by Devney Perry
“No, thanks.” While he’d swipe things here and there, he knew I wouldn’t steal. He’d spent too much money on me already.
Besides, on Friday afternoons, the closest café was always packed with high school girls. They’d taken over since summer break. It was impossible to sit in there and not get overwhelmed with conversations of college and cars and clothes.
I didn’t hate my life. It wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t hate our situation. Aria and I had our freedom and that was priceless. Living at the junkyard was better than where we’d been.
Still, listening to normal girls was painfully hard. Because if our parents hadn’t died, that would have been Aria and me. We would have been the girls at a coffee shop who’d never wondered where their next meal would come from. Who didn’t fear police cars that might drag them back to hell.
“I’m going to go get my new book and then find a park or something,” I told Karson.
“Stay in public where people can hear you, okay?”
“I will.” Other than the junkyard, I didn’t go to places where someone couldn’t hear me scream.
“Have fun working.”
“Oh, yeah. Washing cars is my dream,” he deadpanned.
I giggled and it made him smile.
He smiled so wide and bright, I refused to blink. I had to memorize that smile in the next forty-six days so that when we left California, I could take it with me.
Standing on the sidewalk, I waved and watched as he walked away. About ten feet away, he spun and grinned, giving me a mock salute. I laughed, watching his long strides and the way he walked with such grace.
Then he was gone and I left for the thrift store, taking my time over the ten-block route. There were no new additions to their very limited book supply, so next was an extra thirteen blocks to the closest library.
Not that I checked out books. I’d need a library card for that and requesting a fake one had seemed like an unnecessary risk. But I came to the library often, never speaking to the librarians, simply walking through the stacks.
There was adventure here. There was hope. There were imaginary worlds behind each dust jacket and hard spine, ready to swallow the reader whole. The smell of paper and books infused the air. The quiet whispers of patrons reminded me of fall leaves rustling on the grass.
Finally, after I’d killed another hour, I began the slow journey to Aria’s restaurant. She wouldn’t be ready to leave yet, but I didn’t want to risk not catching her. And I hoped I could beg a lemonade with extra ice from the waitress.
She gave me two while I waited for my sister.
Aria laughed after I explained to her what was happening. “Don’t you think Karson’s gotten more protective lately? Do you think all big brothers are like that?”
Eww. Karson was not my big brother. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Overprotective or not, I liked that Karson cared about our well-being. It was the one gesture that set him apart from most of the people in our lives.
“We still have an hour before he’s ready,” Aria said, checking the clock in the restaurant as she slung her backpack on. “Want to go somewhere?”
“Not really. I’ve been walking all afternoon. What if we just went and hung out at the car wash?”
“Fine by me.” She said her goodbyes to her coworkers, then we made the trek to Karson’s work.
There was a concrete ledge behind the row of vacuums, and Aria and I made ourselves comfortable under the shade of a tree.
I had the perfect view of Karson standing inside the metal shed with a pressure spray wand in his grip. Some days, he washed the cars. Others, he was outside, polishing the wax or running a vacuum.
It was difficult to stop myself from staring. His jeans were wet, like usual. So was his gray T-shirt. It stuck to his flat stomach. Every time he moved, the fabric seemed to stretch tighter over his shoulders and arms.
Stop staring. I had to force my eyes away, locking them on Aria, even though in my head all I could picture was Karson shirtless, wearing that towel.
Aria was telling me about her day while I fantasized about Karson. I hadn’t heard a word she’d said because I was an awful sister. But then a familiar voice barked and jerked me out of my stupor.
“Stay away from me.” Karson’s voice filled the air.
“What the hell?” Aria muttered, twisting. Then we were both on our feet.
“That’s her.” I reached for my sister’s arm. “Aria, that’s her, isn’t it?”
She took my hand, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. Is it?”
“Yes.” It was her.
The jogger from yesterday was inside the car wash, clearly ignoring the Employees Only sign. She was talking to Karson, waving her hands wildly as he lifted an arm and pointed toward the exit.
“Go. Away.” Another shout that carried our way.
The woman didn’t budge. She crossed her arms over her chest, planting her legs wide.
Karson clenched his jaw, then stormed into the office and slammed the door behind him.
The woman didn’t notice us watching. She scowled and marched to her car. With a snap of her fingers, she ordered away the guy drying it with a towel. Then she was behind the wheel and on the road, her tires squealing as she raced onto the street.
I didn’t wait for my sister as I rushed to the office, almost at the door when it flew open and Karson stalked outside.
He spotted me and changed direction. “Hey.”
“Karson, that was her. The jogger.”
“What?”
“Yes, that was her. I’m sure.”
“Fuck.”
“Who is that woman?” I asked as Aria joined us.
Karson gritted his teeth and stared at the road where she’d disappeared. “My mother.”
Chapter Five
Clara
“Hey.” I smiled at Karson as he came striding my way. I was outside the van, shaking the remainder of the cat food from the bag into a bowl for the stray.
The bag that I’d bought over a month and a half ago, the day we’d seen Karson’s mother jogging down our road, had lasted a long time. Too long. Katherine’s cat hadn’t been coming around much, probably because Katherine wasn’t here.
