“Just tell me if you need to stop for whatever, okay?”
“I will.”
The little bell above the door tinkles. I look up. Then down again. Zoe eats her oatmeal like nothing’s happened, ’cause she ain’t noticed. She’s gotta hurry up.
Look up.
There’s two of them and, yeah, there’s the car with lights across the roof out the window, at the corner of the parking lot. The waitress ain’t got to them yet. They’re still standing in the entryway.
“You almost done?” She looks guilty.
“Sorry. I’ll hurry.”
I sink down in the booth. “No, it’s cool. Didn’t mean to be mad.”
She looks where I look and drops her spoon. The cops shift their stances like they’re impatient. Or looking for something. My stomach clenches.
“Don’t look at them,” I tell Zoe.
“Do you think—”
“Nah. Gotta be cops around these parts, right? It’s okay.” I fumble with the saltshaker. “It’s probably the only place to eat.”
“Let’s go.”
“It’ll look bad if we just go. And we still gotta pay.”
The waitress comes out from the back. Grabs two menus. Small talks. Walks this way. I sit up, pick up my fork. They ain’t here for us, I know it, so why’s my blood racing? Shit. Don’t look up. Don’t look.
They approach.
I look up. Lock eyes with the younger one. Do I look guilty? He’ll know that I shouldn’t be here if I look away.
Shit.
I swallow and nod. Zoe clatters her spoon against her bowl, and that cop, he’s gotta know something’s up. His hand goes to his belt and I’m ready to bolt. He nods back. Slides into the booth behind us.
Zoe makes a sound.
“It’s fine,” I tell her.
“I’m done eating.”
“Wait just a minute.”
“We have to go.”
“Hang on. It can’t look rushed.”
The waitress slips us our bill on the way back to the kitchen. I grab it.
“Let’s go.”
ZOE
HE GOES UP TO PAY THE BILL AND HE LOOKS SO COOL, but I’m shaking as I stand in the aisle between table and booth and watch him pull money out of his wallet. I’m trying not to look at the police a few feet away. Why had I never thought someone would come after us? Stupid, naive girl.
The waitress takes the bill, and Will eyes the pocket of his wallet as though counting what’s left. The only money we have is what was left after he bought his car. I don’t know how much that is, but I can’t contain the guilt I feel that he’s paying for everything. I have to contribute somehow.
“Ready?” His voice is clear and his eyes a forced bright.
“I can try driving again, once we’re far enough away from the police.”
He laughs, then quickly pulls me into a hug to hide it.
“I don’t think so. Let’s just get on the road and get some loud music on. That’ll help. We’ll stop when it’s warmer and take naps, ’kay?”
He wears a T-shirt like it’s warm already. I run my hands over his bare forearms, mottled with moon-shaped scars whose history I don’t know yet. His arms are lean but strong, and I suddenly believe he can take care of everything. Even half asleep. Even if we were being chased.
The loud music does help. Especially since it’s loud rock music and Will doesn’t know the words to the songs. That doesn’t stop him from singing at the top of his lungs in his enthusiastic but tone-deaf voice, though.
“… if a braid weight should fall …”
I choke on a sip of water.
“That’s not how it goes!”
“… runaway with my horse …”
“Wrong again!”
I laugh even harder when he bites his lip and waves his fists in the air during the bridge. His black hair flops around his face as he moves to the beat and his warm eyes glitter.
“No! That’s so embarrassing!”
That makes him dance harder, shaking the car with his movements. He rolls the window down and sticks his head and shoulders out.
“I’ll go wherever you will go, Zoe Benson!” he yells to the wind.
“Get in here!” I grab at his shirt and try to brush away the tears that are streaming down my face at the same time. The car swerves and I shriek-laugh, but I couldn’t care less if we head into a ditch for the second time today.
“Anywhere you go!”
“We might not get farther than this field with the way you drive,” I say when he finally brings himself back into the car and snatches my hand for kisses.
“Doesn’t matter, baby. Long as I’m with you. You make me do all kinds of crazy things.”
“Oh, I do not make you bite your lip when you dance.”
He grins at me and I think maybe I could get used to watching this psycho dance like that.
It’s cold, but I roll down my window, too, and surf my hand up and down the drafts. My hair whips around me, but I don’t care. I don’t care that my lips are drying out or that my ears are stinging. I suck the air into my lungs and the pain is blissful. I feel like I could reach my whole body out the window and let the wind carry me to wherever Will wants us to go.
By early afternoon he’s completely worn-out and even the water and music aren’t helping.
“We could get a Red Bull or a coffee or something,” I suggest as his eyelids fall and the car slows for no reason other than that he’s forgetting to press on the gas.
His eyes snap open like he has something to prove. “Nah, I saw a sign for a rest stop a couple miles ago. It should be coming up here in a sec.”
When we come to the stop, he pulls off into a parking lot surrounded by short, golden-brown barrenness. We step out of the car and stretch and use the bathrooms. I bring a change of clothes in with me and wash myself as best I can with abrasive powdered soap and wet paper towels. It’s not much, but I feel slightly less grimy when I return to the car.
