Those Girls (6 page)

“We’re going to have to leave in a couple of days,” Dani said. “He won’t let us stay—he’ll put us in foster homes.”

“You don’t have to go—you’re almost eighteen. You could move out with Corey. We could just go into a home together, me and Courtney.”

Courtney looked like she was going to cry. “It would just be for a couple of years,” she said. “We could make it work.”

“No,” Dani said. “We have to stay together and it’s too risky staying here.”

“We don’t have any money to start over anywhere else,” Courtney said.

“I should just turn myself in,” I said.

Dani grabbed my shoulders hard.

“No one is going to the police. You’re not going to jail, and you’re not going to foster care.”

“This is my fault,” Courtney said.

“No, it’s Dad’s fault,” Dani said. She let go of my shoulders, but looked in my eyes. “He was going to
kill
Courtney—you had to do it.”

I pushed my bowl of soup away.

“I’m scared,” I said.

“We’re all scared,” Dani said, pushing the bowl back to me.

*   *   *

Courtney and Dani were waiting for me outside the barn after I finished work the next day. We used to walk home alone or Dani would go to her boyfriend’s, but now we stuck together. When we got to our house, a box was on our front steps. Inside there was some food, dried pasta, canned meats, soup, and even a few pairs of old jeans and some shirts. I remembered that the sergeant had some daughters a few years older than us. Then we noticed the dusty boot print on the porch. He’d dropped off the box himself. Had he been looking through the window? We checked around the house for footsteps. There was a boot print near the shed.

It was time to leave.

Dani drove to Corey’s. When she got home, her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She went straight into her room and wouldn’t come out for hours.

Courtney shouted through the door that she was taking the truck and Dani didn’t say anything. Courtney grabbed her guitar and headed out the front door.

“Where are you going?” I yelled after her. “Can I come?”

“Stay with Dani.”

I wondered if she was going to see a boy and felt frustrated, helpless. She was going to get us in more trouble. Dani should’ve stopped her. I paced the house until I calmed down. It would be okay, Courtney was smart.

I walked to the farm and stole some eggs from the henhouse, then picked some chives from the garden and some tomatoes and green peppers from the greenhouse, hoping Ingrid and Walter didn’t see me. I shooed one of the border collies who was following me around, his tail wagging.

I made Dani scrambled eggs and knocked softly on her door.

“Made you some dinner, Dani.” No answer. I went back downstairs and fed myself but left her plate under a cover.

She came down five minutes later, her face splotchy, and picked at her eggs, then gave me heck for leaving a mess in the kitchen.

“And what the hell were you thinking, stealing that stuff? You should always have one of us with you for a lookout.”

“Sorry, Dani.” I smiled, happy that she was angry at me. Meant she was feeling better.

Courtney came home when I was doing the dishes. She gave me a wan smile and a “Hey.”

“Where you been?” Dani called out from the living room, where she was packing some of our framed photographs into a box.

“Selling my guitar.”

Dani came in. “What the hell? Why?”

“We need the money and I don’t plan on singing anymore.” She touched her burn. “I’ll never make it big with this on my face.”

“That’s stupid, Courtney,” I said. “You’re still beautiful.”

“No. I’m not. And even if I were, I’m done with singing.”

Dani and I looked at each other.

“We should go to Cash Creek first,” Courtney said. “Troy, he’d lend us some money. We’re going to need a lot for fake ID.” Cash Creek was a small town about two and a half hours southwest of Littlefield. We’d heard it was nothing but farmers and fields. Everyone had felt sorry for Troy when he had to move.

“We can’t let anyone know where we’re going,” Dani said.

“He wouldn’t say anything—especially if he gives us money.” Troy dealt drugs, mostly just weed, but he always had cash on him. “He told me they were moving to a trailer park—I’m sure we can find his car easy.”

Dani thought it over for a minute. “Okay.”

*   *   *

That night we packed up. I had some books, clothes, my camera, envelopes full of photos—we didn’t have any family albums. Dad had trashed them all when he was drunk one night. But I had my favorite photo of Mom from when she’d won a fishing derby and posed in front of the tackle shop, her hair wild under her hat, a big smile on her face. I tucked the photo inside one of my books, then shoved everything into a packsack. I also still had the camera lens and film Dad had brought home for me, but I pushed them to the bottom of my bag.

