The Serpent King(27)

“I had no idea those books meant that much to you, Travis,” Lydia murmured. “Now I feel bad about making all those Bloodfall jokes.”

“Does that mean you’ll read them?”

“No.”

“They’re amazing. I forget about everything I’m not good at and everyone I’m not when I read them. They make me feel brave.”

“Do we know how to party on a Friday night or what?” Lydia said.

“Hey, Lydia, maybe after you move away, when you come back to visit, we can all come here and add stuff to the Column,” Dill said. “If that wouldn’t be too boring.”

“Totally. That doesn’t sound at all boring.” Lydia took a picture of what Travis wrote. “Okay, Dill. Show us yours.”

They stepped around to the side of the Column.

Dill shined the flashlight on his writing. “I said I’d write some of my song lyrics, but I changed my mind and wrote some of my favorite stuff.”

Moonlight. Calm after thunderstorm. Scarecrows. Dusty bibles. Abandoned houses. Fireflies. Sunlight through dust. Fallen leaves. Churchyard cemetery. Gray autumn sky. River levee. Gravel road. Wind chimes. Wood smoke. Train whistle on winter night. Kudzu on telephone pole. Hymnal falling apart. White crosses by highway. Cicada hum. Shadows. Sparrows. Rust. Railroad crossing lights through fog. Crickets. Dance of leaves in wind. Decaying barn. Field after harvest. Clouds covering moon. Quiet dusk. Lightning. Heartbeats.



Lydia took a picture. “I love these things too, and I had no idea until I saw this.”

“I don’t think these’ll last thirty-two thousand years,” Travis said, “but maybe they’ll outlive us, right?”

Lydia showed them the Dolly Parton quotes she’d written on the Column.


Find out who you are and do it on purpose.

We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails.

If you don’t like the road you’re walking, start paving another one.



“Future generations need the counsel of this prophetess,” she explained.

Then they lay for a while on their backs, gazing into the starry expanse through the railroad tracks, listening to the dark river below. This might be it, Dill thought. This might be the best your life ever is. This moment. Right now.

“I read somewhere that a lot of the stars we see don’t exist anymore. They’ve already died and it’s taken millions of years for their light to reach Earth,” Dill said.

“That wouldn’t be a bad way to die,” Lydia said. “Giving off light for millions of years after you’re gone.”





Her mom had gone to bed when she got home. Her dad was wearing his bathrobe, sitting on the couch, eating a big bowl of popcorn and watching TV.

“Hello, princess,” he said, as she entered the living room after washing her hands in the hall bathroom. “Have fun tonight?”

“Friday-night Forrestville fun. It’s an alliterative party.” She pulled off her hiking boots, sat on the couch, and snuggled up to her dad, putting her head on his shoulder.

He rested his head on top of hers. “You smell like summer night.”

She pulled a piece of her hair to her nose. “The scented candles that are supposed to smell like summer night never smell this way. They always smell like scary-guy cologne.” She reached into his popcorn bowl and grabbed a handful.

“I like your friends. They’re good guys. You’ve made smart choices.”

“They are. And don’t sound so surprised about me making smart choices.”

“You’re lucky to have them. Good friends in high school aren’t a given.”

“Yeah, especially around here.”

“Around anywhere. This hasn’t been such a bad place to grow up, has it?”

Lydia raised her head off her dad’s shoulder and gave him a solemn stare. “You did not just seriously ask me that in good faith.”

“What? Sure I did. This is a nice place. It’s quiet, safe. The area is beautiful. I grew up here and your mother grew up a couple of counties from here. Taking over Grandpa’s practice reduced the stress our family would’ve experienced if I’d had to start my own from scratch.”

“It sucks here. People are dumb and racist and homophobic. I don’t have a single female friend at school since Heidi left.”

Her dad picked up the remote control and muted the TV. “Hang on. You’d never have made friends with Dill and Travis if we didn’t live here. Let me ask you this: do you like who you are?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really think living here hasn’t had a big hand in who you’ve turned out to be? Do you think you’d have had the same drive to create Dollywould if we’d laid the world out for you at your doorstep?”

“Are you seriously saying that living in this shitty town was part of some grand strategy to make me a go-getter?”

“That was part of it. Yes.”

Lydia reached out and smacked her dad on the forehead, as if swatting a mosquito.

He winced and pulled away. “Look, do you think there’s anywhere—any city, any high school—where someone as smart and talented as you can waltz in and do your thing and nobody will try to tear you down because they feel inferior to you?”