All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(60)

Sitting on that bench in the frosty October morning, with the sunlight rising like a paper fan behind the Bighorns, I closed my eyes and I was back in Oklahoma. Back in Gage’s room, ripping the drawers out of the dresser, shouting every obscene thing I could think of because Amia had told me she’d seen Gage making out with a boy, and instead of asking Gage, instead of trying to find out if it was even true, I’d gone into the worst rage I’d ever felt. I still remembered the feeling, like someone had cut a perfectly round hole in my chest and everything was spilling out, when I found the pictures: Gage and Calon—his name had been Calon, I was sure—kissing and laughing and cuddling and smiling. The smiling. That was what I couldn’t forget. How happy Gage had looked.

And then I’d broken his arm. And then I’d beaten him unconscious. And then, and then, and then, until I was standing in front of a judge and listening to a social worker catalogue every cut, every burn, every bruise they’d found on me. It was painful to hear other people talk about it, but the shame was worse than the pain. I might as well have stripped naked, right there in court. Extenuating circumstances. Unsuitable home life. Either juvie or— Or Vehpese.

And now it was happening again, and there wasn’t another Vehpese for me to go to. And Austin would know the truth about me, and he’d leave. After all, I couldn’t blame him. Who would want to stay with a cowardly piece of shit like me? I was the one who let the beating and the burning and the cutting happen to me. Hell, I was doing some of the cutting myself.

Ragged breaths couldn’t fill my lungs, and I surged dizzily to my feet. When I realized where I was, I tried to laugh, but the world spun around me and I almost fell. It was the same goddamn park where I’d sat with Emmett last night. Of course it was. Well, I couldn’t stay here. Staggering back onto the gravel shoulder, I marched west. I needed a plan, but all I could do was stay on my feet and lurch forward, because I couldn’t stay here. If I stayed here, it was all going to happen again, and better to run away, better to die cold and exposed and alone, than let it happen again.

I don’t know how long I walked. The blue shadows hadn’t shifted much, and the stubbly grass and sage of the high plains had only barely begun to open up around me when the brown Ford squeaked to a halt next to me, idling in the middle of the highway.

Becca, in an enormous, fuzzy pink sweatshirt and bedazzled pink sweatpants, missing her trademark silver eyeshadow and with her peroxide-blond hair flattened from sleeping on it, reached across the seat to open the door.

“How far are you going?”

I kept walking. The Ford limped alongside me, making an awful grinding noise as it did. Becca didn’t say anything else, and I kept my gaze fixed resolutely ahead. To my surprise, as the Ford continued to inch forward, Becca popped out of her seat and trotted around the car to pace alongside me. The car, now driverless, continued to grind along the highway. We walked for thirty seconds, then for a minute, and then for two, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“God damn it, Becca. This is ridiculous. Get in the car.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. It’s a highway. Somebody’s going to come roaring along at ninety miles an hour and slam right into that piece of shit, and they’ll probably kill both of us in the process.”

Becca cocked her head, scanned both directions along the highway, and said, “Boy, I hope not.”

“I know Sara called you, so you can just turn around and go home.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

She shivered, rubbing her arms through the fuzzy sweatshirt. “It’s freezing. Can we talk about this in the car?”

“Nice try.”

“Oh for the love of—Vie, I’m not kidnapping you. Get in the car. Let’s talk while we drive. If you want, I’ll take you to Billings, or Salt Lake City, or wherever you want.”

I stared at the car, still squealing along the empty highway, and then again at her. It might be a trap. It probably was a trap. But I was cold, and I was afraid, and I didn’t even know where this highway went.

Becca must have seen the indecision in my face, because she hauled on my arm. “Come on.”

I let her load me into the car, and a moment later we were speeding along the highway with the heater thawing me out, hair by frozen hair. The grinding and clanking of the front driver’s wheel had grown worse since the last time I’d been in the car. Now it had reached a steady metallic groan so loud that it drowned out anything else. Neither of us spoke for the first few miles, and my cheeks heated as our silence dragged on. Becca fumbled in the pockets of her bedazzled sweatpants, drawing out a packet of cigarettes and her cell phone. She tossed the phone in my lap and drew a cigarette from the pack.

“What am I doing with this?” I shouted over the car’s grinding.

“You’re looking at the living nightmare I’m going to have to endure.” Speaking with her jaw clenched as she held the cigarette in place, she added, “Jesus, Vie Eliot. The things I’ll do for you.”

I hesitated and then tapped the screen. A text conversation appeared, although it wasn’t really a conversation. All of the texts except one were from Austin, and they had arrived in a constant stream over the last half an hour.

Becca.

BECCA.

Did you find him?