“Of course.” The car made a turn, and I knew we were only a minute or two from school. “I was thinking some mashed potatoes, corn bread, and maybe fried chicken? Sound good?”
“Great. Can Bo come?”
I already knew the answer to this. Despite all my complaints about my parents, they’d really come around to Bo over the past few months. It had taken a while. Mama wasn’t so keen on her after the trip to the river that had got me grounded. But now Bo was at our house almost every weekend, and she ate dinner with us more nights than she didn’t. And if Bo wasn’t around, they wanted to know where she was. Her presence was pretty much expected.
“Of course,” Mama said without even having to think about it. “I just assumed she’d be coming. Do you wanna invite Christy, too?”
“Um … Maybe another time. She and Bo don’t really get along.”
“Oh. All right. Well, that’s a shame.”
“Yeah. But … since Bo’s coming over anyway,” I said, winding up for my real question. “Can I just ride the bus home with her?”
I felt dumb even asking. I’d gone to parties, drank beer, spent the night at a boy’s house—not that Mama knew about those last two. But still. I was seventeen now, and I wasn’t even allowed to ride the bus and walk home alone.
“Hmm.”
Hmm was a better start than an outright no.
“Bo can ride with me. That’s her bus anyway. Then we can walk home together.”
“Well …” Mama paused. “Is she good at guiding you?”
I had to hold back the groan I felt coming on. Mama had been the one to sign me up for mobility lessons as a kid. She’d seen me use my cane for most of my life. I didn’t need to be guided all the time. Especially not in the middle of the afternoon, when my vision was best, on a route I walked every Sunday morning with her and Daddy.
Still, I gave her the answer that would get me what I wanted. “Yeah. Real good. She’s guided me lots of times.”
“Not on a busy road, though,” Mama said. Still, she gave in. “Fine. Just be careful, okay?”
It was a small victory. And the prize was something I’d done before—just without her knowing. But still. Coming from my mama, this was progress. We’d been making it over time—slow, but steady. It was probably crazy, but I was starting to have hope that, one day, she and Daddy would treat me the same as Gracie. That I’d be allowed to do the same things she did, instead of having to sneak around and lie about it.
Maybe Christy and Colt and Bo were right. Maybe I did just need to talk to my parents and make them see my side.
I was looking forward to telling Bo the good news. And I didn’t have to wait as long to see her as I’d expected.
During second period, there was a knock on the classroom door.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Devore.”
My head jerked up, though I didn’t have to see that halo of red and gold to know who was at the door.
“Do you need something, Bo?” my algebra teacher asked.
“Mr. Martin sent me,” Bo said. “He needs Agnes in the chemistry lab.”
“What for?”
“Ain’t sure, ma’am. Said something about a test she took last week …”
Mrs. Devore sighed. “So he’s gonna cut into my class time? That man drives me crazy. I really ought …” She trailed off, probably remembering she was in a room full of students. “Never mind. Agnes, did you get the homework assignment down?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then go. But ask Mr. Martin to wait for his own class to talk to you next time.”
I grabbed my books, unfolded my cane, and followed Bo out into the hallway.
“I failed the test, didn’t I?” I asked. “I knew it. How does he expect me to do an essay about our lab experiments when I can’t see half the stuff my partner’s doing or the way the stuff reacts? And I’ve told him so many times—”
“Relax,” Bo said. “Mr. Martin didn’t ask me to come get you.”
“He didn’t?”
“No.”
I frowned at her as she led the way, turning down the hall that would take us to the cafeteria and the building’s back entrance.
“Then what are we doing?”
She looked back at me, and she was close enough that I could see the big grin on her face. “Celebrating.”
It was the first time I’d ever skipped class, and once the nervousness wore off, it was real exciting.
Bo had her mama’s blue car, and we drove out to the river, to that same spot where I’d had my first beer and sang with Bo on the roof of the car. We hadn’t been there in months. It had been too cold. But that day, it was warm enough for us to sit on the hood, our backs against the windshield, listening to the birds that had just returned from somewhere farther south.
“I got you something,” Bo said, hopping up onto the hood next to me. She told me to hold out my hand. I expected a beer, like last time, but instead she placed something small, round, and sweet-smelling in my hand.
A Little Debbie cake.
“Hold on,” she said, before I could say anything. “I ain’t done yet.”
Then she pulled a small, thin candle out of nowhere and lit it with a cigarette lighter. I couldn’t help laughing.
“Happy birthday,” she said. “I know it ain’t much, but—”
“It’s perfect,” I told her. “Best birthday cake ever.”
“Liar. Blow out the damn candle.”
I did as I was told, then we split the snack cake between us.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Bo said, once we’d finished the Little Debbie.
“Uh …” But this game had gotten hard. It wasn’t easy coming up with things Bo didn’t know about me. I’d already told her so much. Told her more in the past few months than I’d told Christy in over a decade of friendship. “Let me think about it. You go first.”
“All right.” She paused. “You probably won’t believe me.”
“I always believe you.”
“Well … I ain’t never had sex.”
“Wait … what?” I sat up straight and turned to look at her. “You’ve never … really? Not once?”
