The Serpent King(36)

Uh-oh.

She began to wail. Like a tornado siren.

Dill ran over and knelt beside her, rubbing her back. “Oh no! Sweetie! Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhhhh. Where’s your mama?”

She was inconsolable.

Dill picked her up gently, murmuring in her ear. “Hey now, hey, let’s go find Mama, okay? We’re gonna find Mama.”

Then, from the end of the parking lot, frantic shouting. “Hey! Hey! What are doing?! Put her down!”

Dill looked up to see a wild-eyed woman sprinting toward him. He set down the little girl, who was still howling. “Ma’am, is this your—”

“What did you do to her? Why is she crying?” the woman shrieked. She knelt and shook her daughter by the shoulders. “Daisy. Daisy, honey, what’s wrong?”

A crowd had begun to gather. “Go get the store manager,” someone said. “Allison, is everything okay?” someone else called.

Dill’s face burned. “Ma’am, I was just walking by and she was riding the pony and she f—”

The woman stood and got in Dill’s face, radiating wild fury. “You stay away from her. Stay away. I know who you are. You’re Dillard Early’s son. You don’t touch my child. Got it?”

“Allison, I think Daisy—” someone called.

“I don’t care! I don’t care! He does not touch or get near my daughter.”

Mr. McGowan, the store manager, pushed through the crowd. “Okay, okay, everything all right here? Ma’am?”

Her voice still had its brittle razor’s edge. “I go to put the groceries in the car. I leave Daisy on the ride. I turn around and he”—she pointed at Dill, a contemptuous curl in her lip—“is right there and Daisy’s crying.” Daisy continued to wail, as if there were some doubt that her mother was telling the truth.

“She fell,” Dill said. “I was trying—”

Mr. McGowan raised his hand, cutting Dill off. “Dill, why don’t you go back inside. Ma’am, I’m very sorry this happened. I’m sure Dill meant no harm.”

That’s enough. That’s enough of this. Dill’s voice rose with his temperature. “Hang on. I didn’t do anything wrong. I think she just feels guilty because she ran off and let her kid get hurt.”

“How dare you? You can’t talk that way to me. You’ve no right. I’m a good mother.”

“Dill?” Mr. McGowan said sharply. “I will handle this. Please go inside.”

Dill and the woman exchanged final mutually reproachful glares, and he turned and walked inside. He went straight to the dimly lit employee break room, where a sitcom rerun played on the decrepit TV. He slumped at the table and ran his hands through his hair.

After a few minutes, Mr. McGowan came in. Dill started to speak. Mr. McGowan cut him off. “My Lord, Dill! What’s gotten into you, son? You can’t talk to customers that way.”

Way to stand behind your employees, Floyd’s. “Mr. McGowan, I did not do anything wrong. I was helping that little girl. What was I supposed to do? Just let her cry?”

“Well, you could come get me—”

“You know why that woman acted that way.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I do. Allison’s husband, Chip, is a Church of Christ pastor. So she probably wasn’t keen on your dad even before all that mess. People don’t like when other people say they ought to be twirling snakes around to be right with God.”

“Yeah.” Dill didn’t say anything. He just stared straight ahead. “Well, I better get back to work.”

“You got…what…fifteen minutes left on your shift? You can go ahead and go. I’ll clock you out regular.” Mr. McGowan sounded apologetic.

“Okay.” Dill rose from the table without meeting Mr. McGowan’s eyes, removed his green apron, and walked slowly to the library, where he was meeting Lydia and Travis. He felt thoroughly battered.




When Dill got to the library, he saw Lydia and Travis sitting at the table farthest from the ever-vigilant eye of the librarian, Ms. White, who was quick to shush.

Lydia made a grab for Travis’s phone. He giggled and held it out of reach. She stood and leaned over the table, making another grab, almost tipping onto the table as Travis leaned back in his chair, holding the phone still farther from reach. She came around the table, sat next to Travis, and started tickling him. He squinched up, giggling, as she pawed at his phone. Ms. White cast a withering glare in their direction and shushed them.

“Dill, help me,” Lydia said in a loud whisper as Dill walked up and set his backpack on the table.

“No, Dill, help me,” Travis whispered. “We’ve been friends for longer.”

“Yeah, but I keep Dill from looking like a dingus. Come on, Dill. I suspect Travis is texting a secret girlfriend. We need to know about this.”

Dill tried to look happy and play along, but he wasn’t succeeding. And seeing Lydia and Travis, apparently without a care in the world between them, horsing around while he basically got accused of being a child molester, was more than he could handle. “No, I’m good. I need to use the Internet while I have the chance.”

He gave his library card to Ms. White and took a computer. He didn’t actually need to use the Internet so much as he needed to not be near happy people.