Bone Gap

by Laura Ruby

  Truth was, Finn had swiped the Swamp Thing. His mother never had enough money for toys. Sean made him give it back the next day.

  Finn picked up his shovel and started digging alongside Miguel. For a while, they didn’t speak.

  Then Finn said, “I’m meeting Petey at the Chat ’n’ Chew later. I could ask her about Amber.”

  “We’re not in fifth grade.”

  “You don’t want me to ask her?”

  Miguel stomped on the edge of his shovel, levered up a wedge of earth. “I didn’t say that.”

  As he sat at the counter of the diner waiting for Petey, nervously drumming his fingers, the black mare huge and agitated at her tether outside, Finn wondered what the hell he’d been thinking. The lights were too bright, the seat beneath him too worn and loose, ready to dump him to the floor. He’d wanted to meet Petey in public so that everyone could see them, could see how real they were to each other. Now it seemed as if he was just asking for trouble.

  “Hey! Sidetrack!”

  “What?”

  A waitress, hair dyed red as new brick, was standing in front of him, holding up the coffeepot. “I been calling your name since the earth cooled. What’s a girl gotta do to get your attention?”

  “Darla?”

  The waitress’s mouth twisted. “Now, who else would it be?”

  “But, your hair.”

  “Oh, yeah! You like it? I wanted something different. Better than the blond, right?”

  “Right!” said Finn. “It’s really . . . red.”

  “Want some coffee?”

  Finn nodded, pushed his cup toward her.

  “I didn’t expect you to say yes. You never drink coffee,” said Darla.

  “A little tired.”

  “For good reason, I hope,” said Darla.

  A flush burned in Finn’s cheeks. “Just studying.”

  “Studying, my butt,” said Darla. “It’s the summertime.”

  “I have tests and stuff. For college.”

  “Uh-huh,” Darla said. “Which is why you’re blushing.”

  “That’s sunburn.”

  Darla lifted the coffeepot toward the window. “That’s some animal you got out there. She some sort of racehorse?”

  “I don’t know,” Finn said.

  “She’s a big girl.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I never saw a girl that big. Or a boy even.”

  “Yeah,” said Finn.

  Darla put the pot back on the burner, grabbed a dishrag, and wiped the counter. “Heard you ride a lot at night.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Finn said, his voice sharper than he’d intended.

  Darla stopped wiping. “Maybe you should lay off the coffee. You’re getting awful jumpy.”

  Finn pushed the cup back toward Darla. “Maybe you’re right. Can I have lemonade instead?”

  “Sure thing,” Darla said, whisking away the offending cup.

  Finn took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He hadn’t been in the Chat ’n’ Chew in months, not since Roza. Roza had loved the Chat ’n’ Chew. She loved the food, the bustle, the gossip, which she said reminded her of home. Finn didn’t know where “home” was, exactly. Sean had never asked how she’d gotten to Bone Gap. Sean said that if she wanted to tell him, she would tell him. Sean said that there are certain questions you don’t ask, even if the people of Bone Gap wouldn’t stop making up stories.

  “People talk,” Roza had told Finn once, while they huddled in a booth over ice cream sundaes. “They say which boy does Roza love.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Roza waved her spoon. “Sean, Finn, Finn, Sean.”

  Finn almost choked on his cherry. “That’s stupid.”

  “They say which girl does Finn love, too.”

  “They do not.”

  “Yes. I hear. I listen.”

  “Most people don’t listen.”

  “People look, they don’t see.”

  “That too.”

  Roza plucked the cherry from the top of her sundae, dangled it in front of Finn. “You see bee girl.”

  He took the cherry. He knew something, too. “You see my brother.”

  “He not see me.”

  “Yes, he does,” said Finn, both embarrassed and pleased that they were talking like this, as weird as it was.

  She leaned forward. “The people talk right now. They say, look! Roza and Finn! Together! Maybe they go kiss! Maybe they get married!”

  Finn laughed. “We’re too young to get married.”

  “Maybe we kiss, though.”

  The flush burned the top of his ears. “You don’t want to kiss me.”

  “No matter. They like story.”

  Even though Sean had warned him, he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out: “Speaking of stories, how did you get to America? Where were you before you came to Bone Gap?”

  She laid the spoon carefully on her napkin but did not speak.

  “Never mind,” he said. “I don’t need to know. I’m sorry.”

  She gazed at him so intently that he could not escape her gaze.

  She said, “You don’t look at me.”

  “People say that I don’t look at anyone.”

  She grinned, one tooth ever so slightly crooked. “You look at Petey.”

  Finn had shoveled back three more spoonfuls of ice cream while Roza laughed. “Is okay. I like her. Fierce like queen. You have blessing.”

  Fierce like queen. Darla plunked the lemonade in front of Finn, startling him out of his daydreams. His hands slid down the sweating glass. He swiveled on the seat, scanning the restaurant for Petey. Maybe coming here today, meeting Petey where all these people would make up their own stories about them, was a bad idea. And then Jonas Apple dropped into the seat beside him, and there were no maybes about it.