“Hey,” he said. “Where’s Aria?”
“Shower.” I crumpled the bag into a ball for Lou’s metal trash can. “She’s been working on her plants all day, getting them ready for when we go. She wants to stage them around Lou’s place as a goodbye present.”
Karson nodded and sank onto an old car hood. It rested on top of a heap of large metal scraps and a rusted wheel well. The hood was our equivalent of a living room chair.
“How was work?” I asked. While Aria and I hadn’t had to work today, he’d gone in for an eight-hour shift at the car wash.
“Work.” He shrugged, but the lines on his forehead spoke volumes about his day.
And who’d paid him a visit.
“She was there again, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Came right before I clocked out.”
In the time since Karson’s mother had made her first appearance at the car wash, she’d continued to confront him at least once a week.
“What did she want?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Didn’t let her catch me. The second I saw her car, I shut myself in the office.”
“Does your boss care?”
“I mean, he doesn’t like it. But he gets it.”
I gave him a sad smile. “Sorry.”
“Yeah. Whatever. She can fuck off.”
Karson hadn’t spoken about his mother. Not since her first visit and not before. In all the years that we’d lived together, he hadn’t elaborated. Just like me. What I knew of his past were bits and pieces. Karson’s mother had been an alcoholic. Maybe she still was. And she’d been a bitch, according to her son. That obviously hadn’t changed. But I didn’t know exactly what had happened to make him run away.
The best decision of my life. A phrase he’d repea
ted countless times.
“Anyway”—he stood—“wanted to let you know I was back.”
“Oh, okay.”
He walked away, his shoulders tight and his hands shoved into his jeans pockets.
Karson had withdrawn from me over the past month and a half. Every visit from his mother sent him deeper and deeper into himself. He rarely ate with us these days. He walked us to and from town, but the trips were quiet and tense.
Gone was the playful Karson who’d tease and flirt. Gone was the Karson who’d put his arm around my shoulders. Gone was the Karson who’d looked at me at the stoplight like maybe he wanted to kiss me.
I was losing him.
And there were only three days left.
The hope I had of seeing him again after we left this place was dwindling like the numbers on the truck’s wall.
I struggled to find any excitement at all for Las Vegas. For the first time, I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave here and leave him.
Regardless, I’d packed. Aria and I were both preparing to leave. Ready or not, time was running out, and I had to move on with my life. Most of what we’d done today had been to organize our belongings.
We’d be taking a bus to Vegas. Four days ago, we’d gone to the station to ask about tickets and get the schedule. There would be room enough for us to each take two backpacks. Today, I’d packed the keepers and set out the clothes I was leaving behind. I’d be wearing them for the next three days, like my shirt today. It was a favorite but the hem was frayed and there was a hole in the armpit. Aria and I had decided that wrinkled jeans and tattered shirts were worth wearing now, so that when the time came, we were loaded to leave with our best stuff.
“Come smell me.” Aria emerged from the maze, her hair wet and a towel looped over her arm.
“Why am I smelling you?”
“Because I smell awesome.” She smiled and came close, putting an arm around my shoulders.
I scrunched up my nose. “You did use soap, didn’t you?”
“Huh?” She stepped back and sniffed her underarm.
I giggled. “Kidding. You smell great.”
“It’s that new shampoo I got at the dollar store. I love that it smells like a flower. From now on, that’s going to be my smell.”
“Flowers?”
She nodded. “Yup.”
“Good choice.” My favorite smell was orange and vanilla. It reminded me of Creamsicles, the ones Dad used to buy us on hot summer days from an ice cream truck. But I still hadn’t found a soap that smelled just right. Probably because there were only so many options at the dollar store. Maybe when I had a job and some money, I could go to a beauty store and buy my smell.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” Aria asked, hanging up her towel on our “hook.” It was just a hinge in the truck door, but it worked.
“Should we have peanut butter and honey sandwiches? Or honey and peanut butter sandwiches?”
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Peanut butter and honey is fancier than honey and peanut butter, and I’m feeling fancy tonight.”
“Then allow me to cook for you, madam.”
“And fetch me our best champagne.”
“But of course.” I feigned a bow and hopped into the truck, going to the food stash. With our one and only butter knife, I made us each a sandwich.
“Is Karson back?” Aria asked, taking a bite after handing me a bottle of lukewarm water.
“Yeah. He came over when you were in the shower. She was there again today.”
“Bitch,” she muttered.
“Has he said anything to you?”
Aria shook her head. “No. But he doesn’t talk to me like he talks to you.”
“I might make him a sandwich. See if he’s okay.”
“Fine by me. This bread is about done anyway.” There was no mold, but the crust was hard and dry.
We ate in comfortable silence and when I was done, I made Karson’s sandwich. When I left, Aria was settled on her bed with a book on her lap, braiding her hair into a long rope.
A nervous flutter settled in my belly as I walked toward Karson’s tent. The flap on the door was open but I knocked on the wall anyway. “Hey. It’s me.”
“Hey.” Karson sat in the main room with a deck of cards spread out in a game of solitaire.
The sight of him playing alone broke my heart.
