So he stopped.
Turning his head, Homer watched the girl hurry toward the car. Her dress, all green and red and blue and golden, rippled and shimmered as she came.
Homer leaned across the seat and opened the door for her.
‘Thanks,’ she said, bending down to look in. ‘Where you heading?’
‘Down Mawkeetaw. Hop on in, if you wanta go that way.’
She nodded her head and started to climb in. Homer turned away as she reached a leg into the car and her dress started sliding up her thighs.
‘That where you live?’ he asked. ‘Mawkeetaw?’
‘No.’The door thumped shut.
‘Where you call home?’
‘Up north,’ she said. Her voice had a hard edge.
Homer pulled onto the road. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked. ‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t you defy your elders, girl.’
After a few moments of silence, she muttered, ‘Tina. My name’s Tina.’
‘Tina what?’
‘Never mind.’
‘Where’s your manners, girl?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, sounding like a little child.
Homer looked at her. Her head was down, her face solemn, her hands folded on her lap. The dress barely covered her lap. Her legs were tawny and smooth.
He wanted to touch them.
Looking away quickly, he leaned forward to ease his tight, sick feeling.
But he was afraid she might get suspicious if he stopped talking. So he said, ‘You got family in Mawkeetaw?’
‘No.’
‘Friends?’
‘I’ve been there a few times for the fair,’ she said. Her voice was very quiet.
‘You from Gribsby?’
‘I never said that.’
‘You running away from home?’
‘Never mind.’
‘I’ve got me half a mind, girl, to turn this buggy around and take you back. I’ll bet Sheriff Diggins, he could find your folks in no time flat.’
‘Don’t you dare try it,’ she said. Her voice was a taut whisper. Homer looked at her. She met him with steady, narrowed eyes.
Her face looked as if it expected a punch, but wouldn’t budge an inch. ‘I’m not going back,’ she said. ‘Never. You just try taking me back and see what happens.’
‘Keep a civil tongue in your head, girl.’
‘I’m not going back.’
‘Maybe you are, and maybe you aren’t.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
His heart was suddenly pumping madly. What
‘I shouldn’t have picked you up,’ he said. His voice had a dry, raspy sound that frightened him.
‘You didn’t have to,' Tina said.
‘Oh yes, I sure did. I had an obligation. A Christian obligation. It was my duty. I have to save you.’
‘Save me?’
‘That’s right.’
‘From what?’
‘Fiends. There’s all kinds of fiends in this world. Fiends just waiting to get their filthy hands on the sweet, young flesh of girls like you.’ He cleared his throat, but the scratchy sound wouldn’t go away. ‘Just couldn’t leave you there on the road. Fiends’d get you for sure.’
She looked at him.
She looked wary.
‘Now don’t fret, Tina. I won’t let them get you. I’ll protect you. I sure will.’ Reaching out, Homer ran his fingers through her hair. So soft. Soft and golden, like her skin.
14
When the hand grabbed her, Marty jumped and banged her head on the wall. Then she looked over her shoulder.
Willy grinned.
She kicked and tried to shut her legs, but his hand stayed between them, clutching her, hurting her. An arm wrapped around her hips. It pulled her off the television. When she started to scream, Willy flung her to the floor and dropped on top of her, crushing out the scream.
He rolled Marty onto her back.
She reached for his face, fingers hooked for clawing, but he grabbed her wrists. Pressing them to the carpet, he straddled her hips and sat on her.
Marty bucked and twisted, trying to throw him off. Then she saw his strange grin, so she stopped moving.
‘C’mon, horsy! Gideeyap!’ He bounced a couple of times.
Marty’s knee took him square in the back.
‘Naughty horsy!’ he bounced harder.
She shot her knee up again. This time, Willy shifted enough to keep it from landing solidly. Then he leaned forward until his face loomed directly over Marty. ‘Give Willy a kiss to make up,’ he said.
‘Go to hell.’
He bent lower and tried to kiss her mouth. She turned away. He pressed his mouth to her cheek and slobbered on her. ‘Aren’t you glad to see him again?’
‘Get off me!’ She felt the spittle roll toward her ear. ‘What do you want?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘Get off!’
‘I plan to.’
‘Bastard!’
‘I’ll let you up. But if you move, I’ll kill you.’
He climbed off Marty and stood up.
With his weight gone, her body felt strangely light. She tried to rub the pain out of her wrists, then scratched the backs of her hands. They were itchy and red, the carpet’s pattern imprinted in her skin.
As Willy walked toward the hall closet, Marty raised her head. Her blouse had come untucked in the struggle, but its buttons were still fastened. Her skirt was gathered above her waist, exposing her white panties.
She straightened the skirt as Willy came out of the closet.
He had a coil of rope in his hand.
Kneeling beside Marty, he tied a slip knot into one end of the rope.
‘Can I sit up now?’ she asked.
