Run(58)

“We could go in July,” I said. “Maybe for the Fourth? Maybe there’s good fireworks up there.”

“You can see fireworks?”

“Yeah. If they’re bright enough.”

It was the last week of May. We’d been out of school a few days, and Bo had spent almost every night at my house. She’d leave in the morning and head to the Scotts’ farm. They’d just started setting their crops, so she’d go help all day and come back to my house around dark, smelling like tobacco. She’d use our shower—always apologizing to my mama, like it was a huge inconvenience—then we’d head up to my room to watch TV and talk until bed.

Tonight—every night—we were talking about the trip to see Colt.

“Fourth of July’s good,” she said. “I get paid next week. Then I’ll be helping in the field in June. I can have some money saved up for gas.”

That was still the problem, though. The car. There was no way Bo’s mama would let us borrow the blue car for a few days to go out of town. Hell, there was no way that blue car could get us out of town. I wasn’t sure how it got from one side of Mursey to the other without falling apart, based on how the engine wheezed and the frame clanked.

“How old do you have to be to rent a car?” I asked, picking up the brush from my nightstand and combing through my hair.

“Older than seventeen,” Bo said. “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something.”

“Well, we’d better. I’m gonna have to ask my parents soon.”

“Maybe we can take my aunt’s car. Colt’s mama don’t leave the house much.”

I finished combing my hair and stood up, stepping over the pallet of blankets Bo sat on and walking toward the bedroom door. “While we’re in Louisville,” I said, shutting off the light, “we ought to go to Churchill Downs. You know, where they run the derby?”

“I ain’t watched the derby in years,” Bo said.

“Really?” I started making my way back to my bed. “I watch every year. The whole family does. But I think Mama watches more to see all the hats the ladies are wearing in the audience. She don’t care as much about the horses as Daddy and I do.”

“Well, we can go anywhere you want,” Bo said. “How far’s Mammoth Cave?”

“I don’t know.” I climbed into bed, but I left the covers off. It was too hot, and even though Daddy had finally agreed to turn on the air-conditioning early, he kept it real low. “I’ve never been.”

“I ain’t, either. There was that school trip back in seventh grade, but Mama couldn’t afford it.”

“And my parents worried I’d get lost in the cave.”

“They really say that?”

“Sorta. They just kept telling me how dark it was and how hard it would be for me to keep up with everyone else.”

Bo thought about this for a moment. “Well, we oughta go. Even if it’s not real close. Ain’t no way I’ll let you get lost down there.”

I smiled. “Okay,” I said. “We’ll go to Mammoth Cave, then. And you ought to ask Colt if there’s other stuff we should do while we’re headed that way. Make the most of the trip, you know?”

“I’ll call him this weekend,” she said.

“Great,” I said. “Then we can make a schedule and get all the details lined up. And then I can talk to my parents and …” I was grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. “Are we really doing this?”

“Sure seems like it,” she said.

I giggled and squealed quietly. “This is gonna be great. The best summer ever.”

“We just gotta come up with something better next year,” Bo said.

She turned on the TV, the way she always did before we fell asleep, and found a rerun of Bewitched before turning it down just a little, just enough to hear the voices of Samantha and Darrin as they disagreed about how much magic Sam ought to be using around the house.

I dreamed Bo and I were walking down a dark path in a cave somewhere. Bo was holding my hand, leading the way as she held a lantern up for light. But when we reached the end of the path, we found a dead end. And when we turned back, the way we came was blocked.

As usual, when I woke up the next morning, Bo was already gone.





They let me sleep on the couch, with an old quilt and a flat pillow Vera pulls out of a closet.

She don’t say a word to me as she hands them over. But I say, “Thank you, ma’am,” anyway. If this woman’s gonna be my stepmother, I oughta be polite.

“See you in the morning,” Daddy says.

“Good night.”

They head off to their bedroom, and I set up camp on the couch. I lie there for a while, tossing and turning. I keep thinking of Agnes. Wondering how long she’ll be waiting in the gas station for her parents. Wondering what she’ll tell them about me. About the way I left her. I decide I’ll call her tomorrow. And maybe, in a few weeks, she can come here. Once being mad wears off, she’ll be happy for me.

I hope.

But I can’t get all the things she said in that parking lot out of my head. Plus, the TV across the room is turned off, and I ain’t sure if Daddy or Vera will be mad if I turn it on. So, in the silence, it’s impossible to sleep.