1) Hang on, because you have no choice. Hang on as your father’s drinking drags you, your mom, & your younger brothers into the deep. Hang on until the five of you bottom-out in the cramped, converted attic of an old, moldy, three-story brick Victorian on Route 29, right down the street from the literal prison. Befriend the dozens of half-feral cats that rule the first floor. Marvel at the leather-clad Warlock couple who occupy the second, the folks who give you ten bucks to shovel out their truck after a snowstorm.  

2) Recognize the emptiness of Mom’s promise to spirit you kids away to somewhere better, but only after you’ve heard it for the hundredth time. Accept that the only way up and out is a daring escape. Let this simmer for months in your mind before you work up the nerve to act.  

3) Keep an eye on the forecast. You won’t want to travel the 30 miles or so through rain, so look for a clear, mild night. Once you’ve found it, mark the mini-calendar in your Trapper Keeper, and make sure to leave at least 3 or 4 days to prepare.  

4) Discuss prep with Jared and make a mental list of everything you’ll want to take with. Do at least one dry-run to make sure you can fit it all. You’ll probably want all of your baseball cards, the Nintendo and about a dozen games(don’t forget the cords and controllers), your Walkman, fresh batteries, and essential tapes — INXS, Green Day, Soundgarden, R.E.M. Also, enough Little Debbie’s, fruit snacks, and juice boxes to get you through, and probably a change of clothes or two.  

5) Don’t tell ANYONE about the plan. Grandma Fran and Grandpa Jim don’t need to know anything until you get there, and Damon will blab if you tell him. Or worse, he’ll beg to come with, and you know he’s too young. Once you get to Grandma’s, you can figure out how to extract him.  

6) Gather the essentials and bag them the day before. Put the bags in the corner and drape some clothes on top so Mom and Dad won’t notice. Be sure to act natural all day, like nothin’s up.  

7) When night falls, pretend to sleep until Mom, Dad, and Damon are in dreamland — probably around 1am, to be safe. Get dressed quickly but quietly. Get the bags, set your Airwalks on top, and creep down the steps in your socks. Undo the deadbolt like you’re defusing a bomb. This is the crucial moment. Turn the knob carefully, slip out, and close the door ever so gently. You’ll have to leave it unlocked: it’s too risky to try to put the key in and turn it. They’ll be okay: burglars don’t come around here.  

8) Set the bags down to get your sneaks on. Freeze in the dark hallway, open both eyes all the way, hold your breath, and listen intently to the silence when Jared drops a shoe with a thud. After an eternal moment, breathe again and get moving, down the hall and another flight of stairs, out into the cool night air.  

9) Saunter cool as a cucumber, down the gravel driveway to the beat up barnwood garage. Share a moment in the moonlight with Jared: You made it out! Get on your Huffy and find out immediately that this ain’t gonna work: you can’t steer a bicycle too well with a heavy-ass gym bag hanging from each shoulder. Get off the bike, lean it against the oak tree with the basketball rim nailed to it. Fret and puzzle over this conundrum for a minute or two. Say “fuck it” and start walking. Go out the rusty back gate, make a right, and follow the old train tracks the quarter-mile or so to Route 113.  

10) Stay to the edge of the shoulder and out of sight the best you can. Put one foot in front of the other. Pass the time adjusting the stupid, uncomfortable straps and talking with Jared about how much better everything will be when you get to Grandma’s.  

11) Cover an arduous 6 miles before the sun begins to lighten the sky, weekday morning traffic begins to build, and your shoes and socks are completely soaked by the dewy weeds that edge the road.  

12) Feel defeat wash over you when the nondescript Crown Victoria pulls up. Set that aside and muster resolve when the cop gets out and asks, “Where you boys off to so early in the morning?”  

13) Tell him something like, “Just goin’ home after a sleepover.” Lie when he asks where home is. Tell him you can’t recall the address because you just recently moved, but you can point it out to him. Adhere tightly to your story in the face of this policeman’s obvious skepticism.  

14) Put the cumbersome bags in the trunk and get in the back like a criminal. Tell him it’s this street on the left, and this house right here, and then stall for time and delay the inevitable by saying that you don’t use the front door, that you have to go around back.  

15) Pray for divine intervention as the cop raps on the screen door. Thank God for nothing when a sleepy stranger appears and tells the cop what he already knew.  

16) Come clean. Begrudgingly accept that life isn’t fair, that you’re trapped in the dysfunction you were born into. Mope slowly back around front, toward the street, the cruiser and cold fate.  

17) Admit your true address and then ride in somber silence. Reflect on what could have been. Stare out the window at the waking world as you dread the punishment that awaits you.  

18) End up right back where you started. Retrieve the bags from the trunk and trudge like a sad snail up the steps to the porch, through the heavy door, up the first flight, down the dimly-lit, grimy hall. Let the cop pass, and then give prayer another futile try as he knocks on the door you left unlocked just a few hours ago.  

19) Fail to connect the dots when, a few months later, Mom reaches her breaking point and takes you, Jared, and Damon to live with Grandpa Bob. Fail, too, to give Mom the credit she’s due.