Signed, Skye Harper (7 page)

Steve came up next to me, Thelma glued to his leg. “Oh, Churchill knew, Miss Jimmie,” Steve said. “In fact, we were thinking of running away together ourselves in my dear parents’ motor home, but you beat us to it. A shotgun wedding in Las Vegas.”

“We were not,” I said to him. Then I looked at Nanny. “We were not.” My voice didn’t have much energy. How did he know we were headed to Las Vegas? The boy was a demon.

My grandmother was a thief, and the boy I loved was a demon liar. And my dog? My dog was a traitor. If we hadn’t been sixty plus miles from home, I woulda walked on back to the house, crawled into bed, and prayed for a hurricane.
{ 102 }

68

Playing

Nanny wouldn’t even look at me.

Her cigarette smoldered.

I came up on her, stepping on tiptoe to avoid her wrath and red ants. “Think about it,” I said. I kept my voice smooth as glass. “Logic tells you. How could I know?”

Nanny didn’t say anything. Boy, was she cross. If she’d had a flyswatter or a paint stirrer, she might have threatened me. Like when I was a kid.

Sheesh! Nanny’s not speaking made me
feel
like I was a little kid.

Fine. I could play this game too! I stomped back to the stolen merchandise and climbed into the front seat.
{ 103 }

69

Too Many Feelings

I spent five minutes trying to pick beggar-lice off my socks and shoelaces. I collected them in a little pile to throw away when it wouldn’t look like I was rolling down the window so I could hear what my grandmother and the stowaway/kidnap victim were talking about.

Behind them, the ocean crashed. There were some awful nice buildings going up along this stretch of the road. I bet it wouldn’t be long before no one could see the ocean at all.

Sigh.

I closed my eyes.

Get past the breakers and I could swim the breast stroke. Great training, an ocean practice. Made pool swimming a breeze.

What was Mark Spitz doing now? They were all in Germany, I knew that. Maybe
he
was swimming in an ocean there. Not that there
was
an ocean there. But there was the English Channel. Sort of.

Could I get good enough to swim the English Channel? Could I try when I was sixteen? Shane Gould was just a little older than me, and she was breaking world records. That gave me—
{ 104 }

There was a tap on the window.

“I gotta calm down some,” Nanny said, when I lowered the glass. “Smoke another cigarette. You let the dog in. The rooster needs a bit more time out here.”

She opened the door, and Thelma jumped in and came up near my feet. I picked at the beggar-lice in her hair. The noon sun burned at us all. Only a few miles of driving comfort, and I was already convinced air-conditioning was a necessity.

Was jail air-conditioned?

Steve clomped into the motor home and sat at the table. I glanced back at him. He watched me through squinty blue eyes. Geez! He could be a model for Sears or in a toothpaste commercial or something.

“I like your dog,” he said after a moment. Just like that! Like he wasn’t a stowaway. My face warmed up with pleasure. “My mother has one the size of a rat.”

I didn’t say anything. I knew what dog Steve was talking about. Everyone who went a half mile of Leon’s knew. Janet Green Simmons carried the bit of a dog around like a loaf of bread or one big shoe. Ugly little thing, that dog was.

I pulled the last of the beggar-lice from Thelma’s belly, and she slipped over to Steve.

“She likes you,” I said, catching my breath at this betrayal, “even if you are a stupid ass.”

My whole body blushed pink as a setting-sun sky. Now I
{ 105 }

was a sinner—a motor-home-car-thief-kidnapping-swearing sinner. Who’d been swimming half nekkid in front of the boy of her dreams, Harlequin-romance style.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “I’m a stupid ass because I wanted to come with you all?”

“You
made
us kidnappers.” I whispered the words between the seats, like that might not make them as real.

He shook his head, and Steve’s blond hair slipped into his eyes. “Naw,” he said. He thumbed his chest. “I am your excuse. You needed a ride. I offered one.”

Huh?

I stared at Steve Simmons.

Wait a minute.

Wait. A. Minute. He was right.

“Close your mouth,” he whispered, “or I am coming in for another kiss. You are tempting me.”

