Run Away by Laura Salters Page B

confetti. Sam sat with his feet on the ground and his arms resting on his upright knees, running his hands through his fluffy brown hair and facing the ground.
    Kayla kept trying to catch his eye, then wondering why she did.
    “So are we going out tonight?” Russia asked.
    “Nah, Russia, I thought we’d just stay in,” Kayla replied. “Catch up on some sleep. It’s not like it’s our last night in Bangkok, or anything.”
    Russia laughed. “You know, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”
    “Well, I try to cater for my audience.”
    Russia threw a handful of grass at her, though it didn’t even come close to reaching Kayla. Instead it blew back into Dave’s face, who shook violently and sent Russia rolling down the bank. Sam snorted with laughter and said, “You two are so woefully idiotic that I sort of admire you.”
    Dave nodded sincerely. “Thanks, mate. ’Preciate it.”
    F A S T F O R W A R D E I G H T hours and it’d just be Kayla and Sam in the park. They’d left the others in the bar. Dave and Russia were sucking face in one of the booths, Ralph was hitting on an unimpressed Bling, and everyone else was in the middle of the dance floor. Sam had turned to her and said, “I miss the park. Want to go back one last time before we leave?” He didn’t quite have a twinkle in his eye—­the alcohol had stolen off with such sharpness. But his eyes were definitely glazed over with something more than intoxication.
    After one more shot of tequila for luck, they’d hailed a cab to the park entrance and returned to the exact same spot they’d been earlier that day. Just as they’d sat down and gazed awkwardly at each other, not knowing quite what to say, Kayla’s phone rang in her pocket. She picked it up.
    “Hello?”
    “Kayla? Kaaaay-­la?”
    “Yes, hello?”
    “Kayla! It’s your nan! Can you hear me? I don’t think my phone works abroad.”
    “But you aren’t abroad, Nan. I am.” Kayla turned to shoot a disapproving glare at Sam, who was sniggering drunkenly. She was the only one who was allowed to laugh at her nan.
    “Right you are, poppet. Are you having a nice time on your holidays?”
    Kayla concentrated very hard on not slurring. “Yes. Wonderful. Hot. Nice.”
    “Good, that’s good. I’ve not been up to much. Today I went for afternoon tea with Muriel. You know Muriel, she was married to your great-­uncle Bill before the nasty business with his secretary. Anyway, I had a really lovely scone. A fruit one, it was lovely, and a pot of tea. One of those new flavors—­peppermint, I think it was—­then I went for a walk with your mother.” A pause. She waited for Kayla to ask the question. She didn’t. “She’s not doing well, Kayla love. She misses your brother, and now that you’re not here . . .”
    Kayla looked away from Sam. The park was so quiet, she knew he could hear exactly what her nan was saying, though whether he was sober enough to make sense of it was another matter. “Now isn’t a great time, actually, Nan, we’re about to go out, erm, volunteering. Building schools and that. Can we talk another time?” A little white lie wouldn’t hurt. Her eighty-­five-­year-­old grandmother had no concept of time zones, after all. Plus she really wasn’t in the mood for another guilt trip. She’d been subjected to enough of those before she left. Her family couldn’t believe how selfish she was being, jetting off during such a tumultuous time.
    “All right love. Well I hope you’re looking after yourself out there?”
    “I am.” Don’t cry .
    “I’m glad. I love you, sweetheart. I can’t wait for you to come home!”
    “Bye, Nan. Love you too.” Kayla hung up and peered upward through her eyelids to stop the tears prickling behind her pupils. She worried that Sam would ask her what was wrong, then realized he was on the phone too. He was having significantly more trouble forming full words than whoever was on the other end.
    “Okay . . . but mate