Courtney packed almost all her clothes and cosmetics. She was going to leave her songwriting books, but we made her take them. We stored a few things in the shed and dragged out the old tent and camping equipment.

We argued about whether to tell Ingrid and Walter or just leave a note. I wanted to tell them.

“They depend on our showing up,” I said. “And Ingrid will be upset, she’ll be worried.”

“That’s exactly why we can’t tell her. She’ll have too many questions.” Dani mimicked Ingrid’s rough voice, her hands on her hips. “Where are you going? What aunt? How come you never mentioned her before? Maybe we should talk to the sergeant and see if anyone’s heard from your father lately.”

“We have to write a note, Jess,” Courtney said.

“They’re going to think it’s weird,” I said.

“They’re going to think whatever we do is weird,” Dani said. “But if we leave tonight, we have a few hours’ head start before anyone starts looking for us.”

I hated it but they were right. We rehearsed a few different ways of saying it, and in the end they got me to write the note—I had the best handwriting.

Dear Walter and Ingrid,

Thanks for letting us stay. We really appreciate everything you’ve done for us and are really sorry to be leaving you. Our dad hasn’t come home and we’re out of money, so we’re going to stay with our aunt in Edmonton. If he shows up, tell him we’re at Helen’s.

Love, Jess, Dani, Courtney

We waited until two in the morning, when we figured the streets would be the quietest, taped the note to the front door, and drove off. As soon as we got out of town and the wooden sign for Littlefield disappeared in our rearview mirror, I was filled with apprehension. What was going to happen to us? Would Walter send the cops after us? Would they find some blood in the house? Had we missed something? We’d taken the gun—it was under the bench seat. If we got pulled over we’d be in trouble for having it, but that was the least of our problems.

“You should try to get some rest,” Dani told us.

But we couldn’t sleep. We talked a little about what Vancouver would be like, where we’d stay. Dani figured we’d find a youth hostel. Then we’d find jobs, maybe cleaning or waitressing. Dani wanted to see if there were any farms on the outskirts that were looking for workers. We’d have to get new ID right away—none of us had a social insurance number—but we didn’t know where to start. Dani said we’d just have to find out where the rough section of town was, like where drug dealers hung out, then we could ask.

After we stole the gas we drove for another hour, through small towns and farmland, lakes and valleys lining the roads. The towns were dark at this time of night, our only company on the road the occasional truck. Dani fell asleep at the wheel once, swerving onto the dry shoulder, only waking when we yelled at her, so we pulled off onto a side road and spread out our sleeping bags in the back of the truck. We’d planned on getting up early, but we were all exhausted and woke with the sun beaming down on us, our bodies stiff and sore. We drank some water, ate some of our food, brushed our teeth—spitting into the ditch—and got back on the road. If we found Troy without too much trouble, we figured we could still make it to Vancouver by the afternoon.

“We’ll go to the beach on your birthday,” Dani said.

“That’d be cool.” I tried not to think about my father’s presents, how days earlier they’d been all I wanted.

A half hour later when we were getting close to Cash Creek, steam started coming up through the hood, then billowed out in big gusts.

“What the hell is that?” Courtney said.

“Fuck if I know,” Dani said as we pulled onto the side of the road. We all piled out and looked at the truck. Water was dripping out from below.

“Is it the radiator?” I said.

“Probably. Shit.” Dani kicked the tire.

“We’re going to have to hitch to town,” Courtney said.

We grabbed what we could out of the back—water, our packsacks, some of the food—and started walking. We had to leave the rifle under the front seat and I worried about someone breaking into the truck. We hadn’t gone far, could still see the truck, when we heard the rumble of an engine—a black Ford pulled alongside us. Two guys, maybe in their early twenties, were smiling through the window. The driver, a dark-haired boy with a baseball cap and a white tank top, leaned over the steering wheel.

“Truck break down?”

Keeping her distance from the truck, Dani said, “Yeah, steam started coming out.”

