I DROPPED ONTO the rickety bench outside the Stop and Go. Cole, who was lying facedown on the other end, yelped and clung to it like a city kid on a skittish horse.
“Dude, don’t do that.” He hung his head off the end of the bench with his knuckles dragging on the dusty sidewalk. “It’s too hot.”
I just groaned and squinted at Luke and Caleb tossing a baseball back and forth in the street. Even though it was the main drag in Evansville, the street was empty. If a car happened by, it was more likely to drive around the twins than make a fuss. The heat was too stifling to care about much, and my flip-flops looked a little melted. The Stop and Go was air-conditioned, but it came down to a choice: walk around in the store or lounge outside. Sitting won out because we’d spent most of the morning making a last ditch-effort to find Beatrice. She’d been missing for nearly two weeks and Mom had decided it was time to worry. She and Aunt Calla organized a search, one in which they didn’t participate. When it came up empty, they decided to put up reward flyers with a grainy picture of Beatrice. My sisters, and Frank were inside the Stop and Go, making copies of the flyers, and buying supplies for hanging them.
“You bastard!” Luke went down on one knee and Caleb laughed. Luke grabbed the ball and winged it at Caleb, clocking him on the left shoulder.
“Oh fucker! You are going to die!” Caleb went after the ball, gave it a serious windup and threw it at Luke. He dove out of the way, but the ball still caught him on the ankle.
Luke screamed in pain and lay writhing on the asphalt when Mom and Aunt Calla came out of the Stop and Go.
“What’s this?” said Aunt Calla. “When bored, try and kill your brother?”
“I wasn’t trying to kill him, just maim him a little,” said Caleb. He picked up the ball and tossed it in the air. He looked as if he was considering hitting Luke again.
“There’s no such thing as a little maiming,” said Aunt Calla. “If there was, I’d have maimed you a long time ago. You two are the height of irritation.”
Mom passed out stacks of flyers. I looked at the flyer and let out a whoosh of breath. Anybody who didn’t know Beatrice could never identify her from the picture. There was still a chance of getting through the rest of the summer without her being found.
Mom poked my shoulder. “I see that smile, boy.”
“What?” I asked.
“I know the picture’s rotten, but they don’t really need a picture, do they?”
“What do you mean?”
“How many llamas do you think are running around loose in this neck of the woods?”
Damn. She was right, but there was a chance Beatrice was dead. Greenbow might’ve killed her. Nobody was seriously entertaining that possibility, except April and me. I couldn’t tell Mom about Greenbow, because that meant admitting I’d been off Ernest’s land and there was no way I was doing that.
Aunt Calla divided us into teams and ordered us to put a flyer in every shop window. We’d meet at the Dairy Delight afterwards. The operation took an hour, since Evansville wasn’t very big. Frank and I were the last to arrive. The rest of The Pack licked soft-serve ice-cream cones and rubbed their missed drips into the wooden picnic tables outside the Dairy Delight.
“Finally,” said Luke. “You took forever. We’ve been thinking. It’s time for another visit to Miss Pritchett’s.”
“Oh.” I found a bit of shade and flopped down on the sticky concrete to try and eat in peace.
“Yeah,” said Luke. “It’s been a while since we screwed with her and Caleb came up with a brilliant plan.”
Caleb bowed his head. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“No, Luke. It’s not right,” said April. “She’s hurt.”
“Her accident was at least a week ago. Right, Puppy?” said Caleb.
“What accident?” We looked up and saw Shasta standing at the edge of the overhang. She had on a silver bikini top with a multitude of matching bracelets and a pair of white shorts that made her tan look incredible. A new henna tattoo curved its way around her calf in flowers and complex swirls. I wrenched my eyeballs away and tried to concentrate on my ice cream, but my gaze kept wandering back to Shasta’s slender leg and up to her thigh.
“Our neighbor had a car accident,” said Caleb.
“You mean the teacher, Miss Pritchett?” she asked.
“Yeah, about a week ago,” said Luke.
“Really? I hadn’t heard that.” Shasta looked down at me. Her long dark hair hung loose around her shoulders like the Madonna’s veil. Her face impassive, but her eyes intense.
