Chasing the Skip

by Patterson, Janci

  “No problem.” Ian ducked his head a little, bringing it closer to mine. “So, are we still going to San Diego, or should I drop you somewhere else?”

  “Do you really want to go with me to California?”

  Ian shrugged. “California’s probably the same as every damn place.”

  “Yeah. Probably.”

  Ian lifted his arm, and I slipped under it, letting him rest it on my shoulders. His spicy smell mixed with the scent of dirt and rain, until the breeze picked up and blew it away.

  Ian inclined his face toward mine, and I raised my chin slightly, until his nose brushed up against mine. Just a few more inches. Just a bend of his neck. Just a lift of my chin.

  Ian’s head snapped up as an unfamiliar car turned down the piece of road behind our rental, tires crunching in the gravel. The car didn’t even stop fully before Dad jumped out and stood there, gun pointed straight at Ian. Straight at me.

  Outside Des Moines, Iowa.

  Days since Mom left: 32.

  Distance from Salt Lake City, Utah: 1053.5 miles.

  14

  I froze, staring at Dad’s gun. His face was expressionless.

  “Step away from her,” Dad said. “Ricki, get in the car.”

  A cold wave washed through me. He was worried about me.

  “I mean it, Ricki. Get in the car now.”

  I looked at the unfamiliar car and then at the rental. “Which one?” I asked.

  “The Camry.” He glared at Ian. “Step away from her, hands in the air.”

  Ian’s face hardened, but he raised his arm from my shoulder and kicked off the fence and into the field, his feet sinking a little in the dirt. It wasn’t until then that I realized he’d left his arm there when he saw Dad—hadn’t pulled it away or anything. Like he was daring Dad to do something about it.

  I scrambled off the fence in the other direction and stepped over to the unfamiliar car, double checking to make sure it actually was the Camry.

  “Drop the keys,” Dad said to Ian.

  Ian spit in Dad’s direction.

  “Hands behind your head,” Dad barked. He popped the trunk of the rental and pulled out a pair of cuffs, sticking them on Ian and hauling him over to the car. He glared at me through the window, and I looked away, staring at the dash.

  After Dad had secured Ian in the back seat, he climbed in on the driver’s side, not even looking at me.

  “I’m so sorry, Dad,” I said.

  “Not now,” he said back.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. His tone was so clipped, he might be pissed enough to put me in foster care. A lot of good it did to know he’d chase me, if running this time was the final blow that made him give up on me.

  “I did stay in the car,” I said. “Like I promised.”

  “Yeah, you did exactly what you said. Very clever.”

  I felt like sinking right through the seat. He knew we’d planned this. The promise I made hadn’t been part of the plan, but I couldn’t convince Dad of that. “But—”

  “Ricki, shut up,” Dad said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  We settled into silence. Raindrops slapped against the windshield again, and Dad stepped on the accelerator, driving the Camry back to Des Moines.

  * * *

  It turned out the Camry belonged to Ian’s sister. Dad had borrowed her car after he busted his brakes.

  After we got back to Ian’s sister’s place, she came with us to pick up the rental, since we had to leave it by the field. Dad offered to let her drive her own car, but instead she climbed into the back seat, plunking herself down next to Ian.

  “You said you were trying to get away from some people,” she said. “You never told me you were running from the law.”

  Ian shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

  “I shouldn’t have to ask.” She leaned toward Dad. “What’d he do, anyway?”

  “Credit card fraud,” Dad said. “Vandalism. Kidnapping.”

  “I haven’t been charged with any of that.”

  “But you will be,” Dad said.

  I heard a slap and twisted around to see the sister’s arm coming down after smacking Ian in the back of the head.

  “Hey, now,” Dad said. “Let’s all calm down.”

  The sister shook her head. “This is so stupid. You know better.”

  “Right, because our family is full of so many fine examples.”

  “How long are you going to use Dad as an excuse for your stupidity?”

  Ian didn’t respond; he just stared at the window, face hard. I wished for my notebook to record that look.

  When we got to the field, Dad transferred Ian to the rental car. Dad pulled the set of jigglers out of the ignition and locked them in the trunk, and the sister got in the driver’s seat of her car and drove off without even saying good-bye. When we went back to her house for the truck, she hadn’t returned.

  Dad hitched the truck up to the rental car.

  “We’ll tow it back to North Platte,” he said. “We can at least stay in the trailer while we wait for it to be fixed. He also grabbed his chains out of the truck and bound Ian’s feet together. He’d cuffed Ian’s hands behind his back this time. Ian looked pretty uncomfortable, arms stuck behind him so he couldn’t lean back without his shoulders bowing out unnaturally.

  Ian started to say something as we drove back down I-80, but Dad snapped at him before he got a breath out.

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it,” Dad said.

  “Hey,” Ian said, “if you’re so set on taking me to jail, why don’t you just drop me off at the station and be done with it?”

  Dad couldn’t do that. We had to get back to the jail in the county of the arrest, or Dad wouldn’t get paid. This trip had already been expensive, especially now that Dad had to fix his brakes.

  Dad didn’t explain that to Ian, though. He just said, “I told you to shut up.”

