“Relax, Hollis. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.” With one last wink, he brings his hands from his pockets and claps them a few times to remove any leftover chalk. I force myself not to look over my shoulder as he leaves, and I keep that promise to myself, spending the next twenty minutes playing out the rest of the balls on our table and realizing I never had a chance.
11
Cannon
I used to have a huge grudge against my parents for forcing me to spend my summer days at the elementary school’s recreation program. There were exactly three things I enjoyed about those summers up until seventh grade—all-you-can-drink chocolate milk from the cafeteria lady, time with Sydney Chistensen in the “kissing tunnel” where we kissed like sock puppets, and the pool table.
To say I got good at playing pool is an understatement. I won goddamn ribbons for it. For Christmas one year, I asked Santa for a Predator pool cue instead of the latest Louisville model. My dad was stunned, but good ole Santa came through. I still have that thing, gold case and all, assuming it survives the move here in the storage pod.
Uncle Joel said my dad will be able to head here a couple of days earlier than planned, possibly by Friday. The minute my dad gets here and we unload my truck, I take him to the airport so he can head back to New Mexico and make that drive all over again with my mom and more of our stuff. I’m so close to having a little bit of normal around me. Granted, we’ll have to cram our “normal” into a shared set of bedrooms adjoined by a bathroom, but I’ll be able to survive my living quarters if it means I have my own truck again. Sharing Zack’s very unsexy sedan is seriously grating on my nerves. I’m used to being able to get in and just drive for however long or far I want, but with Zack, I have to constantly worry about how much gas is left in the tank, or if he needs to get somewhere or wants to be with me. I’m never alone!
I don’t want him knowing about my morning plans, especially since I still can’t believe I made them. I’ve spent the last five minutes silently working the car keys out of the pocket of his jeans that are on the floor. First, I had to find the right pair of jeans. I should have planned ahead last night, but Zack and I didn’t hang. I got a lift to Eight Lanes from Tory and after my pool game against Hollis and my dramatic exit, I couldn’t have her find me waiting around out front for someone to come back and pick me up, so I walked home. Three miles is a lot farther than you think when it’s thirty-one degrees outside.
Of course, I walked in and Zack asked where the heck I’d been. I just held up my cell phone and told him I was talking to my dad. Thank God for video games because he half-heard me and nodded before going right back to shooting some alien thing.
Finally, with the keys loose and clutched in my palm, I creep out my cousin’s door, thankful he’s still snoring. I’ll be bunking with him when my parents get here, and it’s going to suck boatloads. I’m a light sleeper, and Zack basically holds a party in his nose every night.
I manage to slip out the front door without making a single sound and roll Zack’s car back in neutral with the lights off so I don’t disturb anyone. I told Hollis I’d be there at five, and it’s a thirty-minute drive. I’m not sure she knows where she’s going or what this place is, but if she shows up it means she really wants to be there. I don’t know why that matters to me but it does. It’s the entire reason I put this out there.
After a quick stop at the service station to drop the last twenty bucks from my dad’s deposit into the tank, I race down the highway to make up time, almost missing the turnoff. The sign for the gulch state park is broken in half. When Zack dragged me up here for sledding before Christmas, he mentioned they don’t fund this place anymore. I’m tempted to park under the sign and look out for Hollis to make sure she doesn’t miss it, but I’m also worried she found her way and is already there, waiting for me.
Zack’s car doesn’t take the side road as well as my truck will, so I’m slow along the winding road that weaves through the stick-like trees, old snow frozen into solid ice blocks on the ground. It’s still pretty out here, the frozen water like jewels that shine under the full moon along the landscape. Everything in town and on the highway has turned to icy mud. The sun won’t be up for two hours, but we had to make this trip early to get home before school. Before Zack knows I’m gone.
The moon is bright enough to light my way and I travel mostly by memory, though I pull over a few times to check my location on my phone to make sure I haven’t gone too far. The piled-rock walls come into view after about ten minutes of driving through the thickest section of trees. Steam puffs out from the exhaust of a familiar minivan parked close to the small ramada.
She came.
I pull into the graveled spot next to her, suddenly feeling my nerves. I blow out one hard breath and kill my engine, stepping out at the same time she does. We meet at the back of my car, our air mixing in a swirl of steam. She’s shoved her gloved hands under her arms, and her body is wrapped in this obnoxiously yellow puffy
