Run(28)

“And didn’t you get a haircut, too, Christy? I think that’s also a sin, if I recall,” I said.

“Agnes!”

“And we’ve talked a whole lot about premarital sex being a sin, but just the other day, you—”

“That’s it. Agnes Atwood, get out of my classroom,” Miss Kelly demanded.

“I’m just pointing out what the Bible says. If we’re gonna talk about sinners …”

I glanced back at Christy, and I was surprised to realize that she wasn’t scowling anymore. Her head was down, and I couldn’t see her face. I did, however, hear a soft sniff.

“Go sit in the sanctuary until services start,” Miss Kelly said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I stood up, unfolded my cane, and headed for the door, regret and guilt already starting to seep through and put a damper on that meanness I’d reveled in a second before.

“You know, Agnes,” Christy said, and I thought I heard tears in her voice. “You have fun with Bo Dickinson. Y’all might be perfect for each other.”





“I think maybe I’m starting to like it,” Agnes says, running her fingers through her short hair.

I rinse my toothbrush and put it back in the plastic bag I’d packed it in. I move aside and Agnes steps in front of the sink, wetting the washrag she’d been given to wash her face. In the next room, I can hear Colt on the phone, but with the water running, I can’t make out a word he’s saying.

I pour some dog food into a bowl Colt had lent me and set it on the floor. Utah lunges at it, tail wagging. She don’t know that it’s the last of the food. That I’d been too anxious about getting out of the trailer the other night to think about how much I was packing.

“I think maybe it makes me look kinda badass.” She scrubs the rag along her nose and forehead. “Like a rebel. Don’t you think so?”

“Sure.”

She frowns in the mirror. “You okay, Bo?”

I nod. Then, because I ain’t sure she saw, I say, “Fine. Just … tired. Didn’t sleep too good.”

Agnes wrings out the washrag and sets it on the edge of the sink. She opens her mouth, like she’s gonna say something, but in the next room, I hear Colt hang up the phone. I turn and yank the door open real fast.

“What’d he say?” I holler.

He don’t answer, so I run out of the bathroom and down the short hall, to the kitchen. He’s standing at the counter, looking tired and running his fingers through his hair.

“Well?” I ask.

“You owe me.” He sighs and shakes his head. “He asked me for money. Can you believe that?”

“ ’Course I can,” I say. “You ain’t gonna give it to him, though.”

“Got to. He made me promise I’d send him a hundred bucks. Was the only way he’d give me the address.”

“Jesus. Colt … I’m sorry.”

“Like I said. You owe me.” He rips a piece of paper out of the notepad next to the telephone, then he hands it to me. “Here you go. Uncle Wayne’s last known address. Dad ain’t talked to him in a while, though, so who knows where he’s at now.”

I look down at the address, but I ain’t heard of the city or street. “Any chance you got a map?” I ask.

He does. One of those big books of maps that people keep in their car on long trips. He bought it before he moved to this place, just in case he got turned around.

I sit down with the book open to the map of Kentucky, carefully looking at the names of every city and town.

“He’s way out east,” I tell Colt and Agnes, who’re sitting on the couch across from me. “Out in the mountains.”

“That’s a long drive,” Colt says.

I take a black marker and, real careful, trace the route from Colt’s apartment to the street where Daddy lives. Or, where we think he lives. The thick black line is long and curvy, part highway, part city streets. Best I can figure, it’ll take nearly four hours to get there. Longer if we hit traffic.

“Can I take this?” I ask, pointing to the map.

“Might as well,” Colt says. “You done marked it up. It’s yours now.”

“Thanks.”

“We’d better get going, then,” Agnes says, getting to her feet. “Want me to take Utah out while you grab our stuff?”

“Uh … yeah. Sure.”

“There’s a grassy area around the side of the building,” Colt tells her. “Need me to help you find it?”

“That’s all right. I’ve got my cane.” It takes her a second to find Utah’s leash, but as soon as she picks it up, the dog runs right to her, ready for a morning pee.

Once they’re out the door, Colt turns to me. “You sure you wanna do this?” he asks.

“What other choice do I got?”

He don’t answer. Because he knows there ain’t no other choice. Not really. Going home’s not an option now. All I can do is keep running.

After a second, he sighs. “Fuck. There really ain’t no winning here, is there?”

I shake my head. “There never is for us.”

He almost smiles. Then he looks down at his bare feet on the carpet. “Bo, you know I’d let you stay here, but—”