Jerk, California

  “I told them.” My voice is soft.

  She stops and thinks. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  I twitch and keep my eyes fixed on my shoes. I want to rewind the day one hour, before I knew, before I saw Grandma. I felt free then. But now I feel stupid. Stupid and pissed. Not sure why. People in Pierce get pregnant all the time—people younger than Naomi. Not all that much to do in a small town. Probably no different in the city.

  Naomi bounces forward, turns, and kisses my cheek. “It’s out. Safe with her, safe with you!” She spins around, laughs some more. “Feels so good to be free, doesn’t it?”

  “It must,” I say. “When someone accepts you even after they know stuff, see stuff about you, it feels like a burden lifts. I sorta felt like that in Nebraska; here, too.”

  “Exactly!” She exhales loud. “I felt like such an idiot after Andrew left. Andrew—my free personal coach.” Naomi throws back her hair. “But it can get so lonely, so when they say ‘love,’ you know it’s a lie, but right then it doesn’t matter. The word feels so good. Oh, Sam, to know I can talk to you about it!”

  I don’t need to hear this.

  But Naomi tells me all about Coach Zimmerman, how he disappeared one week after she told him about the kid. She says amazingly nice things about him considering what he did, if she were to ask me. But she doesn’t.

  I stop, turn. Words come fast and easy.

  “Why are you going to California with me?”

  She looks at me as if it’s obvious. “If Mom finds out, I’m dead. I need time.” She starts to walk; I don’t, and she turns around. “What was I supposed to do?”

  It’s too much. I close my eyes and hear people laugh; the crowd at graduation, Old Bill as he lies about Dad, Naomi as she lies about her reason for coming with me. Too much. I’m sick of her almosts—her little kisses, her squeezes. I’m sick of everything she says that makes me feel special, makes me hope. She’s a damn pretty liar, but a liar just the same.

  There are only three people I want to talk to; two are dead and one is in a hospital about to join them.

  I run. I will not be caught by Naomi, by cheetah, by jet plane. I race into Hillsboro, my name soon a dull echo carried away by the field’s rustling. A truck passes me.

  Run faster!

  Another truck.

  Faster!

  “What did I say?” Naomi calls.

  Dammit, run faster!

  There’s no room for thought. I peel into town, and knowing Naomi would find me at the hospital, I make for the Penners’. The sun sets as I bound up the steps. Aaron throws open the front door, and I stumble to a halt.

  “There you are.” Aaron grabs on his ball cap.“We gotta hurry!”

  I shake my head.

  “You okay, Jack?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Aaron looks me over. “You rather not go to Frontier Days? If you need to rest—man, after what Dad put you through—maybe you would rather—”

  “Frontier Days.” I gasp. “Lots of people?”

  “The whole county.”

  “Can Naomi find me?”

  Aaron raises an eyebrow. “Not unless you two arranged a place to meet.”

  “Let’s go.”fit

  chapter thirty-five

  MY BRAIN IS NUMB AND I FOLLOW AARON LIKE A six-foot sheep. He blabbers about how beautiful Naomi is, and I don’t want to hear it. I stop and look around.

  “I tell you.” Aaron walks on and shakes his head. “You are the luckiest guy alive to ride around with—” He spins.“What’s wrong?”

  “So much happened so fast, I forgot about it—is there a windmill in this town?”

  “Not that I know of. Well, there’s the old one behind the museum, if that counts.”

  “Take me to it.”

  Aaron frowns and points. “It’s that way and Frontier Days is—”

  My heart beats faster. “I need to see it.”

  We reach the community park. He stops and gestures toward a cluster of buildings in the middle of the clearing. “Behind that museum. That’s where it is. Now can we get going?”

  “Yep. Let’s get going.” I beeline for the mill.

  “Hey! The festival is this way, you know, fireworks, hide from the beautiful girl, that’s all this way.”

  Aaron’s voice fades. I take the left turn and head for the historical museum and the safety of my father. A dead man can’t hide too many painful surprises.

  Footsteps pound behind me. “Hold up. I guess Frontier Days can wait. What’s the big deal about an old mill?”

