Run(67)

I ain’t even sure I’m ready now.

“Have you called Colt?” she asks. “He’s been worried sick, too.”

“No … not yet.”

“Well, you should.”

“I … I will.”

“God, I’m just …” She lets out a long, harsh breath. “I’m so glad to hear from you, but I’m so mad at you right now, Bo. I thought you were my best friend—”

“I am,” I say.

“Really? Because first you lied to me, and then you left me.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You called me a coward and you were right … but I’m calling now.”

There’s a long stretch of quiet, and I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have called at all. Not that I thought this would be easy, but … Fuck, I don’t know what I thought.

“Well,” she says finally. “Better late than never, I guess.” She don’t sound happy, though.

I take a deep breath and try to get her talking about something else. “So, um … how’re you? How are things with your folks?”

“Fine,” she says, hard and cold. But then, with a relenting sigh, she softens. “Better. It was bad at first. They didn’t wanna let me go anywhere for a while. Guess I can’t blame them for that. But we’ve been doing a lot of talking, and they’re starting to ease up. They’re actually letting me go visit Gracie at college after Thanksgiving.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just for a weekend. She’s gonna show me the campus. And Daddy’s driving me up to Louisville to look at U of L, too. Money’s gonna be tight, but he says we’ll do whatever we got to—take out loans, financial aid—he and Mama are gonna help me if I wanna go to college.”

“That’s great.”

“We’ll see what happens. I don’t wanna get my hopes up just yet. And I still got nearly a year in Mursey to survive … but it helps knowing I might have something to look forward to.” She hesitates. “And I might introduce Daddy to Colt while we’re in Louisville.”

“Y’all are still talking?”

“Yeah … I haven’t seen him since the summer, but he calls a lot.”

I know this is good news, but it hurts. Colt and Agnes, the two people I love most, have got each other now. They’ve got a whole world between them that I ain’t a part of.

It’s my own fault. I know that. I’m the one who ain’t called. But still.

“He says your mama is gonna be in jail awhile. That she—”

“Don’t got the money for bail? Yeah. I heard.” I take a breath. “I think I’m kinda glad.”

I expect her to be surprised by this. Or hurt, maybe, since it sorta means I’m glad to not be coming home. Back to her. But she don’t say a thing.

“How’s Utah?” I ask.

“She’s all right. She sleeps on my bedroom floor every night. Right where your pallet used to be.” She laughs, and a weight lifts off my chest. I’ve missed that sound so damn much. “I’ve tripped over that dog so many times getting out of bed. But Daddy loves her. He’s got her trained to do all kinds of things now. Even taught her to fetch him a beer from the cooler.”

Just then, Lucy pokes her head into the kitchen, where I’m using the phone. “Sorry to bother you,” she says. “Quick question.”

I nod. “Hold on, Agnes.” Then I look back at Lucy, and she smiles at me.

She’s short, like me, but wide. In the last five months, I ain’t never seen her wear anything but red lipstick and a white collared shirt that looks nice against her dark skin. She’s got a good job at the newspaper, and Joe’s a teacher at my school. They’ve got a nice house—small, but nice—and a little girl named Phoebe who thinks my name is Boat.

I asked her once why they’d want a foster kid, and Lucy said her parents had taken in foster kids. Over twenty. Some only for a night, others for years at a time. And now, Lucy’s best friend is a woman her parents had fostered. So she always knew she’d do what they did.

I’m their second foster kid. The first, Helen, is off at college now. Aged out of the system. But she still calls them every weekend.

“Sorry,” Lucy says again. “Just wanted to check—you said Laurie’s coming for Thanksgiving dinner, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “That still all right?”

“Of course. Phoebe and I are about to go shopping, and I just wanna be sure we get enough for everybody.” She looks at the clock on the wall over the stove. “Don’t be on the phone too much longer, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gives me another smile, then ducks out of the kitchen.

On the phone, Agnes asks, “Who’s Laurie?”

“Uh … my friend. Or my girlfriend.”

“Oh!”

I can hear the smile in her voice, and I can’t help picturing it. The way her blue eyes light up. The crinkles around them.

“That’s great. Does she go to school with you?”

“Yeah. We met in English. But we ain’t told anybody about us yet. Everyone just thinks we’re friends. This place ain’t as bad as Mursey but … I like her a lot. She writes real good poetry.”