“Probably your radiator or the water pump. I can look at it—I’m a mechanic,” the dark-haired boy said. The other one had brown hair and a big toothy smile, no shirt. He had a farmer’s tan, lines on his neck and arms.

Dani turned, met our eyes.

Courtney shook her head. “We should just walk to town.”

Dani whispered back, “It’ll take too long.”

The boys glanced at each other. The dark-haired one shrugged.

“It’s cool if you don’t want help. We can send the tow truck back, cost you about a hundred.”

The other boy chimed in, “Or if you want to walk, probably take you an hour.” The heat was already waving off the road, sucking at our skin.

Dani said, “If you could take a look, that’d be great.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Yep, it’s definitely the water pump,” the dark-haired boy said, his head under the hood. His name was Brian and he was tall and thin with dark round eyes, dark eyebrows and lashes, a small nose and mouth, and a necklace with a bullet on it. His faded jeans had rips in the knees and old stains, and his boots were scuffed and coated with dried mud. He smelled of grease and cigarettes.

His brother, Gavin, didn’t really look like him, with lighter hair and a wide mouth full of white teeth. He was also bulkier, broad shouldered, and moved slower, but he was tall too. He had a different way of looking at you. Brian’s eyes were lively, and he spoke quickly, breaking into laughter a lot. His gaze darted around, his hands fast and confident as he checked things under the hood. Gavin was more watchful, quieter.

Gavin was sitting on the tailgate now, taking long pulls from a beer. They’d handed us each one—ice-cold from a beer cooler, condensation dripping down the sides, and we guzzled them eagerly while I kept a wary eye on the boys. My camera was around my neck, and I rested one of my hands on the strap, the worn leather familiar and reassuring. I could tell my sisters were also uncomfortable. Courtney kept her face turned away, her fingers playing with the label on her beer. Dani’s answers were stiff when they asked where we were from—she said Golden, a town a couple of hours north of Littlefield. She’d told them her name was Leanne, and we’d also given fake names. Courtney was Sandy and I was Heather, the name of a girl who sat behind me in class for years.

The boys didn’t seem to notice our nerves, or didn’t care. They were friendly and smiled lots, Brian telling us about how he worked at his uncle’s garage in town, Gavin teasing him for being a grease monkey.

“Our dad’s got a big spread,” Gavin said. “Three hundred head of cattle but we’ve got some horses, too. Brian, he’s always working on the tractors. Can’t keep him away from an engine.” He laughed.

With country music playing on their truck radio, empties rolling around in the back, and cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, they could have been any of the kids we grew up with, and I began to relax. Courtney started smiling once in a while at something they said, and Dani asked a few questions about their ranch.

“I might be able to find a water pump in the wrecking yard,” Brian said. “But it’ll take a couple of days. You girls in a hurry?”

“Yeah, we’re meeting with our aunt,” I said.

Dani shot me a dirty look, annoyed at me for answering first. “How much will it cost?”

“Fifty for the part if I can find an old one, but it could be tough. New one will cost you about a hundred fifty, and a couple hours’ labor. Then there’s the tow truck. So maybe about three hundred altogether.”

Dani winced. “We don’t have any money.”

Brian glanced at Gavin. “We could probably find some work for you on our ranch,” he said, “fixing fences or cleaning stalls for cash. And we got a spot where you girls could camp.”

Dani gnawed her lip. “You know a guy named Troy Dougan?”

“Troy?” Brian laughed. “Everyone knows Troy. Why you asking?”

“He’s a friend of a friend. If you give us a lift to town, we can give him a call.” I was relieved. I liked that idea a lot better than staying with these guys.

“Too bad. Troy just left to go camping for a couple of weeks.” Brian said it like he felt bad for us, but I kind of got the feeling he was maybe a little happy.

Courtney looked upset, and Dani just looked pissed off.

“If we camp on your property, your parents won’t mind?” Dani said.

“We won’t tell them you’re camping,” Gavin said. “As long as you don’t have a fire, should be all right.”

“You can make enough to buy the part,” Brian said. “My uncle will want you to pay for shop time, but I’ll chip in my labor for free.”

“Why would you do that?” Courtney said, frowning.

He smiled big. “I’m a nice guy.”

“You gonna say we owe you something else?” she said.