8:38 P.M., Friday, June 19, 2015

Honolulu, HI

Sneaking away this night was no more difficult that it had been any other night. Smuggling out an apple, an orange, and some beef jerky was no more difficult than smuggling marijuana and a bong to the abandoned shed had been, back in April. The misleading notes had been left where they were sure to be found. They had a message about what they were going to do, but of course not what they were actually going to do. If the adults were to notice and break the very simple code, they would be led even further astray.

The kids had also agreed to not return to their old neighborhood, figuring that this would be the first place the police and CPS would look, aside from Honolulu International Airport, and the two kids had no intention of getting anywhere near the airport.

Paula did feel a bit guilty about taking the money, but considering that she had stolen it from Genkins, and that the child molester had been stupid enough to leave it in his wallet, in his pants, and to leave Paula alone with said pants while he went to take a shit, the nine year old girl didn’t feel that bad. Eighty-seven dollars wouldn’t last for long, but if they were careful it could last long enough.

Paula had taken something else from Genkins too, and she was waiting for just the right moment to tell her young lover about that.

“What if he tells somebody about the money?” Paul had asked.

“He won’t dare,” the little girl had assured him. “He’d have to let them know he had me in his office, and exactly how did I get anything out of his pants pocket without him noticing?”

Navigating on the island of Oahu is easy, since one can always orient oneself to the mountains and, usually, to the ocean. In no time at all they were passing Iolani Palace, with the famous statue of King Kamehameha across the street.

“Sun’s going down,” Paula observed.

Paul glanced to the west and then nodded. “Yeah, we’re gonna have to hide out soon. Well, here comes the big test.”

His girlfriend heaved a sigh. “I wish we could disguise ourselves before we catch the bus.”

“Yeah, me too,” the boy agreed. “They won’t know we’re gone ‘till morning, but as soon as they go around asking if anybody’s seen a brown-haired girl and a black-haired boy ... Hey! Let’s trade clothes.”

Paula looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You wanna wear a dress? Oh, because nobody’s gonna ask about a brown-haired boy and a black-haired girl!”

“Exactly,” Paul nodded. “You can call me, um, Lucy, and I’ll call you, er...”

“Bruce,” the little girl suggested.

The plan having been agreed to, the kids quickly found a building to sneak around and the trade was accomplished. Paula gave Paul a few pointers on how to wear a dress, such as sitting with legs together. But now they discovered a problem: while a little boy wearing a sundress and matching hat looks like a girl, a little girl wearing jeans and a T-shirt just looks like a little girl wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The baseball cap helped a little as it hid her nearly shoulder-length hair, but no, Paula Akron still looked like a girl. Paul suggested that they pretend to be sisters, but Paula still wanted to pull off being a boy.

Then she had an idea. “I know one way to make everybody think I’m a boy,” she announced before taking off the shirt. She tucked it into the waistband of the jeans, as she had seen boys do.