Karson had been alone a lot this past year. When Londyn had lived here, she’d been his constant companion. Best friends. And though Aria and I were here, it wasn’t the same.
I’d always be grateful to my parents that I’d been born with my best friend. Even on the darkest days, I was never alone. I always had Aria.
“Want to play a game?” I settled across from him on the floor.
“Sure.”
“Here.” I handed him the sandwich. “Dinner.”
“Thanks.” He took it and chomped a huge bite. “Mmm. Peanut butter and honey. I haven’t had this in so long.”
I laughed. “Like a day?”
“Two.” He chewed, a grin forming on his lips.
“What are we playing?” I asked, scooping up the cards.
“You beat me at both gin and poker last time, so a rematch of either would be good.”
“Gin.” I dealt the cards.
He swiped his hands clean after demolishing the sandwich, then picked up his hand. “One of the guys at work bought me beer.”
I blinked, stunned by the admission. “Really?”
“It’s not the first time.”
“Oh.” How had I missed that? “Do you, um . . . drink a lot?”
“Nah. I am not about becoming my mother.”
Right. He’d mentioned once that she’d get really nasty after too many vodkas.
“I brought the six-pack home with me. Want one?”
“Um . . .” Why did this feel like breaking the rules? Because it was. Despite my current living situation and the fact that we were basically trespassing, I still tried to follow the rules. Even in the beginning when we hadn’t been able to get good jobs, Aria and I had never stolen food like he did. “I’ve never had a drink before.”
“You don’t have to.” Karson stretched behind him, reaching past the partition to his room. Then he lifted the six-pack and set it down at his side.
The cans were white with red letters. The tops were a shade of brassy gold. Karson plucked one from the plastic rings and the top hissed as he popped it.
“I guess . . . I’ll try it.” My voice cracked a little with the thrill.
He handed over the can, then opened his own to raise in the air. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” I tipped the can to my lips and sipped. And gagged. “Gross.”
He chuckled, swallowing his own gulp. “It’s different.”
“If different and horrible mean the same thing, then yes, it’s different.”
The smile that stretched across Karson’s face was worth the nasty beer. His laugh boomed through the tent, drowning the fears I’d had of losing him.
“You haven’t smiled much lately,” I said.
He sighed and took another drink. “No, I haven’t.”
“Are you okay? This thing with your mom . . .”
“I don’t understand why she can’t let me go. She didn’t want me years ago when I actually needed her. Now she comes looking for me? Now? What the fuck? Why?”
“Maybe you need to hear her out.”
He scowled as he took another drink.
Okay. Bad suggestion. I sipped from my own can, the second taste not as bitter and startling as the first. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m being a dick. Sorry. I just don’t want anything to do with her.”
“You never talk about your home with her.”
“You never talk about yours either.” Karson’s hazel gaze locked on mine. In it, the silent plea to trust him broke any resolve I’d had to keep my past hidden.
So I took another drink, and told hi
m the story that only Aria knew.
“Our uncle is a sick son of a bitch. After our parents died, we went into foster care for a while, waiting until they could figure out what to do with us. My parents didn’t have a plan for us.”
Parents did that for their kids, right? Planned for the worst? I’d heard our social worker say a few times that our parents hadn’t had a will. They should have.
“We ended up with our uncle. He was Mom’s stepbrother. I didn’t even know we had an uncle until after Mom and Dad . . .” I didn’t like to say it. Seven years later and I didn’t like to say that they’d died.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this. I don’t want it to hurt you, Clara.”
I met his worried gaze. “If there’s anyone I’d want to tell for the first time, it’s you.”
“Okay.” He nodded toward my beer.
I took another drink, letting the carbonation tickle my tongue. “My grandma had Mom before she married Craig’s dad. I guess that made him my grandpa too, not that I knew him. He died before I met him. My grandma too, when I was a baby. I only remember her face from pictures.”
And even then, the pictures were fading. Some nights I’d wake up in a cold sweat because I couldn’t remember what Mom and Dad had looked like either. What their laughs had sounded like. Aria and I had a few pictures, but even with them, the memories were fuzzy.
“My dad’s parents, my other grandparents, live outside of Phoenix. They have a pool we played in whenever we visited. Before.”
“Why didn’t you go live with them?” Karson asked.
“They didn’t want us. Craig did. I don’t think my grandparents knew about him. What he was.”
Craig had been a different guy then. Kind. Gentle. Fake. I remembered him meeting us, crouching down and shaking our hands. I remembered him saying how pretty we were and how much we reminded him of Mom. He’d given us stuffed teddy bears that day and a pack of M&M’s to split.
“He’d put on a good show for the social workers. They believed it. He was younger than my grandparents, and since he lived here in Temecula, I guess all the adults thought it made sense not to move us.”
“Stupid fuckers.”
“Yeah.” I huffed, taking another drink. Warmth spread through my chest, making it easier to talk. Maybe it was the beer. Or maybe it was just Karson. “He just wanted their money. Mom and Dad’s. He took everything. The house. The furniture. Our toys. If he could sell it, he did. Then he moved us into that shitty trailer and kept the money for himself. By the time we ran away, it was pretty much gone.”