“Gross!” I said, then snapped my mouth shut and turned around and faced the long stretch of road in front of us.
{ 106 }

70

Feeling A-Okay

The second worst thing? Once I got over my shock? The fact that Stephen had tagged along at all. We started back on I-95, Nanny hitting every pothole next to the highway till she got us on the road.

The worst thing?

I was glad he’d come.

When I was sure Nanny wasn’t looking at me, I let myself smile.
{ 107 }

71

The Hows and Whys

“He saw me,” Nanny said. “Sneaking around a few days ago.”

I didn’t answer. Just watched Florida pass my window.

“Said he figured I was up to something the way I checked out the rig. Started it. Drove it up and down the driveway.”

I raised my eyebrows.
Those
were the only clues?

“Packed up some stuff and waited. Then snuck aboard before I even completely made my mind up. This morning.” Nanny stared out at the road. “Early.”

“Well, well, well,” I said.

Because, sometimes
that’s
the best answer to that kind of apology.
{ 108 }

72

Privates

We drove until we reached Jacksonville.

“We need to find a place to park,” Nanny said. “A place to sleep over.” I could see she was nervous as she drove into the traffic of the huge city.

“Look it, Nanny,” I said as we passed the sign saying we were welcome to be here, “this is where you were born.”

“I know that, Winston,” Nanny said.

She was back to normal. As normal as she could be anyway. I could tell by her voice. Maybe she had settled herself down to the fact we were felons. Big time felons.

Nanny stopped at the Sinclair dinosaur station to get fuel.

The attendant got the gas pumping for us, then headed to clean the windows.

“I’m using the potty,” Nanny said.

“We got one in here,” I said. “It’s small, but nice.” Sheesh. I sounded like an advertisement.

Nanny slid out the door. “I wanna relieve myself where I’m still when I sit down. Let Denny out for a minute.”

“Geez, Nanny,” I said. My face turned bright red. I could feel the heat, like an inside-out sunburn.
{ 109 }

Steve watched Nanny leave the motor home. “It’s no big deal,” he said. “We all pee and . . .”

“Thanks,” I said, and watched the attendant scrub at the love-bugs squished on the front windshield.
{ 110 }

73

Sidetracked for a Moment

Nanny came out from the side of the gas station waving a handful of paper.

“What in the world?”

Denny and I stood—well, I stood and he hopped—on the grass where the green Sinclair dinosaur looked off toward the west.

“Are you thinking of my momma?” I asked the dinosaur, turning from my grandmother, who seemed like she was the youngest grandmother anyone knew, the way she trotted out the bathroom waving colored papers over her head.

I petted the dinosaur’s neck as Denny hopped around, pecking at this and that. “My momma is off in Las Vegas. She asked us to come get her.” Both stayed mute, and I felt like I was four all over again, watching Momma drive away and leave me with Nanny and a stuffed teddy bear.

A truck loaded with guys drove past and beeped. One yelled out, “Great chicken, baby!”

Good grief. How could a typical boy not know the difference between a rooster and a chicken? A hot wind tugged at my hair, highway air all around me like a mini tornado, smelling of asphalt and fuel.
{ 111 }

“Come see this, Winston,” Nanny said. She worked her way across the concrete. For a moment the motor home kept me from seeing her, and I had a flash, an almost-not-there flash, of life without her. My heart tried to get free of my body.

“A map,” Nanny hollered, her voice scooting under a couple of cars and our own stolen vehicle. “Show’s the hospital where I was born. And things to do here in Jacksonville.”

She was here still. Here and loud as ever.

“Let’s get going back to Nanny, Denny,” I said, and scooped him up close to my heart, where he looked at me first with one eye and then the other.
{ 112 }

74

Setting Things Straight

“You know,” Nanny said, settling a seat belt across her lap, “the oldest American pachyderm zoo is right here in this city and it’s early yet.”

Thelma looked at Nanny from where her head rested in Steve’s lap. He sat on the built-in sofa, arms stretched out like he was ready to hug the world. Or me. He could hug me. The way Thelma lay there, so relaxed and full of betrayal, I was surprised that Denny hadn’t roosted on Steve’s shoulder.

“Yup, right here in Jacksonville,” Nanny said.

“Take’s a while to fill this tank,” I said, ’cause what else can you say when your grandmother is talking about pachyderms when she should be returning a stolen boy and vehicle and ignoring my ne’er-do-well mother?

