Dead Ends (22 page)

“And
It ain't easy bein' green
,” Billy recited at a glance from the bottom of the Colorado map. His hand finally dropped, and he moved it instead to the atlas, fingering the clue written by his dad.

“Exactly,” Seely said. “The clue for Kermit, Texas.” She nodded at me and the letter in my hands. “It's an answer key.”

A quick scan of the letter proved she was right. Billy's dad revealed all the solutions in exactly the order Seely had plotted. Texas led to Washington, then to Florida, Alabama, Montana, Ohio, and so on. Finally, in two quick sentences, he solved the clue that had taken us weeks to figure out—and the one we never did.

If you never give up, you'll Neverfail.

And if you're ever Barefoot in Kentucky, I'll meet you in Monkey's Eyebrow.

“That's it.” I turned the paper over to confirm the backside was blank before passing it to Billy.

He pressed it flat on the coffee table and leaned low over it, as if getting closer to the ink itself would somehow get him closer to an explanation. The silence that fell in the garage made the pounding of rain on the roof even louder.

“Monkey's Eyebrow,” Seely said after a moment. “That can't be right.”

“Yeah, it is,” Billy said. He grabbed the atlas and opened it to Tennessee, where the final clue anchored the page. “Read it,” he ordered Seely.

She sighed. “
In the place with no shoes, it's neither city nor town
—”

“Barefoot, Kentucky—just like you said.” Billy beamed at Seely. “Keep going,” he insisted.

Seely went on. “
Your favorite and mine
—”

“Dane, remember I told you? Dad and I spent the whole day at the monkey cage at the zoo.”

“Yeah, I remember but—”

“Monkeys are my
favorite
. And—” He looked at the map for the end of the clue.
Plus what's paired with a frown
. “Eyebrow?”

“Sure,” Seely said. “You know, when you frown, you kind of scrunch up your eyebrows.” She made an exaggerated sour face, which cracked Billy up. “But I thought the last clue would lead
back to New York to make a circle.” She flipped the atlas to the New York map. “Nope. Nothing here.”

Billy looked first at me, then at Seely, and whispered in a conspiratorial voice. “I know where it is.”

I knew, too. It was one of the towns already marked on Billy's maps—or not a town really, but one of the places Billy had written in. I reached down to turn the atlas to Kentucky.

“Here, right?” I pointed out the spot at the very top edge of Kentucky's bumpy western border, where the state slipped under Illinois and winked at southern Missouri.

“Yeah,” Billy said.

“But there's no clue on this page,” Seely said. “So now what?”

“So it's either a dead end, or—” I sucked in a breath. It was possible. Anything was possible. Maybe Billy's dad had known what was coming. Maybe he'd guessed that Billy's mom might take him away. I don't know how he ever expected Billy to find him with such a complicated trail, but it had to be complicated, to keep Billy's mom from figuring it out.

“He's there,” Billy said, his eyes all light and hope.

“He
could
be there,” I agreed. I was excited by the possibility, but I wasn't completely convinced Billy's dad was actually in this not-really-a-town in Kentucky, and I didn't want Billy to be let down if we were wrong.

We both looked at Seely for confirmation.

“I suppose we could do an Internet search.” She sounded hesitant.

“Yeah, what are we waiting for? Fire up the computer,” I said. “See if there's a Paul Drum in Monkey's Eyebrow.”

Seely chewed a fingernail.

“What's the big deal?” I asked. “If he's not there—”

“He
is
there,” Billy stressed.

“Oh yeah. Yeah, sure he is. We just have to figure out how to get in touch with him,” I said.

Seely took the letter gently from Billy and sat back to read, still munching on her nails.

Billy shoved the atlas inside his backpack and forced the pack's zipper closed. “We don't have to check. We have to go home.”

“Right now?” Seely looked up from the letter.

Billy held his hand out for it. She started to give it to him but pulled back at the last second, clutching it in both hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked her. “Give him his letter.”