Will is already there, leaning on the hood. I walk into his outstretched arms.
“You still good?”
“Yeah.”
“Listen. About that ID. You’re gonna want to tell people you’re eighteen, if they ask.”
“Why?”
“Why? ’Cause you ain’t supposed to leave the state without a parent.”
“When you say ‘not supposed to,’ do you mean something bad could happen? Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Nothing bad is going to happen. Don’t worry about it.”
He kisses me, slow like we have time that doesn’t exist for anyone but us. I tuck my fingers up under his shirtsleeves and trace the armband tattoo there. I pull away and kiss it, all the way around his arm.
“I don’t wanna sleep no more,” he says into my lips as he brings my face back to his. He lifts my legs around his waist and turns so that my back is against the chilly hood. I shudder, but from what he’s doing to me or from the cold, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. All I know are these tremors in my belly and how glad I am that he pulled me off my feet before my knees could give out on me.
My head is spinning like a dust devil, and his heat is closing in on all sides, surrounding me until I’m breathless, but I have to get control of it or he won’t sleep.
“Will,” I gasp.
“Mmm.”
“Will. You have to sleep.”
“You taste like rainbows.”
Laughter bubbles up from the depths of my belly, and Will pulls away with an irreverent grin and a hungry glint in his eyes.
“What? And what do rainbows taste like?”
“You. So good.” He grins at me and I push him back.
“Get in the car, dork.”
“Always with the name-calling. Hurts my feelings.”
“I’m sure.”
He must have emptied the stuff on the backseat to the trunk while I was in the bathroom, because it’s all clear now except for a pillow. He moves the front seats as fa
r forward as they’ll go, climbs in, and tries to arrange his frame in the limited space.
“Come sleep with me,” he says, patting his chest invitingly.
“There’s not enough room.”
“Sure there is. Come here.”
I climb in, ducking down into the tight space. He draws me on top of him.
“It’s cramped back here,” I murmur, sinking into his body.
“It don’t matter. I want you all over me, taking up every inch of space around me.”
He breathes it so close to my ear that his lips are a brush of goose down on my lobe. It sends my body awash in shivers. I can’t get close enough. He smells good, and he’s so warm. I’m tingling all over and I want to keep him awake longer, be more important for him than sleep, but I know I can’t. He should rest.
But I need to hear his voice.
“Will, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
Everything about him smiles: his mouth, his closed eyes, the palest shadow of stubble on his jaw.
“A baseball player.”
I sit up a bit in surprise.
“Really? I didn’t know you played baseball.”
He pulls me back down and cages me with his arms.
“I never have. None of my family ever wanted to spend the time and money Little League takes. By the time I got to a decent foster home, I felt stupid asking about it, so I didn’t. But I did swing a bat once, when I was thirteen. This family that had just taken me in, the dad was trying to get into his kid’s room in the middle of the night. She’d put her dresser in front of the door and piled up her clothes and stuffed animals like they could be her army. He made a ton of noise, but nobody came to stop him. Who wouldn’t—There was an old bat in the backyard and I grabbed it and sent the old bastard down the hall with one swing.”
His shoulder twitches as he remembers the swing. “It felt good to hit him. Me and Aubrey—that’s his daughter—we got taken out of there the next day.”
“I bet you saved her a lot of pain.”
“Don’t know what good it did. If I asked what happened to her, they told me it weren’t none of my business.”
He brushes the bangs out of my face and kisses my nose. I settle into his chest; his arms wrapped around me are heavy and tight, like the smell of my dad’s Jack. But I hated Jack and I think I love Will.
WILL
I SHOULDN’T HAVE TOLD HER THAT. ABOUT AUBREY. I never want her to be afraid of nothing, the way Aubrey was afraid. Maybe I’m too late for that. Maybe Zoe’s dad took all of her fifteen years and taught her to be scared. I’ll undo it. Help her learn to be strong again. And brave. Not that I’m any kind of example, but we can learn together.
I kiss her across her forehead. I’ll wipe away the memories of her bastard dad from her mind. Help her be strong. I promise her silently. Rest my lips at her temple. That promise is the last thing I remember before I fall asleep.
My muscles groan at me when I wake. I’m too stiff to move, and Zoe’s gone from me. But there she is, just in the front seat. She turns to look at me when I grunt in her direction.
“Hi there.”
“Why’d you go up there?”
“You were trying to move. Trying to get more comfortable, I think. I was in the way, so I came up here.”
I sit up and my back’s pissed at me. “Ugh. We need a real bed.” She looks away for a sec, and I see the color and can’t hold back a smile. I reach forward for her hair and twirl a piece around my finger. “You can pick out the furniture, ’kay?”
“Okay.”
Outside the car I stretch and pop joints and moan a little. Blood begins rushing back into places I didn’t realize before were missing it. Little pins stab up my ankles and calves. I try to shake them out, but I can’t tell if it’s helping or making it worse.
“Did you sleep up here?” I ask as I adjust the seat back to where I like it.
“No. I wasn’t too tired.”
“You just sat here?”
“I took a walk. I thought about stuff. Made plans and went over things.”