By now, I knew most of the rumors about Bo weren’t true. Some had been exaggerated; others were just outright lies. But somehow, I’d never even questioned the idea that she’d slept with somebody. Probably a few somebodies. How could you get a reputation like hers otherwise?
“Not once,” Bo said. “Too many people in my family get pregnant young and ruin their lives. I decided a long time ago I wouldn’t be one of them.”
“Wow,” I said, stunned. “I can’t believe I lost my virginity before Bo Dickinson.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth, mortified. Had I really just said that?
Now Bo sat up straight. “What’d you just say?”
I felt my face start to heat up. “I, um … I kinda slept with Colt.”
“You slept with Colt? My Colt? Colt Dickinson?”
“Um …” I pulled my knees up to my chest and leaned forward. “Yeah … Since you went home, it was just me and him at his house on New Year’s Eve and …”
“You had sex with Colt, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I know, I’m sorry. I just thought … I thought you’d think I was lame, making a big deal out of sleeping with someone. I didn’t want you to think I was dramatic or anything. Of course, if I’d known you were a virgin—”
“Don’t make this about me,” she said. “Shit. You really slept with Colt?”
I nodded. “Is it … Is that weird for you? Since he’s your cousin and all?”
“I mean … I reckon it’s a little weird, but I really ain’t that surprised.”
“You sure acted surprised.”
“I’m surprised you slept with him,” she said. “But not surprised something happened between y’all. It’s obvious he likes you.”
It’s not like I didn’t know this. Colt told me so himself. But it stil
l made me smile a little.
“Wow. You slept with Colt … Well, I guess that’s the something I didn’t know about you.”
“Guess so … I’m still hung up on yours. You’ve really never slept with anybody?”
Bo snorted. “Told you you wouldn’t believe me.”
“No, no. I do. I’m just …”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’ve done a lot of other stuff,” she said. “I’ve fooled around with a lot of boys. Kissed even more boys. And a girl.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I threw up my hands. “Forget the sex. What girl’d you kiss?”
She sounded embarrassed—and maybe for good reason—when she answered. “Dana Hickman.”
“What? When?”
“New Year’s. Seems that was a big night for both of us. Dana was the one who drove me home. I was upset and she was being nice and we made out in her car.”
“Wow,” I said. “But you two aren’t dating or anything, right?”
“No.” She sighed, and I could tell she was more than a little sad about that. “Her daddy’s a deacon at the church down on Peyton Street.”
She didn’t have to say anything more than that.
“Poor Dana,” I said.
“Yeah.” Then, in this rush of words, like she was making herself ask even though she didn’t want to, she said, “How do you feel about me liking girls?”
I was caught so off guard that I just sat there, gaping, for a second.
“You’ve been nice about it,” she said. “But we never really talk about it. And I know you go to church with your parents every Sunday and—”
“Bo,” I said, putting a hand on her arm. “Honestly? At first, I … I was uncomfortable. I didn’t say anything about it because I liked you, and I didn’t want to push you away. But … the more time I’ve sorta sat with it … Yeah. My preacher has always said it’s a sin to be with people of the same sex. But my parents always taught me that being a good person matters more than anything. And you’re a good person.”
“Not everybody thinks so.”
“Well, they’re wrong,” I said. “You are. And you kissing a girl might be a sin, but me sleeping with a boy I’m not married to? That’s definitely a sin. And the truth is, I don’t regret that at all. So, the way I see it, I’m nobody to judge.”
“So … you’re all right with it, then? Me being … bisexual, I guess? I ain’t never used that word before, but … you’re all right with it?”
“I think so. As long as you’re okay with me fornicating with your cousin.”
She laughed and leaned back against the windshield again. “Oh shit, Agnes. If people only knew. Slutty Bo Dickinson’s a virgin who kisses girls, and sweet, innocent Agnes is fucking an older guy. A no-good Dickinson, to boot. I think I’ve about ruined you, Agnes Atwood.”
“No,” I said, sliding over and leaning my head on her shoulder. “You’ve made me better.”
In a couple hours we’d have to drive the car back to Bo’s trailer and walk to my house, pretending like we’d taken the bus. We’d have to go back to all the rules and the worries and the eyes watching us both.
But for that moment, on the hood of that car down by a dirty brown river, just Bo and me and nobody else—
For just that moment, everything was perfect.
I walk along the shoulder of the road with my thumb out, both hoping and scared somebody’ll stop for me.
It ain’t until now that I think how dangerous this might be. I’m a girl. I’m alone. And I’m small. I can throw a good punch, and I’ve fought with girls twice my size. And maybe I kicked that jerk’s ass last night, but he was scrawny. And drunk. And Agnes had helped some. There’s no chance I’m a match for someone big and sober. Not alone.
But I can’t think what other choice I got now.
I go maybe half a mile down the highway before somebody stops. It’s a truck. A big eighteen-wheeler. And when it stops next to me, I try not to panic. The window rolls down, and I take a step back.
“Where you headed, honey?”
It’s a woman’s voice, though. Deep and raspy, but definitely a woman. And I feel awful relieved.