“I just don't understand,” Seely said. “Some of this doesn't make sense.”

“Oh,” Billy said. “Sometimes he calls me Buddy. It's like a nickname. That's when you call someone something that's not really their name, but they still know you mean them when you say it.”

“No, not the greeting,” Seely said, frustrated. She moved her head back and forth as she read the words on the paper. “
Daddies say things they don't mean
and
do things they wish they could take back
? What is that?”

Billy suddenly became very distracted, tightening the straps on his backpack and making sure his shoes were tied.

“Billy D.?” Seely said.

“I don't know.” Billy threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. “It doesn't mean anything.”

Billy took the letter from Seely, folded it carefully, and tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans. Then he marched out the garage door without so much as saying good-bye.

I started to follow him, but Seely caught my arm and pulled me back.

“Dane, it
does
mean something. You know it does.”

“It could mean anything,” I said. I took her hand from my arm and held it. “I think his dad
was
a cheater—or at least some kind of jerk to Billy's mom. And I think maybe Billy knew about it and just doesn't want to say so.”

“It's more than that.” Seely stared down at our hands wrapped around each other. “The atlas was a really special gift to make, and the letter in the back is like the secret surprise at the end.”

“So?”

Seely chewed a fingernail on her free hand. “So why would his dad start that letter with an apology?”

“Who knows? Maybe things got really ugly before his parents split up. Maybe he saw something or heard something—”

Seely shook her head. “But even then, I'm sure he wouldn't use the atlas to say sorry to Billy about cheating on his mom—not in a present like that.”

“Yeah, that does seem weird.” I was feeling kind of stupid, but I didn't have any other ideas, and I wasn't sure it was the big deal Seely was making it out to be.

“It doesn't make sense, unless—”

“Unless what?”

Seely dropped my hand and paced away a few steps. “And
the fact that he's not here in Missouri looking for Billy …,” she muttered almost to herself.

“Seely, what?” I stopped her pacing by hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her body to mine. “What's wrong?”

Seely let out a deep breath. “I think it's a good-bye letter. Dane, maybe Billy's dad was leaving
them
.”

I shook my head fast, but Seely caught my face between her hands and forced me to look into her eyes. In her expression, I could see the parts of the letter she was talking about—the odd apology and the love-you-always message. If you picked apart the pieces, Seely was right. It sounded an awful lot like a man about to walk away from his son.

I had to physically shake my head to knock that thought loose.
No way. No way is Billy's dad like mine. Isn't that the whole point of looking for him? To find the dad worth knowing?

I countered the idea with the memory Billy had of his dad screaming outside the car.
“Don't you take him away from me.”
It was enough to convince me. I didn't know what that letter was all about, and I didn't think the guy was hiding out in Kentucky, but I did believe—wherever he was—he wanted to be found.

And I was going to help Billy find him.

“I'll call you later,” I said.

“But Dane—”

I tried to silence her with a kiss, but she kept talking through our smashed lips until finally we broke away, laughing a little.

“You're impossible.” She was smiling, but there was still something sad in her eyes.

I gave her one more kiss—so hard on the lips she couldn't breathe, let alone talk—then I followed Billy out of the garage and into the storm.

• • • X • • •

Billy had gotten tired of waiting for me, and I had to jog to catch up to him. The rain fell harder with every step toward home, and by the time we reached the bus stop, we were soaked through. Our teeth were chattering too much to talk, and the thunder was too loud and frequent to have a conversation anyway. We rode the bus in silence, concentrating on getting warm, then got drenched and freezing again walking the final leg of the trip home. When we reached the spot in the street between our houses, I stuck an elbow in Billy's ribs.

“Walk to school tomorrow?”

I couldn't see his face well under the big hood of his jacket, but I saw his shoulders lift and fall. “I guess.”