I look at the ignition as I insert the key ’cause all three of those things sound dangerous and freak me out. But I don’t want her to see that. She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself, even on walks in the middle of nowhere where ax murderers could be lying in wait for unsuspecting girls to go out alone. And thinking’s good. But making plans kinda messes with me. She’s smart enough to make plans without me, but I don’t want her to. I want to be a part of everything she does.
“What kinds of plans were you making?” I make my voice steady and cool. I’m not trying to smother her. That ain’t right.
“I was thinking about school. How I need to finish. Can I do that with a fake ID? How do I fill out forms? I guess I get my GED somehow … and then college?” She plays with a dolphin on her mom’s chimes while she talks. “What kinds of classes do I have to take? And about how I’m going to have to study a lot.” She’s holding the chimes up, making the dolphins swim. The sound’s annoying as shit. “And how I want to sit next to you on our couch and study while you watch baseball. I want you to learn how to play baseball, Will.” She drops the chimes and faces me. “I bet there’s some league you could play in or a college PE class or something. I’ll learn with you, if you want.”
“Yeah, that would be cool.” I can’t tell her that there ain’t no way I’m gonna get in front of people and not be able to hit a ball. I can throw, I guess. Even catch. But swinging at a white blur flying by my stomach seems impossible. Connecting with anything that comes at me fast ain’t easy.
It’s somewhere between lunch and dinnertime when we hit the road again. She surprises me by grabbing a bag down by her feet and pulling out a couple of apples, some crackers and cheese spread—the kind in crinkly plastic packages with the little red sticks—and a bag of frosted animal cookies with sprinkles.
“Where’d that come from?”
“I got it out of the trunk when you were sleeping. It was in my makeup case.” She lifts her chin a tad. “I didn’t pack my makeup.”
Well, shit. Awe soaks me from head to toe like I got caught in the rain, and I’m reminded what a fuckup I am. I shouldn’t have doubted for a second that she could walk around the rest stop on her own. I gotta remember that, let her be strong on her own, ’cause a guy like me ain’t gonna fix her.
She cheeses up some of the crackers and hands them my way as I drive. We share an apple, passing it back and forth after each bite. We’re both trying to take small bites, making sure there’s enough for the other person.
I toss the core out the window. She pops a cookie in my mouth, but I ain’t paying attention. There’s a glint in the rearview mirror.
I gotta take another look ’cause I ain’t sure what I saw. She gives me another cookie, but I can’t remember finishing the first one. I bite. The sprinkles pop under my teeth. I look again.
There’s something glinting on the roof of that SUV behind us. I can’t tell what. Not yet. It might be rectangular. Too far, but I ain’t slowing down to let them catch up. I ease the accelerator down, pick up speed, build space between us. I check the side mirror and hope that car ain’t really closer than it appears.
“Slow down, Will. You’re going to get pulled over.”
“Everyone drives fast out here,” I tell her. Like the SUV. Where the hell are they going so fast?
I get a good look. The car’s white. White and something across the top. Shit. I floor it. The engine revs. We’re flying and Zoe’s scared. She’s got one hand clutching her door and the other one on the dash.
“Will!”
But we gotta move or we’re screwed. I check the stretch of highway. Check the mirror. Why ain’t he got his lights on? The gap’s opening. I’m pulling away. I hold the wheel so tight sweat forms on my palms. Fields rush by, and if I lose control we ain’t stopping for a long time.
There’s a town coming up, the kind of place where I gotta slow down, go twenty
-five. I push one last time, gain more road in between us. Another look back. The SUV’s a square, hard to even see the lights. It slows, turns off on some back road. I take my foot off the gas.
Hunting lights. That’s all it is across the top.
I relax my muscles. Push my head back. Zoe gives me a look.
“Just testing her out. See how fast this baby can run.”
Zoe lets her hand fall off the dash. “Boys.” She laughs.
I ain’t sure she believes me. I should tell her about the money. No, not yet. Not till we get to Vegas and she realizes we need it. Any sooner and she’s just gonna think I’m a thief.
My heart slows down as the car slows down, and I figure we’re okay, I figure I shouldn’t overreact like that. But reacting quick’s just the way life made me be. Ain’t never felt safe much.
Zoe leans on my shoulder. She watches the fields and nothingness pass us by.
I check the mirrors.
ZOE
THERE’S NOTHING, REALLY NOTHING, OUT HERE. Acres and acres of graze land and wheat land and who-knows-what-else land. At this time of year, though, the land isn’t being used for much. Just sitting, waiting, resting. Brown and going on forever.
We slow when we pass through towns. I brush my finger distractedly across the bottom of my chimes when we’re tired of the radio but need more noise than the ever-present rush of tires on road. Sometimes the glittery sound makes me think she’s here, escaping with me.
We look curiously around those small towns, as though trying to see if this was the kind of place we could see ourselves living someday. But the towns are all small and we’re sick of small towns. We can’t ever go back to places where everything is everyone else’s business. Everybody’s business, unless it’s something really important. Then everyone has the right to ignore it.
Nobody but Us Page 4
