Lisa Mallory, Lisa Mallory. It’s one of those names. The first and the last spill into each other. It seems funny now we met where we did. Sad funny, if that makes any sense. She laughed just like I did and she had more to lose. Some things are just born under a bad sign, I guess.
“Habitual runaway”. That’s what they call it at juvenile hall. I get mad, and I run. Or bored or sad. From juvenile they sent me to Opportunity House. That’s where we met, Lisa Mallory and me. There were counseling sessions three times a day. At the end, we all shouted, opportunity’s free!