  “Darla,” said Jonas, nodding. “Sidetrack. How are you folks doing this evening?”

  Darla slid a menu over to Jonas as if Jonas needed to see it. Jonas played along, scanning the thing as if there was suddenly something new there—rabbit cassoulet, filet mignon. Finn hunched over his lemonade, fighting the urge to knock Jonas off his stool.

  Jonas slapped the menu closed. “I’ll have some french fries with brown gravy, Darla. And an orange soda pop.”

  “Coming up,” said Darla. She poured the pop, put the glass in front of Jonas.

  Jonas unwrapped a straw, sank the straw in the drink, took a long pull. “Tastes like baby aspirin.”

  Finn didn’t ask Jonas Apple why he’d drink a drink that tasted like aspirin, as concerned as he was about drugs. Have you been sniffing something? Jeez Louise, it’s not meth, is it? Finn watched Darla dance from one customer to the next, doling out food and drinks and extra ketchup. All around him, the people of Bone Gap jangled ice in their glasses, spooned soup into their mouths, talked about the weather, and how all the warmth and sunshine should have made for strong and healthy crops. But the sky was too blue and the earth was too dry, despite the brief rains that came and went. The days seemed to last too many hours, and the nights were too dark and brought strange dreams. The corn, which had been so green and strong, was now striped with yellowing leaves. The vegetables were small and withered, the flowers leached of their color, confusing the birds and the bees. Something was off, something was wrong, very wrong, and they didn’t know what it was, but they knew it wasn’t normal because they had never seen anything like it before. Even Charlie Valentine couldn’t explain, even Charlie could only look at the sky and the plants and shake his head. And because whatever it was wasn’t normal and because none of them had never seen anything like it before, their eyes slowly drifted toward Finn bent like an inmate over his lemonade, the giant black mare jerking at her tether outside.

  Yes, this was a very, very bad idea.

  Darla slid a plate of fries drenched in gravy in front of Jonas Apple, watching with satisfaction as he popped a fry into his mouth. “How’s the crime-fighting business these d
ays?”

  It seemed to Finn that Jonas made a show of not glancing Finn’s way when he said, “Slow. A few break-ins. A couple joyrides. Some loud parties. We’ll get busy when the monster truck races come.”

  “Brings in the monsters,” said Darla.

  Jonas laughed and pointed with a fry. “And when we have the fair, and those lunatics come down from Chicago and up from Saint Louis. If you ask me, it’s the city types that bring the crime with them.”

  “Who would want to live in the city?”

  “They do have great pizza in Chicago,” Jonas said.

  “I guess that’s no small thing,” said Darla.

  The rumble of a motor and the subsequent whinny of protest from Finn’s enormous horse made everyone in the restaurant turn toward the door. Petey stepped into the diner, blondish hair wild as a thicket, wearing a short white dress that shone like moonlight against her skin. They gaped when she sat on the other side of Finn and gave his arm a squeeze. And such a buzz arose, a murmuring and whispering like the incessant yapping of the corn, that Finn wished he had never asked her here, wished he had never been so stupid as to think the people of Bone Gap would see her, see him, see the two of them the way Finn himself did.

  “Why, hello there, Miss Priscilla,” said Jonas. “Bringing some honey for Darla?”

  “Not today,” said Petey. For some reason, Petey didn’t seem to be aware of the looks they were getting, or if she was, she didn’t care. She was too busy glaring at Jonas Apple.

  “You okay there, Priscilla?” said Jonas.

  She ignored Jonas. “That’s some color, Darla! What’s next, a Mohawk?”

  Darla laughed. “Your fella didn’t even recognize me!”

  To Finn, Petey said, “Get me a pop, okay? I’m going to try to tame this.” She gestured to her tangled locks. She walked toward the ladies’ room, waving at this person or that one, thrilling, it seemed, in the attention.

  Darla grinned as she poured Petey’s pop and refilled Finn’s lemonade. “That Priscilla Willis sure looks nice in a dress,” she said. “Don’t you think, Jonas?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a grump. You can too say. I bet if she got herself a good haircut . . .” She fluffed her own hair as if marveling over the magic a good haircut could do. “You two kids going somewhere?”

  Finn frowned. He’d planned on taking Petey back to his house to meet Calamity’s kittens, but he couldn’t imagine saying that out loud. “Movies.”

  Jonas popped another fry into his mouth, leaving a smear of gravy like a question mark on his chin. “Careful, Finn.”

  “Finn should be careful? Or Priscilla should be?” Darla said.

  The lemonade soured on Finn’s tongue. If Jonas “Jeez Louise It’s Not Meth?” Apple said anything about Petey having a sting, Finn would punch him.

  Jonas said, “Women are complicated.”

  Strange boy, ugly girl . . .

  “Or men are simple,” said Darla.

  Maybe he’s taking advantage of her, maybe she’ll do anything . . .