  By the time we got to North Platte the sun had set. Most places had closed, but Dad found a mechanic attached to a gas station who agreed to look at the truck. Dad double checked that Ian was chained securely in the back of the car, then parked it right next to the window of the auto mechanic so he could keep an eye on him while he was making arrangements to get the truck fixed.

  “You’re coming in too,” Dad said to me. “No arguments.”

  I didn’t argue, just followed him into the shop. The mechanic spotted us through an open door to the back and shouted, “Be there in a few.” I looked around. There was only one guy working.

  Dad took a seat next to the window, where he could see Ian clearly. Ian leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed, but Dad still stared at him.

  The silence was killing me. When Mom was pissed at me, she’d march into the room yelling straight off. But Dad just sat there, stewing and avoiding. I hated knowing the fight was coming; I wanted to get it over with.

  “Can we talk now?” I asked. It came out sounding snotty when I hadn’t meant it to.

  Dad shook his head at me, his voice quiet and low. “Did you have something to say for yourself?”

  “How’d you find us?”

  “I could see the car from the freeway.”

  “But how did you know which way we’d gone?”

  “You had to have gone one way or the other. I guessed. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

  “I am really, really sorry.”

  “I should never have put you in this situation to begin with. Ian is a manipulator—maybe a better one than either of us. You shouldn’t be near him.”

  I wanted to explain to Dad what I’d been doing with Ian—to come up with some way to tell Dad that I’d wanted him to save me. But I didn’t know how to say that in any way that sounded sane. Maybe because it wasn’t. “I know,” I said at last. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’ll get Ian back to Denver as soon as the truck is fixed. Then this’ll all be over with.”

  “And then what?” I asked, setting myself dow
n in an uncomfortable plastic chair. I couldn’t bring myself to ask the real question: Are you going to give up on me now?

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  That wasn’t a promise either way.

  “If you found Mom, you wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore,” I said quietly. “You could just go back to your normal life.”

  Dad sighed. “I don’t want to go over that again right now.”

  “Something must have happened to her. We should call the police.”

  “Your grandma already did, the first week she was gone. They took a report, since she abandoned a child. That’s about all they’ll do, though, unless they suspect foul play.”

  “She didn’t abandon me,” I said. Except that she had. I’d always thought of Dad as the abandoner, but that’s what it’s called when your parent leaves you and doesn’t call.

  My arms shook, so I crossed them securely in front of me.

  Dad stared at the magazines on the counter. “It’s not your fault. She did this to me, too.”

  I pushed up against the cold concrete wall of the corner, trying to get as far away from Dad as possible. “What do you mean?”

  Dad’s eyes flicked toward Ian again, and he sighed. “She walked out on me. I came home from work one day and she wasn’t there. Left me a note saying she’d gone off with a girlfriend for a couple of days to Reno, but she’d packed most of her stuff with her. I waited for her to come back. Waited two months before I heard from her. And then she was just arranging to come back and pick up the rest of her crap. Said she’d filed for divorce. Never did tell me why. I didn’t find out she was pregnant until six months later, when she called me from the hospital to tell me you’d been born.”

  I looked toward the empty register. I’d always thought Dad had left Mom. I knew Dad wasn’t there when I was born, but I’d assumed he chose not to come.

  What had Mom told me, exactly? I couldn’t remember the words now.

  “Was it because you were a drunk?” I asked.

  “No. I didn’t start drinking until after.”

  I wanted to snap at him that he was lying, that Mom would never walk out with no reason, but I bit my lip. She hadn’t had a reason to walk out on me.

  “So we’re the same, you and me,” Dad said. “Both of us cast off by the same woman.”

  I rested my head on my hands. Dad left me when I was a baby. Mom left me now. Jamie wouldn’t e-mail me. Was there no one in my life who I could count on to stay?

  “We’re not the same,” I said. “You’re an adult. You could have been a part of our lives—that was your right as my father. But you weren’t. Lots of people drink. It’s not an excuse for abandoning me.”

  “You’re right,” Dad said. “It’s not an excuse at all, but that doesn’t change that it’s the truth.”

  The mechanic stepped in from the shop, smiling at us. “What can I do you for?” he asked.

  Dad and I both looked up at him, and his eyes flicked from Dad to me and back to Dad, his smile fading slightly. He tried again. “Something I can help you with?”

  “Yeah,” Dad said, standing. “Got a truck that needs new brakes.” And just like that, he was back to business, leaving his daughter behind.

  North Platte, Nebraska.

  Days since Mom left: 32.

  Distance from Salt Lake City, Utah: 1057.5 miles.

  15

  It turned out the truck couldn’t be fixed until morning, since the mechanic had to wait for a part.

  “We’ll drive Ian back to Denver tonight in the rental,” Dad said as we walked to the car.

  We were about three yards from the car when I saw Ian’s knees rise between the two front seats. He braced himself on the back seat with his cuffed hands, thrusting up with his pelvis and kicking his feet in the air, boots connecting with the windshield. Ian’s chains slapped against the glass and it gave, showering over the dash in puzzlelike pieces.

  Dad swore loudly, and the mechanic came running out to the parking lot, adding some choice words of his own.

