Sorta Like a Rock Star(70)

I walk out of the visitor’s room, and the woman guard escorts me past security, through the metal detector, and out of the prison.

Surprisingly, I’m feeling a little better having faced my mother’s killer.

He has not defeated me—and if a man like him can’t beat me, I know nothing will.

There is life all around me.

Sky.

Clouds.

Trees.

Endless air.

Birds flying overhead.

There is a good bearded boy in a Volvo waiting for me.

All this, right now, is mine to experience.

I need to drink it up for Mom, for all of those who cannot—and for me too.

I’m only eighteen.

These are the days.

I’m still a kid if I want to be.

And I do.

Bearded Ty gets out of the car when he sees me walking across the parking lot, but he doesn’t say anything. His face expresses concern. I can tell he cares about me—deeply. And I can tell he is still a kid too—in spite of the hideous friendship beard.

“I did what I had to do,” I tell him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to open your presents?” I ask.

“Presents?”

“For driving me today.”

“I’m not sure this is the appropriate—”

“We’re opening your presents. Get in the car.”

We get into his Volvo station wagon.

“Here’s present number one,” I say and then hand him a small but heavy wrap job.

“This is sort of weird,” Ty says.

“What?”

“Opening presents in the parking lot of a maximum security prison.”

“We’re celebrating our freedom. We’re celebrating our ability to be kids when everything is trying to take that away from us. It’s a choice, Ty. We can do whatever we want.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, just open it already. You’re going to like this present. I promise.”

Ty rips off the wrapping paper. “Batteries?”

“Open ’em up. You’ll only need two.”

“For what?”

“For present number two.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Ty gets two batteries ready and then opens his second present.

“An electric razor,” he says.

I grab the box, open it up, and put the batteries into the electric razor.

I flick it on and it makes a buzzing noise.

BZZZZZZZ.

I look Ty in the eyes and I say, “I think it’s time to shave off that awful beard.”

“I’m not shaving until you agree to go to Friendly’s with The Five,” he says, and then laughs sorta strangely, as if he’s no longer sure about his plan. “Remember?”

But then suddenly, I want to look into his eyes—I want to know that there is something inside of Ty. Something human. The opposite of what I saw while looking through the Plexiglas—gazing into the eyes of a monster.

I search those brown orbs.

They are innocent.

They are the color of bark.

They are alive.

They are boyish.

They are full of possibility.

They are full of hope.

They are gorgeous.

They are beautiful.

They give me fuel—they make my chest feel so warm.

“Well, then, we’ll go to Friendly’s,” I say. “Just as soon as we pick up The Five. You have my word. So this is the part where I get to shave off your beard.”

BZZZZZZZZ! says the electric razor “You have to trim it with scissors first,” Ty says.

So I show him the scissors that came with the electric razor.

“You’re gonna do it in my car? Right here?”

“Yep,” I say.

He swallows once, and then says, “Please, Amber. Not in my sweet ride.”

So we step out of the car and I carefully snip Ty’s beard down to the skin with scissors—so much hair falls to the asphalt of the maximum-security prison parking lot.

Carefully—I shave Ty’s face with the battery-operated electric razor.

A boy emerges from underneath all that facial hair.

“How’s it feel to be clean-shaven?” I ask when we are back in the Volvo.

“The people at the bank are going to be pleased,” Ty says. “My parents will probably write you a thank-you note.”





Ty and I eat a late lunch at McDonald’s—cheeseburgers, salty fries, milk shakes—and then we ride the rest of the way home from the maximum-security prison listening to pop music on the radio, and when a good song comes on that we both know, we sing it loudly.

When we get back to Childress, we stop by Chad’s and Jared’s house.

“You shaved the beard!” Jared says. “Does that mean we’re going to Friendly’s?”

When I nod, the Brothers Fox smile and Jared carries Chad into the backseat.

We pick up Ricky just as Donna is getting home from work.

In the kitchen, Ricky says, “Ty Hendrix does not have a beard. Yes. Where did his beard go?”