer: The characters of the Stephanie Plum series belong to Janet Evanovich and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
WARNING: Adult Content
Pairing: None
Rating: Suitable for people over 13
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Escape
By TT

She stepped into the elementary school and took a deep breath. She relaxed as the smell of floor polish and books filled her nostrils.

Her family didn’t understand her, not really. That made it all that much harder for her. Her mother expected her to be the perfect daughter. Since it fitted her plans for her future, she played that role to a certain extent. There would come a time, most likely starting next year, when she began middle school and took all the advanced classes. It didn’t matter to her that using her intelligence could possibly chase away future husbands. She wasn’t looking for a husband. She was a kid. If it weren’t for the fact that so many of her classmates were already planning their wedding, she wouldn’t believe that ten-year-olds even thought of such things.

Making her way to her homeroom, Angie smiled as she passed several groups of boys and girls. They were all friendly, more or less, but none of these groups were her friends. Some of them, as they had been the previous years, would be nice to her until they realized she wouldn’t let them cheat off her, others just wanted information about her Aunt Stephanie. She had no time for either group.

Stepping into the class, she realized her friends weren’t here yet. That didn’t bother her, though. She walked through the room until she found her assigned seat and settled into the desk’s chair.

She hadn’t always been a brain, or, at least, hadn’t always been seen like that. She hadn’t always been quiet or serious either.

That had started a few years ago when her father came home early one day and disappeared with the baby sitter.

She and Mary Alice had been sent outside to play. They were playing hopscotch on the driveway when Mary Alice tripped and skinned her knee.

Angie helped her sister up, brought her inside and called for her father. When there was no reply, she went upstairs to look for them.

The door to her parent’s bedroom was open just a bit and when she looked in, she saw her father sitting on the side of the bed, his pants off and his legs spread wide. Her baby sitter was kneeling between her father’s legs and it looked like she had his penis in her mouth.

Even years later, Angie felt herself pale at the memory of the sight.

She must have made some noise because her father opened his eyes and spotted her.

Angie could remember running downstairs, grabbing Mary Alice and the first aid kit and dragging her sister outside where she tended to her sister’s wound as best she could.

Later, her father had come out and pulled her aside. He told her that she couldn’t say anything to Mommy about what she saw or bad things could happen to all of them.

She had believed him and kept quiet.

The bad things happened anyway.

After that day, she never felt really comfortable at home, especially when her babysitter and father were in the house together.

School, though, was always the same. It was a safe place. It was a place where she didn’t have to worry about secrets.

So, she studied harder, applied herself, volunteered for every academic team and after school activity she could.

She became a standout pupil.

When the divorce finally came, it didn’t matter how bad it got at home; she still had school.

Her sister had sought refuge in a fantasy world, believing she was a horse because horses didn’t have to worry about divorce, about not being loved, about anything, really. It was a safe place for her little sister, just as school was safe for her.

When they moved to New Jersey, Angie withdrew even more into her schoolwork and learning. The changes were so numerous; she wasn’t sure how to handle them all. She had once asked her mother’s permission to speak to the school counselor. Her mother thought it was a great idea, so they went together. Unfortunately, the whole meeting had been her mother and the counselor talking about whether or not she, Angie, should skip a grade since she was working at such a high level.

In the end, Angie had declined the opportunity, stating she felt being among her peers in age was better for her social development. That had silenced both women, at least for a while.

Later that day, when they got back to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, she had explained that she wanted to talk to the counselor about the divorce and how it made her feel.

Her mother had been horrified. Even now, her mother’s words echoed in her head, Plums don’t do that!

Well, she wasn’t a Plum; she was a little girl who needed to talk to someone who could help her understand. A few times Aunt Stephanie had listened, but she didn’t really understand children all that well. Still, at least her aunt had tried. That was more than her mother did. Her mother only seemed worried about what the neighbors would think.

Once again, school had become her refuge. Learning was her life jacket, her way to survive.

Her teacher last year, Mrs. Hopewell, seemed to know what was going on in Angie’s life and spent time with her. The two had talked, not about Angie’s home situation, but about what the girl wanted from life, what interested her and what she wanted to accomplish.

A strange conversation to have with a nine-year-old, but it had helped tremendously.

Now, in her safe refuge, Angie felt the shield of quiet intelligence she always wore at home begin to loosen and fall.

When Misty and Sarah entered the room, the last remnants of her reserve faded and a smile spread across her face.

Rising from her chair, she went over and hugged her friends, immediately talking a mile a minute as always.

They compared their schedules and squealed in delight when they realized they were in all the same classes.

Moving through the room, the two new arrivals soon found their desks and then the three of them headed back out into the hall to hang out with the other fifth-graders.

Sarah was really excited because this year the art teacher was going to show them how to throw pottery and use oil paints. As Sarah continued to gush in excitement about all of the cool art projects she wanted to do, Misty and Angie shared a smile and an eye roll. They knew they were both equally bad about their favorite topics, but it was really nice to hear Sarah babble again.

A few other students came up to their little group to say hello and catch up about what happened over the summer.

When the bell rang to indicate it was time to go to homeroom, Angie took a moment to reflect on how much she loved school and the freedom it allowed her to be a normal girl.

End

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