  “Fuck you, bounty man,” Ian shouted through the hole in the windshield.

  Dad just stared at him while the mechanic whistled at the damage.

  “I’m going to need the truck towed to the RV park,” Dad said, his voice eerily even. “And then back again in the morning.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to leave it all here?”

  “No,” Dad said. “I’m going to need someplace to put him.”

  The mechanic looked a little confused, but he didn’t ask questions. “You want me to order a windshield while I’m at it?”

  Dad sighed, then nodded. I wondered if rental places wanted you to do that or if they’d rather repair the damage themselves.

  Ian just smiled.

  Turned out the mechanic also had a tow truck, so he took the truck to the RV park himself. I shook my head as he backed the truck against our trailer. Here we were with three vehicles and nothing to drive.

  Dad pushed Ian into the back seat of the broken-down truck and chained him to the floor, then motioned for me to follow as he stormed back toward the trailer. Dad got quieter as he got madder.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked.

  “We’ll head out tomorrow,” he said.

  “Not until then?”

  “That’s right.” His voice was so clipped, I knew I was pushing it.

  “Why?”

  “Part for the truck won’t be in until then.”

  “Couldn’t you get another rental car?”

  Dad looked up at the sky. The clouds gathered darkly above us. “I’m too angry to drive,” he said. “And I’m running on four hours of sleep. It’s a long way back to Denver. Wouldn’t be safe, with the storm coming.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say. What I really needed was to connect with my old life—with my old self. I needed to call Anna.

  Dad climbed into the trailer and left the door standing open for me.

  “Can I use the phone?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “But I need it.”

  “To call your grandmother?”

  “No. A friend.”

  “What friend?”

  “My friend Anna, from school.”

  “What do you need to call her for?”

  “I just want to feel normal again.”

  Dad sighed. “Here.” He handed me the phone. “Don’t talk all night.”

  I took it. Dad kept the trailer door open, but instead of going in I walked past the RV office to the lamplit picnic area and parked my butt on one of the tables with my feet on the bench. I dialed Anna’s number. A cold wind bit at me, and I cradled the phone in my hand to keep the air from blowing at the microphone.

  The phone rang only once before she picked up. Like she’d been waiting for me to call.

  “Ricki!” Anna said. “I was just going to call you.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yes. Are you doing okay? Have you heard from your mom?”

  “Still no,” I said. “I think she’s in San Diego, but I’m not sure.”

  “When are you coming back? Can you stay with your grandma again?”

  “I don’t know.” I’d have loved to get back home, though, with or without Mom. “Did your mom decide yet if I can stay with you?”

  “She keeps insisting you’re better off with family. I keep telling her we are family, but it’s not working.”

  “Thanks for trying. Maybe I can hide in Jamie’s basement or something.” We both knew that was impossible: Jamie lived in a two-bedroom apartment.

  “Look, I have to tell you something you don’t want to hear.”

  I sucked in a breath. Maybe calling Anna had been a mistake.

  “Remember how you told me to find out if Jamie was seeing someone else?”

  There was only one way the conversation could go after that. This couldn’t be happening. Not right now.

  “Ricki, you still there? Can you h
ear me?”

  It’s not like I thought I’d be with Jamie forever. But he couldn’t disappear on me without so much as an e-mail. He couldn’t slip out of my life without giving me a reason, without giving me a choice. Just like Dad had. Just like Mom.

  “I hear you,” I said. “He’s seeing someone else.”

  “I am so sorry, sweetie. He’s a complete shitface.”

  “How can that be? I talked to him a week ago.”

  “From what I hear, he was already two-timing you then.”

  My brain melted into soup, and I held perfectly still so it wouldn’t roll out my ears into a puddle. At least Mom had left me a note. Now Anna was the last real piece of my old life left. How long until she left me too? Would she even call when she did? Would she give me a reason?

  “I’ve been telling everyone that he gave you crabs. It’s more plausible than gonorrhea.”

  “So now everyone thinks I have crabs?”

  “They’ll have forgotten by the time you get back.”

  My body felt so limp, I thought I might fall off the table. Chances were, they’d have forgotten me entirely by then. “I’ve got to go,” I said.

  “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  “No.”

  “He’s an asshole. Seriously. You can do so much better.”

  “Thanks,” I said. My voice came out flat and quiet.

  “Call me when you’re ready to talk. Anytime. Day or night. I’m sending you mental ice cream right now.”

  Triple Chocolate Devastation ice cream. That was the tradition. Anna and I would wait for Mom to get home so we could choc out together. We’d started doing that when I was twelve and broke up with my first real boyfriend, and Mom hadn’t missed a breakup since.

  But where the hell was Mom now? Where was she when I needed her?

  I hung up the phone, wondering if I should e-mail Jamie and chew him out. I hadn’t even asked Anna who he was screwing around with. I wasn’t sure that I cared.

  As I walked back to the trailer under the dim lamplight, my guts ached from the inside out. Wasn’t I worth sticking around for? I couldn’t even stay with Anna, since her mom didn’t think I was family enough for them. Soon Anna would forget about me too. What was wrong with me that this kept happening?