The Serpent King(40)

“Which way?”

“Any way you please.”

“I sing all right.”

“Bet you can fix a car up too, if you care to. Things like that run in the blood.”

“Yessir. Lots of things do.”

“You look like him.”

“People tell me that. I’ve just seen pictures. He died before I was born.”

“Yeah,” the old man said softly, nodding, looking off. Then he gazed straight at Dill. “Son? He was a good man. I want you to know that.”

Travis knew the look in the old man’s eyes. It was the same look in Lamar’s eyes when he told the story of the Serpent King. It was the look of a man who had lived long enough to understand grief’s consuming fire. The look of an old man who feared a bad death.

The younger man came out with a dirty cardboard box and set it on the counter. “All right, boys. That’ll be seventy seventy-five with tax and a fourteen-dollar core charge.”

Dill handed over some wadded bills. As they left, Travis stole a backward glance. He saw the old man move toward the younger man and point outside. The younger man was about to hear the story of the Serpent King. Travis would’ve wagered a lot of money on it.




“So it doesn’t bother you that Lydia’s leaving?” Dill asked.

“It does—I’ll miss her—but we always knew this day would come. She’s been talking about getting out of here forever. Think how bummed she’d be if she stayed.”

“You ever think about getting out of here?”

“Where would I go? This is my home.”

“College?”

“Naw. Grades suck. Anyway, I only like to read the stuff I want to read. Not what a professor wants me to read.”

“We still gonna hang out after Lydia’s gone?” Dill asked.

Travis laughed. “Yeah. I mean, I can’t promise we’ll have such creative stuff to do. And you may get outvoted on me bringing my staff places. Especially since it looks like I’ll be driving us anywhere we go.”

“The staff never bugged me the way it does Lydia.”

“You mean it’s been two to one all this time in favor of the staff?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Travis saw his opportunity to confess. “So…remember how Lydia was trying to get my phone at the library?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been texting with this girl named Amelia Cooper, who I met on the Bloodfall forums. She lives in Alabama. Things are going pretty good.”

Dill stared at Travis for a few seconds, then grinned and punched him in the arm. “Man, look at you go. Working it with the ladies.”

Travis giggled and adjusted his cap. “Anyway, I really like her. I think we might end up being more than just friends someday. I hope so. We’re for sure gonna meet up at the Tennessee Renaissance Festival in May. Maybe even sooner. She thinks my staff is cool.”

“She thinks your staff is cool, huh?” Dill said, with an impish lilt.

It took a couple of beats, but Travis got it. He giggled again and punched Dill in the arm. “No dude, not like that. That’s not what I meant. God dang.” He grinned slyly. “Anyway, you ought to be glad to hear that friends can maybe become more.”

Dill’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa, hold up.”

Travis gave Dill an oh-come-on look.

Dill shook his head and looked away. “You’re way off, man.”

Travis gave Dill the same look. “Say it to my face.”

“No. You’re driving.”

Travis laughed and punched Dill in the arm again. “I knew it! How come you never—”

“Because.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to wreck things. And I would.”

“Maybe not.” But actually, yeah, Dill, there’s a good chance you would.

Dill gave Travis an oh-come-on look. “I maybe already did wreck things. Besides, she’s leaving. She wouldn’t want to. I’d be too much of a complication for her plans.”

“You don’t know until you try. Thing about girls is—”

Dill chuckled and punched Travis in the arm again. “?‘Thing about girls,’ huh? Now look who’s an expert.”

“I know a thing or two.”

“Like hell you do. Maybe you know a thing. You don’t know two.”




They pulled up to Dill’s house. The day begged for work outside—cloudy, crisp enough that you needed a long-sleeve shirt but not a jacket. The air smelled of brown grass and clothes drying somewhere.

Travis determined they’d need to get at the starter motor from below. They jacked up the car and put supports under it. Travis wiggled underneath with a set of wrenches.

“Can you help me get the end of my wrench over that top bolt?” Travis asked.

“Sure.” Dill helped him maneuver onto the bolt. “Where’d you learn how to work on cars?”

“My dad.” Travis grunted and broke the bolt free. He ratcheted the wrench to loosen it.

“Was that fun? Working on cars with your dad?”

“Not really.” Travis hoped Dill wouldn’t ask why. He didn’t.