She’d looked at the map and decided to head for a town called Eaton, southeast of Forks and a few miles from 84. It looked big enough to have a bus station. She’d buy a little food, see how much she had left for bus fare, then call Asa to find out what was going on.
She got up to the road and went left, which seemed like the right way, based on her guesswork with the map. She crossed to the other side, and when she heard a car coming up from behind, she stripped a sock off one hand and held out her thumb, walking backward, trying to look friendly but not stupid. “Come on,” she muttered as the car slowed and a middle-aged woman peered curiously at her. After meeting Ivy’s eye, the woman jerked her eyes back to the road and sped off. Another car did the same, then a pickup truck. Ivy knew how she looked, with all the layers and no coat, oversize rubber boots, a sock on one hand. Not like a local high school girl headed to her boyfriend’s house, someone you could chat with about Friday’s game, then say, “Tell your momma I said hi,” and “Call me if you want a ride back home.” The only person who was going to pick Ivy up was somebody who liked what he saw: a skinny runaway expected by no one, teeth clenched against the cold, in no position to bargain.
She walked a while without putting her thumb out, keeping her eyes on the cellophane, straws, and plastic bottles that fluttered and rolled every time a car went by. Ivy knew how close she was to becoming a piece of that litter, blowing into the dark corners of towns where no one would want her. Exactly $52.89 stood between her and those matted, directionless kids, Please help scrawled on ripped cardboard, flea-bitten dog at the end of a piece of frayed rope. $52.89 and a sense of purpose.
A beat-up Honda pulled onto the shoulder just ahead of her. Ivy approached the driver’s window. An old man in a camouflage jacket and hat turned his head but didn’t look directly at her. One of his eyes was clouded over.
“Need a ride?”
Ivy peered into the car. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a delicate silver chain that ended in a crystal sphere, which caught the morning light and bounced tiny shards of it around the grimy car. “Sure.”
The man grunted and rolled up the window, and Ivy went around to the passenger door. The car smelled like cigarette smoke and grease; there was trash everywhere. Ivy had no choice but to put her feet on a pile of newspapers and McDonald’s bags.
“Where to?” The man coughed. The heat was blasting out of the vents, and sweat shone on his forehead.
“Eaton?”
“I’m going as far as Agloe. Eaton’s another thirty miles.”
“Agloe then.” The man didn’t look at her, just started driving. Ivy pulled the socks off her hands and stuffed them in her jacket pockets. “Is there a bus station in Agloe?”
“Nope.” He dug in his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his face.
So she’d get some food and call Asa before figuring out the bus situation. She watched the crystal sway from the rearview mirror. It was a gift to Ivy’s tired mind, that kind of weird detail. She started chewing it over: maybe the necklace belonged to the guy’s granddaughter, a little girl who loved him more than anybody, who didn’t care about his cloudy eye. She gave it to him to remember her by when her parents split up and her dad took her to live with relatives in Mississippi. “Come see me, Grandpa,” she’d said when she dropped it into his calloused hand. “Come down to Mississippi.” And every day he worked hard and saved his paycheck for gas money so he could do just that.
Or maybe this was his sister’s car, and he was borrowing it while his truck was in the shop, and she was going to kill him when she saw how dirty it had gotten. Ivy mulled over the possibilities for a while, watching the trees rush by, until finally sidewalks appeared, and then driveways and houses.
“I can let you off at the Price Chopper, unless you need to go somewhere else.”
“No, that’s fine.”
They pulled into the parking lot, and Ivy began to prickle all over at the thought of buying food. “Thanks a lot,” she said, getting out. She thought about asking the old man about the crystal, but he didn’t look like he was in the mood for conversation.
Inside, there were Christmas decorations dangling from the ceiling and bins of plastic candy canes. Ivy took a basket and wove haltingly through the aisles, looking at prices and trying to figure out how to spend the least amount of money on the largest amount of food. She picked up a box of Pop-Tarts, frosted apple caramel, and stood transfixed for a moment by the picture on the box. Crystals of sugar sparkled on top of a coffee-colored caramel shell. She put it in her basket.
She found her way to the produce section, where there were orange slices sitting in a plastic sample bin. Ivy took one and tore the bursting flesh from its peel with her teeth. The sudden acidity burned her mouth, but then it turned sweet. She took
