Between, Georgia (34 page)

“Are you kissing Henry Crabtree?” Fisher asked.

“You bet.”

“Well, but the car’s stopped,” Fisher said. “Can’t we put the top down now?”

“Why not,” I said. “Give me a hand, Henry?” He kissed me again and then reluctantly let me go. He walked around my car, and we put the top down. Henry secured the passenger’s side while I did the driver’s.

“Buckle back in, Woolly-Worm. We have to get on the road,”

I said to Fisher.

Henry said, “I better return that car. Maybe Thig can shut it off.”

I couldn’t stop grinning at him. “You are going to get arrested.”

“Nah,” Henry said. “You know my girlfriend? Her aunt pretty much owns the sheriff in this town.”

He walked away into the lights and got back in his screaming stolen car. He pulled onto 78, and the wailing grew fainter and then disappeared as he exited to circle back to Between.

I got in my Mustang. Fisher was safely buckled up in back.

“Ready?”

“Go!” said Fisher, and the Frett in me checked carefully for traffic just before the Crabtree peeled out, spraying gravel to make Fisher giggle. I accelerated up to the speed limit. In my rearview mirror, I could see Fisher’s fists rising up against a background of blue sky. She unfolded her hands, opening them wide, her fingers spreading to catch the wind as we roared down the highway.

“Nonny?” she called. “Nonny? It’s like we’re flying!”

And it was.