Either the rain had washed away his enthusiasm, or the reality of the situation had finally sunk in. Maybe I wasn't the only one who didn't know what the hell I'd say to my dad if I ever found him.

“You all right?” I asked. But a big clap of thunder drowned out my words, and Billy was already walking away before I could say anything else.

• • • X • • •

I found Mom in the kitchen warming up a cup of coffee in the microwave.

“Hey, sorry I'm late,” I said.

She flattened my cowlick, then ruffled my hair, making it stand up again.

“You're not late,” she said.

“I'm not?”

The digital clock on the microwave flickered 5:16. The dark brought on by the storm had made it feel a lot later.

“You're soaked,” Mom said. “Why didn't you call me to pick you up?”

“Why can't I have a car to pick my
self
up?”

“Dane.”

I shrugged. “I thought you had a class.”

“I do.” She checked her watch. “And I'm late. Gotta run.” She half hugged me with one arm and lifted her coffee to her lips for one last sip with the other. Then she slammed the mug on the kitchen table and rushed out the door.

I sat alone at the kitchen table, smelling Mom's coffee and staring at the hated lottery tickets. I wondered if getting pregnant so young drove Mom nuts, or whether she was always a little off—with her strange theories about luck and life and with that cheery personality that could turn into a temper on a dime. Maybe all the crazy is what drove my dad away. Maybe it wasn't
me
he didn't want.

I couldn't figure out if that thought made me feel better or worse.

A massive wave of thunder shook the front door. I jumped
up from the table, startled, as lightning pierced the windows and lit up the kitchen. The thunder rumbled away, but the sound at the door was constant. I waited a moment, not trusting my own hearing, but the pounding became more insistent. It definitely wasn't thunder.

I peered out the peephole, half expecting to see some crazy meth-head trying to get inside. It wouldn't be the first time. But the only thing I saw was Billy D., soaked to the bone without his jacket and shivering.

I flung the door open.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“I'm f-f-freezing.” Billy was shaking.

I pulled him inside.

“Stay right there,” I commanded. “Don't drip on anything. I'll get you a coat—”

“We have t-t-to g-go,” Billy chattered.

“What? Go where?”

“To find my dad.”

“We are. We're working on it. We're getting closer, right?” I looked at Billy sideways. Had the soggy trip home made him sick? Maybe he had a fever.

“No.” Billy wrapped his arms around himself, and the chattering slowly stopped. “We have to go
now
.”

And then I understood.

“Now? To Monkey's Elbow?”

“Monkey's
Eyebrow
,” he corrected. “We have to go now.”

“Billy D., that's crazy.”

“Why?”

“Well”—I dragged a hand through my hair—“for one thing, Kentucky's gotta be at least a six-hour drive from here. You saw it on the map. We wouldn't get there until the middle of the night.”

“So?”

“So—so—” I spluttered. “So we don't have a way to get there. We don't have a plan. We don't even know if he's there.”

“He
is
there.” Billy raised his voice. “I have to go. You have to drive me. You promised you would help!”

Billy glared at me, not breaking the stare even as raindrops rolled off his forehead onto his heavy eyelids. “You
promised
.”

“We wouldn't find him until morning!” I cried. “We wouldn't get back in time for school tomorrow! I can't skip school, Billy D. I'm one detention away from getting expelled.”

“Fine, I have to go.” Billy turned and stepped back into the storm.

“Billy! Stop!” I followed him right out into the rain. A huge clap of thunder caused us both to flinch. “You know what happens if I get kicked out of school?” I yelled at his back as I chased him down the steps. “That's it! I don't get to come back in a week. It's over. I'm out! Is that what you want?”

We were both in the street now, ankle-deep in water rushing off the road and standing under what felt like Niagara Falls.

Billy spun to look at me, and even through the long bands
of water falling between us, I could see the difference between the raindrops and the tears on his cheeks.

“You promised!” he wailed.

“Stop saying that!”

Billy took two fast steps toward me with his arms out and pushed me—hard.