  “I want to see my dad.”

  Inside, I jitter, and the numbness vanishes. I feel just the same before a long run, when excitement and worry beat each other up.

  I reach the fence that surrounds the museum and the mill. It’s a strange place for a windmill, next to a highway and across from a gas station. Looks old, but not rickety. The thing is solid.

  “Yeah, it’s all closed.” Aaron shakes his head. “The gate’s locked.”

  A white picket fence is all that keeps out intruders in this honest little town, and I step over it.

  “You can’t do that, Jack.”

  I walk up to the mill. Unlike the tall towers that poke into the Minnesota sky, this windmill has a plump body and large fins that almost scrape the ground. I pat the base, rough against my hands. A placard stands near it with words almost too small to read.

  HISTORIC SITE WINDMILL RESTORATION . . .

  Blah, blah. I skim the words, until a name snags my gaze.

  RESTORED BY JAMES KEEGAN

  “It’s true. You were here before me,” I say, and step back. “I’m on your heels. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Your dad did this? Nobody told me that.”

  I nod. I don’t know what he did on the thing. He might have built it all, might have only given it a coat of paint. But his name made the plaque. “You did good.” I gently kick the plaque; look his handiwork over one more time.

  “I mean it, Jack. Let’s go.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I turn.

  “What are you doing there?” An old man shouts from outside the fence. He sounds more confused than angry. “Who gave you permission to go in there?”

  I glance at the plaque, remember my map. Two men, really.

  Fireflies and the smell of gunpowder fill the steamy night, and Aaron and I walk home from the fireworks display. We turn onto A Street.

  “I wondered where you boys were,” Turk calls from behind. He and Trish speed up and catch us.

  Turk tousles my hair. “That was quite a show. I’ll bet that rivals anything you have up north.”

  We reach their home. Naomi waits on the porch.

  “Boys. Will you kindly head inside?” Trish says, and turns to Naomi. “Young lady, we have some talking to do.”

  Naomi’s gaze shifts to me. I run my hand through my hair.

  “No, ma’am. Not tonight.” I step in front of Trish.“You can’t talk with Naomi tonight.”

  Trish’s jaw drops, tightens.“Did you hear that, Turk? Think of the arrogance. This is a matter that must be made right.”

  Turk’s been staring at me all the while. “Jack?”

  I look at him and nod.

  “Whoo.” Turk exhales hard, nods himself. “Okay. Come on, Trish, boys.” He grabs his wife’s hand.“There’s tomorrow. Let’s let these two alone.”

  “This boy has bewitched you. After what was almost done, and now you side with him over me?” Trish’s voice disappears inside. We’re alone.

  We listen to crickets for a long time.

  Naomi forces a smile. “I couldn’t find you. I thought you left.”

  I sit down beside her. “I’m back.”

  We sit for hours. I can’t locate any questions in my mind, and she must not have much more to say. We speak about nothing in short, soft bursts, and fall back into safe silences. But somewhere in the middle, her hand grabs mine, and when we finally enter the house, I kno
w things with us are okay.

  We part at the stairs and whisper good night. I thump down the steps and flop into bed.

  The night is quiet. Heavy quiet.

  “Wake up, Jack.”

  Turk flicks on the light, and I wince, stare at flashing sunspots. My talk with Naomi ended fifteen minutes ago. There was lots of thinking to do, and Turk caught me wide-eyed.

  “I hate to do this. You need to leave,” he says.

  “Now?” I ask, and prop myself on an elbow. I squint away the red.

  “I’ve lived with Trish a long time.” A crash from upstairs makes Turk wince. “Long time,” he whispers. “She’s in the kitchen.”

  “Is that bad?” I say.

  “No, no, it’s fine.” Another crash. “Unless it’s two A.M. Then it means if I don’t get moving quick, life will change dramatically around here.”

  “You have to get moving?”

  He sighs. “You do. Without an apology, she’s not letting Naomi off the hook. She needs you two out.”

  Turk tosses me a shirt and shorts and stuffs my clothes into the open duffel.