“Puppy saw her and said she was pretty beat up,” said April. “Didn’t you, Pup?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What happened to the car?” Shasta said.
I licked a drip off my hand. “I don’t know.”
“Well, was it the front end or the rear?” asked Ella.
“I didn’t look.”
“If the car wasn’t beat up, how do you know she had a car accident?” said Shasta.
“It could’ve been the truck.”
“No, it couldn’t. I just saw it down at the liquor store. It was fine.” Shasta held her hand out to me, her bracelets clinking. “Maybe I just didn’t see the right side. Let’s take a look.”
I took her hand without thinking, and then wished I hadn’t. Her hand was cool, despite the heat of the day, and mine was so sweaty it felt like I’d dipped it in olive oil.
Shasta pulled me down the sidewalk until I was nearly jogging and had to suck in the thick air. Waves of heat curled up off the concrete and distorted the view of the street. My cone drooled down my hand, but I didn’t have time to lick it. We turned the corner onto Main Street, Shasta dropped my hand and pushed my shoulder.
“So I guess you didn’t leave Greenbow alone?” she said.
“No, but we didn’t get caught.”
“Yet.” Her eyes were dark with an emotion I couldn’t read.
“We’re not stupid.”
“You went off Ernest’s land.”
“He wanted me to go,” I said without thinking.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing. Who wanted you to go?”
“Nobody. Come on.”
I walked away, hoping she’d follow. She did, for the three blocks to the liquor store. I turned into the alley next to the store, and then leaned on the brick wall.
“Did you see Ernest?” Shasta chose a spot on the wall next to me. She looked straight ahead at the opposite wall of the card store. Tiny sparkling beads of sweat decorated the bridge of her perfect nose, diamonds on a wedding band.
“No,” I said.
“You can tell me. I won’t say anything,” she said.
“I know.”
“Well, the truck looks fine to me.”
“We didn’t see the other side,” I said. “Let’s take a look.”
Shasta grabbed my arm, but I slithered out of her grasp and went around to the front of the store.
Shasta followed. “We don’t have to…”
I glanced back when she trailed off, just in time to see her eyes go wide as she stepped back.
“What?” I asked.
She grabbed my hand again and pulled me back.
“Well, well, look who’s here,” said an oily voice behind me.
Jason Greenbow exited the liquor store. He wore a telephone company jumpsuit and carried two cases of beer with a fifth of cheap whiskey balanced on top. His face split into a wide grin with yellow teeth surrounded by greasy black stubble. He packed a lot of sleazy into that smile, but he wasn’t smiling at me. He only saw Shasta. His eyes went up and down her form, lazy and bold. He had no right. No right at all.
“Let’s go,” Shasta said, tugging on my arm.
That’s when Jason Greenbow noticed me. “This your boyfriend?” He made boyfriend sound as plausible as rap star or underwear model.
“Let’s go.” Shasta pulled my arm, but I didn’t budge. My face burned, hot as the asphalt I was standing on. I’d knock that smile right off Greenbow’s face.
“You got something to say to me, boy?” Greenbow asked.
“Puppy.” Shasta pulled again.
“Puppy? That your name? Figures.”
A vehicle drove up beside us. “Shasta, we have got to go now.”
I broke my gaze with Greenbow and saw Marion Klaas in her truck, motioning for Shasta to hurry up.
Shasta squeezed my arm. “Come on. We’ll give you a ride.”
Greenbow laughed. The sound was deep and guttural. “I’ll give you a ride, little girl, and you won’t forget it.”
“You better shut up,” I said.
Marion honked the horn and Shasta pulled me off the sidewalk into the truck.
Greenbow shouted after us, “Some other time. I guarantee it.”
Marion did a U-turn. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing,” said Shasta.
“I have a feeling your nothing covers a multitude of sins,” said Marion.
Shasta wrapped her arms around her torso. She shivered despite the heat of the unairconditioned truck. Marion’s eyes got glassy and she pulled Shasta tight to her side. Shasta covered her eyes and her bracelets slid down her arms, revealing rings of bruises around both of her slender wrists.
“It’s all right,” said Marion. “We’ll figure something out.”
I didn’t say anything. For once, I knew to stay quiet. I’d teach that Greenbow a lesson and he wouldn’t forget it. I’d never see Shasta curled up and shivering again.
