Read How I Fly for Free Online

heard if that happens I will also be able to get on Facebook. Which means I can try to contact Ellen.
    My thoughts spin on that thought. Will I? Will I really try to go on her page? Email her? Message her on Facebook…creep on her Instagram to see what she’s been doing all year, or will I just leave it, the past, and her alone? Will she still be listed as “in a relationship” with Camden Campbell? Worse, will she now be with someone else? She should be. That’s what I told her to do…
    Our 5k run leader, the guy who finished first yesterday, thankfully lets us all stop for a water break just as I feel like my throat is closing and I can’t breathe.
    I’m thinking too much about the possibilities this long-awaited day could bring.
    Is it even worth contacting Ellen after what I did and what I texted her? What can she possibly think of me after hearing nothing in all this time? What does Laura think, and Patrick? They must all simply hate me.
    As I aimlessly poke the dewdrops off the fence, I go from almost crying to almost laughing out loud. I have this phobia now that if I even look at her Facebook that I would reactivate my obvious bad-luck streak.
    It’s a streak that seems to appear every single time I try to get to, or speak to, or even text Ellen Foster. The universe spoke against us more than once. I need to listen to it. If today I get the computer permission I’m hoping for, I need to consider my consequences.
    The last time I tried to get to Ellen with that rental car, I was waylaid before I ever got across the British Columbia border. I’d hoped that drive was going to be a simple, two-day road trip back home to Brights Grove. A trip that I’d envisioned would end with my arms wrapped around Ellen while my parents as well as Ellen’s mom could all simply face each other and talk things out. We’d apologize, forgive each other, and hopefully work things out for the better. But instead, I found myself locked up while my parents’ marriage blew up and while the car company decided to press full auto-theft charges against me.
    To make things worse, my own father had also simultaneously pressed charges because he was pissed that I’d stolen his car and his wallet while leaving him high and dry at a hotel. When he couldn’t find me on his own, the jerk had actually filed this report to the Vancouver Police stating I was an at-risk youth. They’d caught up to me by the end of the day using the Find My iPhone app. It was obvious I was only using Dad’s money for gas and food.
    I was so mad and frustrated that they wouldn’t let me go, nor would they let me call Ellen, that I filed a bunch of reports to the police of my own. Reports where I told them everything—that my dad was a horrible parent, that he’d practically kidnapped me and forced me to come to Vancouver against my will in the first place. Then I’d begged and begged not to be released into my dad’s custody because I feared mental and possible physical abuse. Those were harsh accusations, but at the time they were true.
    I begged over and over to be placed with my mom, which would have been fine with the police, but my dad wasn’t in the mood to let me near my mom. So when she finally arrived in town, he’d filed even more reports against me being allowed to be with her—at all—ever.
    Those reports stated that Mom was the abusive one, that he’d brought me all the way to Vancouver to protect me from her, and that she was also dangerous because she was enabling and supporting my bad behavior—like allowing me to get in fights and break an innocent handicapped girl’s legs.
    As much as I’d dreamed of the day my parents would start divorce proceedings, I could never have imagined the catalyst being the simple fact that I’d fallen in love with sweet, kind, amazing Ellen Foster.
    All of us being so angry and upset—plus me being in love and unable to see the girlfriend who was in the hospital and horribly hurt—created a perfect