Ivy lowered her head, wiped some juice from her chin with the back of her hand. She dropped the orange peel into the bin on the floor, then took some bananas and went to the register. Her total came to $6.56. She asked the cashier to change another dollar into quarters.
When she got outside, the air bit at her cheeks and small, hard snowflakes were falling. She found a pay phone right outside the door, and it worked, crazily enough. Ivy dialed Asa’s cell, realizing that she didn’t even know what day of the week it was. He was probably at school, with his phone turned off. But it didn’t go straight to voicemail, and after a few rings, he picked up.
“Asa, it’s me.”
“Oh my God, Ivy, you crazy bitch!”
“Hi.” A dumb smile burbled through her lips at the sound of his voice. She pictured him sitting in his Honda during lunch, joint pinched between his fat fingers, bag of burgers beside him on the passenger seat. “Miss me?”
“Where are you?”
“Montana.”
“No fucking way!”
“Not really. But I’m headed there. I think I am, anyway.”
“Did you really steal Mrs. McFadden’s car?”
“Maybe.”
“You crazy bitch. Oh my God.”
“Asa, what’s everybody saying?”
“About what?”
“You know…about me. What I did.”
She heard him inhale deeply, hold it for a moment. Then his words came out in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know. You know.”
“What?”
“That it’s too bad.”
Ivy flicked the coin return flap in and out. “What’s too bad?”
“When are you coming home?”
“Why are they saying it’s too bad? What does that mean?”
“You know, that you fucked up like that.”
“I did not fuck up.”
“Well.”
“No, Asa. I fucked McFadden over. I did not fuck up. I’m getting out, unlike the rest of you losers.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Sorry. Not you.”
“Okay, okay, God. I just think everybody’s kind of bummed that you, of all people, hadda go that route. I mean, they’re going to haul you in. You know that.”
“No they are not, Asa. I’m not getting caught, okay? I’m out of there. I’m gone. I’m not the kind of person who can stay in a place like that and take care of sick people for the rest of my life. Okay? I’m not that…that kind of person.”
“Aww, come on. You’re—”
“No, Asa, stop. Jesus.” Ivy tucked the phone between her shoulder and her ear and tore into a packet of Pop-Tarts, her hands stiff with cold. The crystals of sugar weren’t nearly as big or sparkly as they looked in the picture, but she broke off a piece and shoved it into her mouth, chewing furiously. “Have you talked to Agnes or Colin?”
“Colin came over here looking for you. That was before the cops called and said you were in Pennsylvania.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I…” More inhaling. “I said I didn’t know where you were, and I was really sorry.”
“Sorry? Asa, don’t be sorry. You should be happy for me!”
“Well, I am sorry. I’m sorry you’re a car thief now and that you’re gonna go to juvie and have a record and everything’s going to be harder for you now.”
“Oh, please.” Ivy pulled the socks out of her pocket and shoved her hands into them. “I told you I’m not getting caught.”
“Everyone always said you were the smart one. The one who could actually get out and do something with your life.”
“That’s what I’m doing, Asa. Jesus.”
“No, like going to college and stuff.”
Ivy held the phone out, tilted her head back, and shouted at the sky. “Oh my gawwwd.”
“C’mon, Ivy, we’re all just worried about you.”
“Worried?” She coughed out a hard laugh. “That’s great. How come you weren’t worried about me back in Good Hope? Don’t you know what was going to happen to me there? College or no college, I was going to end up stuck at home for the rest of my life, broke as hell, working some crap minimum-wage job, taking care of my ma and gran, changing their diapers, and by the time they died, my life would be over too. Don’t worry about me now, goddamn it! Be happy for me!”
“But, Ivy, they’re your family. Are you at least gonna tell them where you are?”
Ivy shook her head, feeling the familiar blackness crowd her chest. “I’m done,” she said. “It’s eat or be eaten, Asa, and I was about to be eaten alive. This is how I am, okay?”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is, Asa, fuck. Why can’t anyone just accept me the way I am? Jesus fucking Christ.”
Some girls who were coming out of the store, the very picture of slutty Southside girls, widened their eyes at Ivy’s cursing. One of them noticed the socks on her hands and nudged her friend, and they laughed. “Think this is funny, bitch?” Ivy yelled, but the girls didn’t realize this was directed at them. They laughed some more.
“Ivy?” Asa said.
“This? This is funny?” She held up one sock-covered hand, now balled up into a fist, feeling a delicious, comforting rush of adrenaline gallop through her veins. “Bitch? Fuck you. Yes, you. You too.”
“Ivy!” Asa said, louder this time. “Who’re you talking to?”
“These bitches! And you too, Asa!” she yelled, slamming down the phone, throwing down the grocery bag, and advancing on the girls with her fist slung back. The girls screamed and backed away, one of them frantically scrabbling in her bag and pulling out a phone. “I’ll fuck up your face with this, then see how funny it is, you basic bitch,” Ivy cried.
“Call the cops!” the other girl yelled, cowering behind her friend, who was fumbling with her phone.
“I’m trying to!” the girl with the phone whined.
Ivy lunged forward and slammed her fist into the phone, sending it flying onto the pavement. She pulled her fist back again, and something caught hold of it from behind. She whipped her head around to find the man with the cloudy eye gripping her wrist, hard. He