  “What if Naomi does apologize?”

  He pauses. “Will she?”

  I listen to banging in the kitchen. “I’ll get my shoes on.”

  Upstairs, Trish throws ham sandwiches together while Aaron carries Naomi’s things to the curb. Naomi comes running toward me.

  “Please get me out of here. They don’t want me.”

  “I know. It’s okay. Don’t worry.” I back into Trish.

  “We’re going,” I say.

  She presses a bag of sandwiches into my hands. Trish reaches out and strokes Naomi’s cheek. “I don’t want you to go. I just can’t have you stay.” Trish glances at me and turns back to Naomi. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  Naomi stares down and shakes her head.

  “Don’t like the ending, but thanks for the stay.” I say.

  I pull Naomi into the night. Headlamps approach down the street.

  “Nate gassed up your car. Now don’t speed.” Turk walks to Naomi. “I don’t know your story. None of it. But whatever you’re running from needs attention. Deal with it soon.” He turns to me. “And you—choose.” He winks.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”

  Nate turns off the lights, and we climb into the dark car.

  Turk slaps the top of the Chev.“Now go, Mr. Keegan. Don’t miss any of George’s appointments.”

  Outside, Turk puts his arm around Trish. The two boys join them, and the family steps off the sidewalk. I don’t want to leave. George’s map says I belong here one more night. Naomi hums a nervous hum beside me, and I need to get going, but I can’t make myself pull forward.

  Tires squeal and Naomi takes her foot off the accelerator.

  “Like that,” she says.

  chapter thirty-six

  WE PEEL OUT OF HILLSBORO. WIND WHIPS OVER the flint hills, catches our car broadside, and shudders the frame.

  It makes no sense to drive fast, and I slow to the posted speed limit. Naomi’s leg bounces fierce, and I accelerate again. Speed calms her.

  “Where next?” she whispers.

  “George marked a spot beyond Grand Junction.” I point to the map resting on the dash. “Looked at it last night. Hey, it got crazy and I didn’t tell you! The windmill George drew for Kansas was big and fat just like the one at the museum—”

  “Colorado? I got it!” She slaps my leg. “Amber lives in Vail. It’s probably on the way. We can stay there a night.”

  I was talking about something important.

  My stomach tenses. This is my trip. My friend sent me off, my dad’s leading the way, and my grandma’s on the far side.

  “I don’t know about leaving George’s path,” I say.

  Headlamps light up my rearview mirror. They approach, pass, and again Naomi’s leg jumps. “How fast are you going?” Naomi strains to see.

  “We’re making good time.”

  “Please,” Naomi says. “She’s a good friend. I’d be safe.”

  I twitch and yawn. “Safe from what?”

  She stares as if I’m stupid, as if we have the police on our heels. But there’s nothing behind us except a whole pack of lies.

  The first rays of sun glint off the “Welcome to Colorado” sign. I zip into the Mountain State on a blue-sky Sunday and loosen inside. Naomi had found sleep hours earlier, and looking at her and the open road, I smirk. Doesn’t matter what she did or with whom, out here I feel free. All anger leaves.

  I pull over, get out, and stretch. “Mountain State” seems an overrated nickname.

  Flat as a pancake.

  A tap sounds from the direction of the car. Naomi rolls down the window and pokes out her head. “Why are we stopped?” She looks around, frantic.

  “Needed a stretch. It’s been a while since I slept.” I reach long and slow for the sky. “I thought about what you said, about staying safe and all. There doesn’t seem to be anyone out to get us.”

  Naomi yanks her head in, slides into the driver’s seat, and guns the engine.

  “Okay, I get it.” I shuffle around to the driver’s side. “We’ll keep going.”

  “Let me take it for a while,” she says, and stares at the road ahead. I straighten. I’ve seen her winter driving—fast, reckless. But I’m so tired.

  I nod. “There’s cash in the glove compartment for gas.”

  “Enough?” she asks.

  “Think so.” I hop in, click the glove latch, and pull out a wad of bills. “George left me everything. He didn’t use credit. I didn’t know how much to bring.”

