Molly balled her hands into fists so tight that her fingers hurt. She definitely didn’t want to smash anything at Jimmy’s. She turned downhill, heading further from town where she could detonate in peace.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Jimmy after passing his house. They were perfect for each other, so why was she petrified to tell him? For one thing, she was terrible at handling rejection. She knew she was the most attractive girl in town, by far. She always caught boys following her with their eyes and big appreciative smiles when she wore something tight. Molly usually received several scribbled love letters a month from the ones who bumbled into adolescence.
Jimmy treated her kindly as a friend, but never seemed interested in her like the other boys, and that only stoked Molly’s desire. He was the one for her. He was handsome and mature, all the things a girl could ever want. He was tall and his brown hair framed a gorgeous, intense face. Sometimes she would sneak to the edge of town just to stare at him working in the fields. His shirt stretching against his muscular chest made her dizzy.
He needed her even if he didn’t realize it yet. Like Mark, though, Jimmy relied on Vanessa way too much. Damn her! She cast some sort of magical spell over both of them, bending them to her will and numbing them to Molly’s. Molly hated Vanessa so much; she sometimes found herself plotting Vanessa’s demise. Poison was usually her personal favorite, but right then, Molly wouldn’t mind using a big, heavy shovel upside the head. Then she could dig a hole to hide the body.
Molly’s angry stride came to an unexpected halt with two big sunken steps. She found herself ankle deep in a muddy field surrounded by cabbages.
“Damn it all to hell!”
She was stuck. She tried to free her feet one at a time, gripping with both hands around each knee and pulling, but she became more entrenched the harder she struggled. Meanwhile, she continued to sink and was now up to her shins.
“Let go of me, you stupid mud!”
She ripped one foot out of the earth and then the other, but the muck claimed her shoes. She considered surrendering them to their misfortune and scurrying back to her apartment with whatever dignity she could salvage, but she loved those shoes. Before the plague, Nebraska was a land populated by big footed Neanderthals because it was hard for Hunter to find shoes in her size. She couldn’t afford to lose a pair that fit.
Standing on solid ground, she bent over, knifed both hands into the mud and located one immediately. She pulled and strained and the shoe finally popped loose with a loud sucking slurp. She tossed it to safety. By now the hole had closed over her other shoe. She dug down, felt a mud-caked lace and followed it to the tongue. Her other hand met with the heel and she tugged. Nothing happened at first. She wrenched angrily, struggling harder, and felt a little give as the mud oozed away from the force she applied. Her fingers slipped, forcing her to regroup. She grunted with tremendous effort and the shoe broke the surface, flying out of her hands.
Molly lost her balance and twisted, landing on her back with a splat. She screamed and thrashed in frustration and pain until she was drained of rage and covered in mud. Tears arrived at last, washing away the final traces of anger and replacing it with a grief she never thought possible. She lay there for a long time wrapped in the cool mud and sorrow.
Eventually, she rolled out and wiped off as much mud as she could in the stiff grass that bordered the cabbage patch. She never felt more alone in all her sixteen years.
A tall shadow loomed over her, blocking the light from the stars. For a second, Molly thought she was dreaming. Her love, her savior had come to her rescue.
“Molly, are you all right?” Jimmy asked.
She choked and sobbed. He must have been looking for her.
Jimmy held out his hand and she slipped hers into it. His grip was firm and she experienced a warm thrill at his touch. Jimmy lifted her up beside him.
A smile curled the edges of his mouth. “What happened?”
“I got stuck and lost my shoes,” she said.
“You’d be surprised how often that happens to me.” When he laughed, Molly decided the sound was as nice as rain tapping on the roof when she lay curled up in bed.
He still held her hand. She tugged him closer.
Jimmy turned to lead her away. “Let’s get you back so you can clean up.”
Molly tugged again.
“Wait,” she said. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. This was it. This was the perfect moment.
“What…?”
Before he finished his question, Molly pulled herself close and kissed him, slipping her tongue in his mouth, discovering his and swirling them together. She gripped the back of his shirt so he couldn’t get away and held on tightly. She wanted Jimmy to love her.
She needed him to.
Jimmy squirmed in her embrace and Molly sensed his confusion. His lips were stiff and unresponsive, but she would not allow him to stop until she won. She would break Vanessa’s spell. Molly locked her arms around him, holding onto Jimmy and this moment with growing desperation.
Jimmy turned his head away and broke the kiss. “Molly!”
The urgency in his voice told Molly she was close. Jimmy pushed himself back and tripped, landing with a splat in the mud where she had fallen earlier. She pounced on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground. She pulled his hand, guiding it under her shirt and felt his warm touch on her skin.
“Molly, stop!” He shucked her off like a dirty blanket. “What are you doing?”
“Are you serious? I want to be with you.”
“We can’t do this.” He looked at her, and then dropped his gaze. “I mean I can’t do this.”
“Why can’t you, Jimmy? I really like you. I want you.”
Jimmy stood, and helped Molly to her feet again, releasing her immediately as though certain she was steady; only she didn’t feel steady.
“Molly, I…” A breeze followed his sigh.
Molly’s desire collapsed from the night air on her muddy skin, leaving her chilled and trembling. “What, Jimmy?”
His hazel eyes were touched with concern, but not love. Not for her.
He raised his shoulders in a simple shrug. “I like someone else.”
NINE
Hunter cracked open his eyes in the early morning light as a songbird twittered from somewhere above. His muddled brain cleared and he sat up, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. His arm wouldn’t bend. He remembered breaking his arm, the pain, Scout tugging the bones into place and extreme pain ending with the dark blanket of oblivion. Hunter thought it weird that he didn’t feel any pain now.
Next to him, Catherine slept under a sleeping bag. If there were ever a standard image of peacefulness, the little girl displayed it perfectly with her hands tucked beneath her head, the sounds of her breathing puffing through her tiny mouth. Scout was the opposite of peacefulness. He knelt by the fire, holding a burning stick into the flames, his bleary-eyed stare focused on nothing apparent. His normal tight Afro looked like a lumpy sponge.
Finally, Scout blinked. “How’s the arm?”
“It feels fine. You do good work.”
Scout grunted. “I tightened up your handle bars. Your bike started okay. You should be good to go. Throttle’s a little tight.”
“The throttle’s been jacked up for a while. It’s constantly sticking on me. But that doesn’t matter since I can’t ride, remember?” Hunter held up his splintered right arm as evidence.
Scout responded with a tired frown. He tossed his poking stick in the fire and stood. “I got some water if you’re thirsty. There’s also some food.”