I tell her Daddy’s last known address. I got it memorized by now.
“I oughta be driving right through there,” she says. “Get on in. You can help me stay awake.”
It takes an effort to climb up into the truck. My legs are too short. And after I try a couple times I feel a soft, wrinkled hand take hold of my arm.
“Come on,” the driver grunts as she helps pull me up.
Between the two of us, I finally manage.
And I see who’s picking me up. She’s small and old. With hair the color of steel, pulled back into a bun. She’s missing a few teeth, too, but she’s got a nice, round face.
“I’m Pat,” she says, getting the truck rolling again. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Bo.”
“Bo,” she repeats. “I like that. Why you out here alone, Bo? Where’s your mama? You can’t be more than fourteen or so, right?”
“Seventeen,” I say. “Just small.”
“Still too young to be on the side of the highway in the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, well … that wasn’t the plan.”
Pat asks a lot of questions. About Mama. About where I’m headed. About why I’m alone. I don’t say a whole lot, though. Just one- or two-word answers.
I’m still thinking about Agnes. About the things she said.
All of it was true. I just never thought she’d be the one to say it.
It ain’t quite midnight when Pat says, “We’ll be there in a minute or two.”
I grab my stuff. She can’t take me all the way to Daddy’s house, but she can drop me on the highway. She even gives me directions, saying she’s been in these parts before, and it ain’t more than a five-minute walk to his front door.
I’m careful climbing out of the truck. And when I’m on the ground, Pat says one last thing.
“Good luck. And be safe, all right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thanks for the ride.”
She drives off as I start walking the direction she pointed me. The little town is dark. Not too many streetlamps. And most of the windows in the houses and trailers I pass ain’t got light in them. But I manage to find the tiny brick house with Daddy’s address on the mailbox. And there’s a lamp on in the front room.
I walk up to the doorstep and then just stand there.
It’s late. And he might be in bed. Or he might not even live here. Colt said his daddy ain’t even heard from him in a while. I might be standing on somebody else’s doorstep in the middle of the night. And I ain’t sure how welcoming people are around here. This is Kentucky, after all. People got guns, and they use them.
At least in Mursey, they knew me. They might not like me, but they probably wouldn’t shoot me.
In this town, at midnight, I’m a stranger.
I take a deep breath and knock anyway.
There are voices inside. But then the door opens. And I know the man in front of me. No mistaking him.
Red-gold hair.
Eyes the color of sweet tea.
A couple scars from bar fights and brawls.
This ain’t no stranger. But he’s sure looking at me like I’m one.
“Hey, Daddy.”
He looks like he don’t know me. Like he’s never seen me before in his life.
“It’s me, Daddy,” I say. I reach up and touch my hair. “I know. With it cut this short I probably look like a boy, right? But it’s me … It’s Bo.”
“Bo,” he says. “Bo … what’re you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” Despite all the bad that’s happened tonight, I can’t help smiling. “God, I’ve sure missed you. Can I come in?”
“Uh—well, you see …”
“Wayne? Who’s out there?” It’s a woman’s voice, coming from inside the house.
“Nobody!” Daddy yells, and I try not to take it person
al. “Listen, Bo—”
But I guess the woman didn’t like Daddy’s answer, because now she’s standing behind him, looking over his shoulder at me. She’s tall—taller than him—and with peroxide-blond hair. Except for the roots, which look about as dark as Agnes’s hair. Her eyes are dark, too, and right now, they’re narrowed. And even if her sight is as bad as Agnes’s, there ain’t no way she’s gonna miss the resemblance between Daddy and me.
“Nobody, huh?” she says.
Daddy looks scared. “Vera, this … this is Bo.”
“Hi,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”
But Vera don’t look like she feels the same. “Bo?” She says it like a question and an accusation rolled up in one. And even though she’s looking at Daddy now, he don’t look back.
“How’d you get here?” he asks me. “And where’s your mama?”
“It’s a real long story,” I tell him. “But that’s why I’m here, actually.” And then, because I’m still out on the porch, I ask one more time, “Can I come in?”
Vera looks like she wants to say no, but Daddy steps aside and lets me walk through the door, into the living room. There’s an old beige sofa sitting against the wall, facing a little box TV. There are kids’ toys all over the floor, too. Blocks and toy soldiers and even a teddy bear missing an eye.
“I’d better go check on Brent,” Vera says. “Make sure the knocking didn’t wake him up.”
When she’s gone, I turn to Daddy. “Who’s Brent?”
“Our son.”
“I got a little brother?” I ask.
He don’t answer. Just jumps right back into his questions. “What’s going on, Bo?”
“Right.” I sit down on the couch. “Things have been real rough with Mama lately. She’s been using a lot, and a few days ago—”
“Are you here asking for money?”
“What? No,” I say. “Nothing like that.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because … you’re my dad,” I say. “And right now I ain’t got nowhere else to go, so …”
He blinks at me, like he’s still confused. Just then, Vera comes back around the corner. And the crease between her eyes says she’s disappointed I ain’t left yet. Which makes my next words even harder. So I keep my eyes on Daddy.