You Don’t Know Me

“When you see me, please pretend like you don’t know me.  You don’t know me, you don’t know me,” I thought.  I closed my mouth and hoped that I didn’t actually say that out loud.  Nobody around me seemed startled so maybe I did just think it to myself. 

Mr. Garcia, my Calculus teacher, had just entered the small restaurant on the outskirts of Santa Fe and I was just hoping he wouldn’t see me.  If he did or if he did anything that made it seem like he knew me, everything would be ruined.  I was trying to make my escape and if anyone knew I was here and if the staff of the restaurant realized my name wasn’t Danielle, everything would be over. 

I wasn’t really running away, but I also wasn’t staying home.  I was leaving for my new life and since I was eighteen, my parents couldn’t do much about it.  I think.  I had saved quite a bit of money before I left, but I knew I could never have enough.  The owner had offered to pay me in cash so he could get around the taxes and I just didn’t want to be followed. 

Mr. Garcia saw me and at first balked.  I wasn’t sure if he was surprised to see me or not.  But as he reached for his phone, I grabbed my bag and ran out the back door.  I had to run hard.  And fast.  He was calling my uncle. 


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