All Good People Here(16)

At her touch, he blinked, turned to face her, and tightened his grip around hers. “Let’s go.”

Krissy, Billy, and the others ran through the darkness, their footfalls stumbling and drunk. Every once in a while, laughter would bubble up in one of them, then spread to another, until they were all bent over with it. Krissy and Billy fell behind the group, but instead of running to catch up, Krissy tugged his arm, pulling him in a different direction. “This way,” she whispered, and Billy followed obediently through the darkness. Before long, the sound of the other footsteps disappeared.

When they were alone, Krissy and Billy slowed to a walk. “Where are we?” Billy said.

“At the edge of the Dixon farm. We can hide in the cornfield.”

“It’s only May. It won’t be tall enough.”

“It will be if we lie down.” She laughed softly, then added, “Such a farmer.”

Her hand still firmly in his, she led them into the cornfield, then knelt into the calf-high crop and lay on her back in one of the rows. The ground felt cool through her T-shirt. Billy clumsily followed suit, and when he settled, there was nothing more between them than a single row of corn, a few inches of air. They lay there quietly, catching their breath.

“So,” Billy said after a moment. “You’re planning on leaving?”

Krissy turned her head to look at him. “Hm?”

“Earlier, at the grain elevator—you said you were leaving.”

“Oh. Yeah.” That afternoon, when he’d walked in, as she painted her nails behind the cash register, they’d made idle conversation, and she’d mentioned her plans for the end of summer.

“Why?”

“Why?” She laughed. “Why d’you think? We live in Wakarusa, Indiana.”

“Right.” A smile flashed on and off his face. “So…where’re you gonna go?”

“New York. Manhattan. I’m gonna be a Rockette.” Just the thought of it made her feel brighter.

“What’s a Rockette?”

“What’s a Rockette?” she said incredulously. “Only the best dancers in New York. The Rockettes are famous. They’re on TV all the time. Have you really never heard of them?”

Billy shook his head. “But you’re definitely good enough. I still remember how good you danced in the eighth-grade talent show. You were amazing.”

Krissy widened her eyes in surprise, then laughed. “Billy, that was eighth grade. These are, like, big-time dancers.” But even so, the compliment felt warm in her chest. She couldn’t believe he’d remembered her dancing from that long ago. “I’m a lot better than I was in eighth grade. Every penny I’ve ever earned I’ve spent on dance classes. And I don’t go to that rinky-dink little studio downtown for kids. I go to one in South Bend every Tuesday and Thursday night.”

“I didn’t know that.”

She nodded. “Yep.” Then she turned her face back to the stars. “Now I just have to save up enough for a bus ride and I’m gone. Well, enough for a bus ride and an apartment and food and stuff.” Her voice faded, her smile falling away. Thinking about everything it would take to get out of this place never failed to overwhelm her. But she didn’t want to worry about that, not now. She turned back to Billy, propping up the side of her head with her hand. “Anyway,” she continued, making her voice bright again. “I’d ask if you were leaving, but I know you’re not. Everyone knows Billy Jacobs is to inherit and run the family farm.” She said the last words as if she were saying the royal throne.

Billy smiled, but it looked soft and almost sad. “No, yeah, I’m not leaving.”

Krissy’s gaze flicked over his face. “Hey. Eeyore.” She had the urge to reach a hand out, to smooth the line that had formed between his brows—so she did. “Don’t think about that right now.”

Even in the dim light of the moon, Krissy could see his cheeks flush at her touch. And suddenly, she knew that he wanted to kiss her, that he was thinking about doing it. But a few seconds passed and he didn’t. “Well,” he said, “what should I think about?”

“Think about…” Her eyes glanced away from his and back again. She couldn’t quite tell if she wanted to kiss him, but then, what was the harm in taking both their minds off other things? What was the harm in kissing this boy in a field under the moon? “Think about this,” she said, and leaned forward, the leaves of the corn crop brushing against her cheeks. Then she pressed her lips to his.

Krissy couldn’t have known then everything that kiss would lead to. If she had, she never would have done it. If she had, she would have run fast in the opposite direction.



* * *



—

In the police station, sitting across from Detective Townsend on the day her daughter disappeared, the memory seemed surreal to Krissy, as if she and Billy had been mere characters in a scene that night, two different people entirely.

“Would you mind if we took a break?” she said. “I need to use the restroom.”

Though really, she just needed a minute alone. She’d felt the collective weight of so many sets of eyes on her throughout the day, and she wanted one moment where she wasn’t being watched, to relax her shoulders, to exhale.