Run(31)

“Fuck that,” Bo said. “Tammy’s all right, but she ain’t got a backbone. She stands by her man. She’s a good girl, but she only goes bad to impress a guy. That ain’t you. You’re a Loretta.”

I still thought she was wrong, but I didn’t argue. Instead, I asked, “And who are you?”

“Me?” She sighed. “I’m a Patsy.”

Patsy Cline. I sat there in the passenger’s seat, trying to think of her reasoning behind this. To me, Bo seemed more like a Loretta. She was loud and didn’t take crap from anybody. But Patsy … was so sad. Her songs were about missing people, being lonely, yearning. I wanted to ask her why. Why Patsy? But, somehow, that silly question felt almost too personal.

Besides, the car was slowing down. I stared out the window, wondering where we were, but all I could see were trees and, straight ahead of us—

“Are we at the river?”

“Sure are.” Bo cut the engine and climbed out of the car.

I didn’t know what to do at first. I wasn’t sure why we’d just gone to the river. There was nothing to do here. Nothing interesting. It was the river that separated Mursey from the next town over. We’d all been there. All fished on it. There was no reason to go there if you didn’t have a boat and some live bait.

But Bo was getting something out of the trunk, so I climbed out of the car and just stood there, next to the door.

“I got you something,” she said, shutting the trunk.

“What?”

She walked over to me and held out the thing she’d gotten from the trunk. I reached out, my eyes not really processing it as more than a box. But then I understood.

“Beer?”

“You said you wanted to try one,” she said. “Here’s twelve. But drinking them all at once probably ain’t such a good idea.”

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

“My fridge. They’re Mama’s. She ain’t gonna miss them. I’ll just tell her one of her boyfriends drank them.”

We sat on the hood of the car, our backs pressed to the windshield as I popped open my first beer. Bo hadn’t taken one, probably because she was driving. And, even though I didn’t know much about alcohol, I knew for someone as tiny as Bo, it probably wouldn’t take much to get drunk.

I sniffed the open can. The odor was strong and familiar. One I’d smelled a million times on hot days when Daddy opened a cold can before watching a ball game. Part of me was still nervous, still worried about breaking the rules. But it didn’t seem as scary drinking with just Bo. It felt safer than the party. And, she’d just told me I was a badass.

Slowly, I lifted the can to my lips and took a sip.

And gagged.

“Ugh.”

“No good?” Bo asked.

“It’s kinda what I’d imagine pee tastes like,” I said. “Why do people drink it?”

“Guess they ain’t too worried about the taste.”

“It’s awful.”

But I took another sip. And another.

“How come you weren’t at school today?” I asked.

“Dunno. Didn’t feel like it.”

“Oh.”

She said it so casually. Like this was a choice she got to make every day. She’d wake up in the morning and choose whether she wanted to eat cereal or Pop-Tarts, to wear the pink shirt or the blue, to go to school or to not. Bo didn’t seem to have any rules. She could spend the night without asking permission, take her mama’s car, and basically do whatever she wanted. No one seemed to care.

Well, not no one. In a way, I guess everyone cared. What with the whole town keeping an eye on Bo and all. Judging her for every little thing she did. And even some things she didn’t do.

Still, Bo was free.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” she said. It was the same thing she’d said Friday night in my bedroom, when I’d told her I’d wanted to have a drink at the party.

I took another sip of the beer. A longer one this time. The taste was still bad, but it didn’t make me gag. “Um … Well …”

Once again, I was having a hard time thinking of anything cool or interesting. But I remembered Bo’s answer last time. The secret she’d told me. She hadn’t tried to impress me. She’d just been honest.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” I said finally.

She didn’t laugh. Or say “Awww.” Or try and make me feel better about it. She just asked, “Is there somebody you wanna be kissing?”

“Maybe …”

Truth was, I’d been thinking about Colt a lot since the party and that dance. The night before, I’d laid in bed remembering the way his hands felt on me and trying to imagine what it would feel like to kiss him. Then I’d just rolled over and tried to push the thought out of my head. Colt Dickinson was moving away soon. He wouldn’t be interested in kissing a high school girl. Especially not me. And, even if he were, he was still Colt Dickinson. He wasn’t the kind of boy you had a first kiss with.

I didn’t wanna tell Bo any of that, though. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about me thinking of her cousin that way. Probably that I was crazy. Or desperate. I’d danced with the boy once, and now I was wanting to kiss him?