The evening was cool and clear. Mom had taken a rare break from working and spent the afternoon making graham cracker crusts and mounds of chocolate mousse. She scooped mousse into the first pie pan and smoothed it with a rubber spatula.
“Puppy, why don’t you get started on the whipped cream,” she said.
I poured a quart of heavy whipping cream into the mixer and ignored the sideways glances she kept giving me.
“Don’t forget the vanilla.”
“I won’t.” I turned the mixer on and threw a few tablespoons of sugar into the swirling cream.
“Marion called,” said Mom.
I poured a teaspoon of vanilla in and watched it blend.
“She says you had a run-in with that Jason Greenbow character.”
“I wouldn’t call it a run-in,” I said.
“He upset Shasta.”
“I know.”
Mom sprinkled ancho chili powder over the mousse, her secret ingredient. “You stay close to Shasta, okay? He gets near her you stand between them.”
“You want me to pick a fight with Jason Greenbow?”
“I want you to protect Shasta. It’s not the same thing.”
“You don’t want me to keep my head down, stay out of trouble?”
“When have I ever said that?”
“Never, I guess.” I went to turn off the mixer and Mom put her hand over mine. The mixer kept whirling.
“What did he say to Shasta when you were getting in Marion’s truck?” asked Mom.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to pull my hand out from under hers.
“Marion said he said something. She didn’t quite catch it. It freaked out Shasta. What was it?”
I flushed and avoided Mom’s eyes.
“Puppy, tell me what he said.”
“He said, ‘I’ll give you a ride, little girl, and you won’t forget it.’”
Mom let me turn off the mixer and dipped a spoon in the whipped cream. “Perfect.”
“Are you going to tell Marion?”
“No need. She won’t be the one to take care of Greenbow. Dessert’s ready. Go round everyone up.” She pushed me toward the door and turned back to the pies.
As I walked out of the kitchen, Mom began singing softly behind me. “It’s early morning. The sun comes out.”
Only Mom could turn a rock anthem into a love song to be sung over pie. I left her behind, singing away, and went through the house yelling about dessert. I found Caleb next to the door to Aunt Calla’s porch.
“Shut up,” he whispered. “Can’t you hear that?”
I listened. “What?”
“She’s singing.”
Then I heard it.
“The bitch is hungry. She needs to tell.” sang Aunt Calla.
“So,” I said. “They sing all the time.”
“Not that song. Don’t you remember what happened to that old lady on Tyler Street?”
Luke ran in. “Quick. Close all the windows.”
“What the hell for?” I asked.
Thunder rolled over the house, shaking the doors and startling me.
“Where are Ella and April?” asked Caleb.
“I’ll find them,” said Luke.
“Puppy, make sure Cole and Frank are inside,” said Caleb. “I’ll start on the windows.”
I found Cole and Frank sacked out on their bunk beds. I shook them awake. “Get up and help me close the windows.”
“What for?” asked Cole. “It’s not going to rain.”
A crack of lightning contradicted him, and we ran around closing windows as a tremendous downpour started. I sprinted to Mom’s porch and rolled down the heavy canvas shades she had made for such emergencies. Outside, the chickens ran to their coop, already soaked. Emily, the good llama, peeked out of her shed, patiently chewing her cud.
Before I rolled down the last shade, I stopped to watch the storm. It boiled above Camp in great rolling coils of grey. Lightening zigzagged out of the clouds, multi-pronged and wicked. The wind drove the rain in through the screen, pebbling my skin with hard drops.
“Close that,” yelled Ella. “Mom’s stuff is going to get soaked.”
The cloud’s shapes were so familiar. Something about them wanted me to remember something I’d long forgotten.
“Do you see something out there?” asked Ella.
“I guess not,” I said, closing the last shade.
Ella and I went back to the kitchen. Everyone was digging into pie, except Frank who was sitting in a corner looking terrified as usual. I don’t know what he was so worried about. The lightning was nowhere near us. He let Cole have his piece and Cole tried to shove it in his mouth whole. Just the kind of thing that would’ve tipped Mom off that he was the one spilling all the milk in the kitchen, but Mom wasn’t paying attention. She was spreading the last of the whipped cream, still singing.