  Naomi lifts a brow and squeals onto the road. “How much do you have?”

  “About five thousand dollars.”

  “You keep all that cash in the glove compartment?”

  I toss the money back in and drift off.

  I wake in Denver.

  Mountains.

  Beautiful. The hood of our car begins up-and-downing. I gaze past Naomi at forests crowning ever-steeper ridges and filling ever-deeper valleys.

  She takes the snakelike turns too fast for my gut’s liking.

  “First time?” Naomi reaches over and squeezes my thigh.

  “In the mountains, you mean?”

  “That, too.”

  Naomi’s back. I see it in her face, the soft glimmer that blinds a guy, the smile that can mean anything. The mountains seem to settle her, hold her.

  “I remember my first time,” she says. “Took my breath away.”

  We’re not thinking along the same lines, I hope.

  “When we reach Amber’s, we can relax.”

  I breathe deep.

  “We’re not stopping at your friend’s place.” I stare straight ahead.

  The car swerves and there’s not much room to swerve and no place to pull over. Naomi raises both hands. Ahead, the mountain pass turns, and I lunge at the wheel.

  “Watch it, Nae!”

  “Why?”

  “So we don’t fly off the damn road!”

  “Why aren’t we stopping?” She folds her arms, but leaves her foot on the accelerator.

  “You trying to get us killed?” I scoot over, plaster both twitchy hands on the wheel, and we whip around the next turn.

  “How’s it feel? Knowing someone will kill you? That’s what my mom will do when she finds out. That’s why we’re going to Amber’s.”

  I jam my foot hard on the brake and the car shudders. Naomi lifts her foot, and we roll to a stop.

  “Get out,” I whisper.

  She does, and I follow. If another car rounds the bend with speed, we’re likely dead, but right now it don’t matter.

  We stand and glare at each other. She steps closer. We’re inches apart. Both of us breathe hard.

  “Do you know how much I hate you, Sam Carrier?” She throws her hair back.

  “I have an idea.” My shoulder twitches.

  I want to grab her and shake her
and kiss her all at the same time.

  A car squeals around the curve; I fist Naomi’s shirt and yank. Our backs smack against the mountain. My heart pounds.

  She swallows hard. “I thought you understood. When I told you, it sounded like you understood. Don’t you ever need a friend to hug you and tell you it’s going to be all right, even if they don’t know that it is?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And another thing, Amber wouldn’t toss us out for doing what we did.” Naomi sidesteps nearer and presses into me.

  “The Penners didn’t boot us for that.” I peek down. “It was the lie.”

  Her body stiffens. “Okay, Mr. Moral. Like you’ve never lied? Now you are sounding like your dad.” Naomi fronts me. “What’s happening to you, Sam?” She buries herself in my chest.

  I stare down at my limp arms that make no move to hug her. What is happening to me?

  “That’s the thing, Nae. I don’t know what my dad sounds like.” I pull away, and rub my face hard.“But he wasn’t a drunk, he didn’t run out on me and Mom, and he wasn’t a wimp. He looked like me, you know?” I bend forward. “The only thing he left me was this disease, but it got thrown at him, too. He hated it as much as me.” I peek into the car at the map on the dash. “And the only way I’ll ever find out about the dead guy is by sticking to George’s route. ’Cause all I’ve got of the man are these mills. These damn mills!” I breathe deep and swallow hard. “But they’re something. Who knows what I’d miss in Grand Junction if we stop at Amber’s?”

  Naomi drops her gaze to the ground.

  “This is my one shot to figure things out. So I’ll make you a deal. I’ll drop you off at your friend’s house. You keep running from your mom. Play whatever games you want with me. But I can’t run from Dad anymore.”

  Naomi looks up. She wears her thinking face.

  “No games,” she says. “Not since I told you everything. There’ve been no games.”

  I nod. “So how you’re acting is how you’re feeling and I can believe whatever you do and say?”

  Naomi straightens, rubs her cheeks, and tries to look solemn. I don’t move, and she raises her right hand to swear it to me. Can’t help but grin.