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I never really felt like anybody special. Except for the time I spent with Pamela and Peter. But if being special meant I couldn't be me then I didn't want it. I'd rather be lonely old me than someone's special project, poked and prodded into the mold they'd made for me.

Now, driving this car, rushing with my best friends in all the world through the night, I felt a sense of freedom. It was as if we had all thrown off the chains of who we were and what people tried to make us into and had finally become free. As recently as a few hours ago, we were better known by the numbers on our files. We were, as Crystal often said, "in the system," labeled and described by some official, our little histories summarized in a few pages that included biological facts about our blood type, our eye color, our inoculations.

None of that mattered to us now. We were launched, sailing into space, searching for a new planet, a new place to call home. We would soon make our own histories, fill our own files. For the first time, I felt like I was in control of my destiny.

"Watch your speed," Crystal said. "Even at this hour, there could be a radar trap, and we can't get pulled over, Brooke."

"I know," I said and glanced down at the speedometer. The truth was I hadn't been watching it. I had been daydreaming and I was going too fast. Good old Crystal, I thought, always thinking

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Butterfly had slumped down in her seat, her head to one side, her eyes closed. She looked like a rag doll, so vulnerable, so dependent. I think all three of us saw something of ourselves in Butterfly and that was why we were so protective of her.

The radio droned on. Miles and miles of highway rolled out before us and then disappeared into the darkness behind us. Occasionally, another vehicle drew closer and then passed us. I held the wheel steady. We were making good time. I felt like the pilot of a space ship, launched and moving closer and closer toward that point when we would break out of the earth's gravity. Soon, the past's strong grip on us would be broken and we wouldn't look back.

"Maybe we ought to check your map now, Crystal," I suggested as we left more familiar places.

Crystal unfolded the map and found the switch for the light in the rear, but it didn't work. She leaned forward to catch some of the illumination from the front.

"We could either get onto the New York Thruway or take Route Six to the Palisades Parkway and find the exit for 1-95," she explained.

"Which is better?" I asked.

"The fewer people who see us and can trace us, the better off we are," she concluded. "Avoid toll booths. Take route six. The exit should be coming up shortly."

We watched for it and when we saw the signs, I slowed down, made the turns and followed the highway.

"You're really doing very good," Raven said, impressed. "I should have taken drivers' education, too."

It would have been a great help to have another driver, I thought.

Crystal sat back and yawned.

"If Megan didn't wake anyone, they still don't know we're gone," she said after a long moment.

I glanced at the clock on the dash. It was nearly three-thirty in the morning. Gordon, his brain soaked in whiskey, lay dumb in his bed. Everyone else slept quietly. In a few hours, they would all be surprised.

Raven rested her head against the window. The exhaustion we had staved off with our excitement was settling in our limbs, in our eyes.

"Are we going to drive all night?" Crystal asked me.

"It's probably a good idea to make as much distance as possible, don't you think?"

"Of course, but are you all right? You don't want to fall asleep at the wheel."

"I'm fine," I said even though my eyelids wanted to slide closed like elevator doors. I

concentrated on keeping them wide open. The radio station had become all talk. "Find some music again, Raven," I asked. "Something lively, okay?"

She turned the dial until she found some upbeat sounds and sat back again.

We drove on. I should have kept up the conversation. Butterfly was in a deep sleep by now and Crystal, despite her efforts, permitted her eyes to close one time too many and drifted off as well. Raven, emotionally and physically exhausted, stopped talking and let her head lay back. I suddenly realized I was the only one awake. I started to count, to sing to myself, to move with the music, anything to keep myself alert, but I went into a daydream at the wrong time and suddenly blinked and saw a sign that said: GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE.

"Crystal? Crystal!" I cried.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep. Where are we?"

"Are we supposed to go over the George Washington Bridge?" I asked. The toll booth was directly in front of me. There was no way to avoid it.

"No, No!" she cried. "Oh Brooke, you missed the exit."