“What?” Steve said. He leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“Elephants.” Nanny and I said the word together.

“Oh.” He nodded and sat back on the sofa.

Nanny flapped the pamphlets under my nose. “And there’s a great big ol’ tree. In a park. Protected by the government.”
{ 113 }

I didn’t answer.

“I love elephants,” she whispered. She tapped at her lips like she held a cigarette between her fingers.

“Nanny,” I said. “I hate to pop your bubble, but we don’t have time. If we’re gonna visit around I suggest we go on back home. Maybe make a plan of selling our home and your part of the business and then make a few more plans for moving on accounta all the consequences we are gonna have to face.”

“What makes you think we are getting caught, Winston?” Nanny stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

I blinked. Had I?

The pressure was getting to me—boys, grandmothers, elephants. And we weren’t even out of Florida yet.

I swallowed. “If you want to go get Momma, we gotta get.”

“You’re right, Winston,” Nanny said. “You. Are. Right. Truth is, we don’t have time for potty breaks or cigarette stops. We have to drive like a bat outta heck.”

In his cage, Denny ruffled his feathers. Bats make him nervous, I think. Or almost-swearing.

“We don’t have time for sleep.” Nanny set the pamphlets (advertising a huge oak tree and elephants, I now saw) on the floor between us.

Three cars came and went while we filled the motor home. I was hungry. And nervous. I wanted to turn and
{ 114 }

stare at Steve. I felt the need look at his all-over cuteness. Or else call Thelma over to snuggle on my lap. Not that she wanted to spend any time with me now. I think she had a crush on Steve too.

“Wish I could take us straight through. Wish we didn’t have to stop at all. Not even for a free chance to view the elephants,” Nanny said.

And then from that sofa came, “I can drive.”
{ 115 }

75

Payday

The gas station attendant tapped on Nanny’s window, and she paid him, gasping at the cost.

“Thirty-six cents a gallon, ma’am,” he said. “And this here is a big rig.” He patted the side of the motor home like he loved it. “Great way to travel.”

For a moment I wondered if Mike (so said his name tag) would invite himself along on our trip. But Nanny didn’t give him a chance. She smiled, took her forty-two cents change, and pulled out of the station, hitting only one part of the concrete divider with the back wheels.

“Careful, miss,” Mike yelled after us.

And we were back on the road again.
{ 116 }

76

Driving?

Nanny didn’t waste any time lecturing.

“Stephen Lovett Simmons. I know as well as the next person in line that you aren’t anywhere near sixteen yet. Don’t you got like six months?”

He shrugged when I glanced over at him. “I been driving for a long time.” He said this like he and I were the only ones in the motor home. “Plus I got my learner’s permit. Have had it for a while.”

Nanny sent me a squirrely look. I’ve been driving forever too. I
don’t
have a permit. Yet.

“I’m best at night driving,” Steve said. “I’ve had more practice.”

He stood and stretched, pressing his hands flat on the ceiling.

I faced the front, fast. He needed to buy longer shirts. Or pull his shorts up.

“Not-even-sixteen-year-olds can’t drive at night,” Nanny said. She reached for her pack of cigarettes, whose green packaging was reflected in the windshield, and then held them in her lap. “It’s against the law.”

I
never drive at night.
{ 117 }

“Since we’re being honest”—I had to do a double take when Steve said that—“I drive when I’m
borrowing
Dad’s car. After everyone’s in bed. You know.” He said this all matter-of-fact.

No, I didn’t know. What did this mean? He stole from his father? His car? I mean, sure, it’s bad to steal from your employer/co-owner, but your very own dad?

“Hrmph,” Nanny said.

Trying my luck, I checked out Steve again. He gave me a slow wink. How could a wink be so slow? And so cute.

My mouth smiled without my meaning for it to.

“Me and Churchill here—” Steve said, getting up and standing behind our seats, where I could feel the heat from his body. Or was that the afternoon sun beating in on me? “—can drive once the sun sets. You can sleep in the back, Miss Jimmie. We’ll make good time that way. Drive straight through stopping only to fill this beast and get food and stuff. You both already bought some things so we should be good for a while. You know, not needing to stop and all that.”