  “One minute they can’t stand the dog and the next day they load the dog up in a van and drive off. No phone number, no address. You don’t even know if the dog’s all right. I mean, they should tell you that the dog’s all right, don’t you think? A person should know about his dog.” Jonas rubbed at one eye. “Allergies are killing me.”

  Darla handed him a napkin. “You have gravy on your chin.”

  Petey returned from the ladies’ room and took Finn’s arm. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hey.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Let’s find a table in the back.”

  She let go of his arm. “Why do you want to sit in the back?”

  “No reason. Well, I want to ask you something about Amber.”

  “Amber?”

  Darla glanced past the police chief out the window. “Hey, who’s that messing with your horse, Sidetrack?”

  “What?” Finn said, spinning on his stool, just in time to see the mare rear back, kick her front legs, and charge past the diner.

  He flew off his stool and ran out the door. The mare was already half obscured in a cloud of dust. Finn stood there, frozen, staring down the road, until a voice behind him said, “That fool horse is headed right for the highway.”

  The highway? With the speeding cars and the semis and the SUVs . . .

  Petey’s moped leaned up against the building, key in the ignition. Finn jumped on the machine. He turned the key and kicked the start lever the way he’d seen Petey do. It didn’t work. He tried again, this time squeezing the brake handles as he kicked. Still nothing. One more kick and the moped fired up. He took off just as Petey’s hand grabbed the back of his shirt, almost pulling him off the bike. He struggled to hold the bike upright, then gunned the engine, breaking free of her grasp.

  He sped the moped after the runaway horse, fighting to keep his seat as the tires caught on the edge of the road through town. Flying gravel tattooed his skin with hot pricks of blood.

  The mare was moving so fast her shoes sent up blue sparks when they struck the pavement. Ahead of her, brakes squealed as cars jerked left and right. The sound reminded Finn of an earlier time, a time when another car was jerking left and right, Roza’s pale hands slapping at the back window.

  The mare sped up. The highway was only a few miles down the road. If she reached it . . .

  Sirens blared in his head. He gunned the engine as hard as he could, racing around the galloping horse. Once in front of her, he suddenly swerved the moped, tacking from one side of the road to the other. His hands pumped the brakes. She’d have to slow down. She’d have to.

  She didn’t.

  The next time he swerved left, she banked right, galloping by him before he had the chance to react. He could see the white foam gathered at her mouth, the dark sweat on her flanks, the raw terror in her eyes. Something had scared her. Something had scared her so badly that she was going to run out onto the highway and—

  Again Finn flew around the horse. This time, he dropped the moped into a slide, leaving yards of his own skin on the pavement as the bike sparked and squealed and finally stopped. Finn could only lie in the road, pinned by Petey’s bike, as his horse, his beautiful, magnificent, impossible horse, thundered toward him. The mare reared up, shrieking, hooves hammering the air. When those hooves came down, they came down right on his heart.

  His first thought was: I’m broken.

  His second: No, I’m burned.

  Third: I’m broken and burned.

  A cool hand touched his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Petey’s anxious face hovering over him, her hand squeezing his. On the other side of him, Mel Willis’s long brown hair swung gently as willows in a breeze. Beyond Mel and Petey, the squeal of brakes, the slamming of car doors. The people of Bone Gap coming to see for themselves. They’d all followed him here.

  “Finn?” said Petey. “Are you okay?”

  “Describe the time you were run over by your own horse using only interjections.” He coughed, fought to sit up. His chest was burning as if he had been branded.

  So, broken, burned, and branded. But not high! he wanted to say. I’m not sniffing glue, people, and for that—

  “You should stay still,” Mel said. “The mare stepped on you. She stumbled off at the last moment. As scared as she was, she knew it was you. You’re lucky. She didn’t want to hurt you. But you could have some cracked ribs.”

  At this, Petey abruptly dropped his hand, stood, and stomped off.

  “I’m fine,” said Finn. “Where did she go?”

  Mel pointed. Her truck was parked a few feet away, blocking any traffic. The mare stood quietly in the middle of the road, lathered and exhausted. Petey took the reins and knotted them in her fist. Her angry fist. She was breathing hard, chest heaving.

  Mel followed his gaze. “Priscilla called me when you took off on the moped.”

  “She l
ooks mad.”

  “She always does.”

  “No, she looks really mad. Did I break the moped?”

  “I don’t think she’s worried about the moped. People sometimes get mad when someone they care about throws himself in front of a charging thousand-pound animal wearing steel shoes.”

  “Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. “Is she okay?” And he wasn’t sure if he was asking after the horse or the girl.

  Mel sat back on her heels. “I don’t know, Finn. That horse just ran flat out for miles and barely missed getting turned into dog food. She stomped on your chest and she almost stomped on your head, so you barely missed getting turned into dog food.” She raked her hair from her face. “I think you should have the vet check her out. The vet should check you out, too. And maybe give you some kind of shot so you never, ever do anything like that again. Do you know how dangerous that was?”

  Finn grunted. He didn’t think it was any more dangerous than playing with millions of stinging insects and risking anaphylactic shock. He straightened his leg. His thigh and calf were sanded raw as a T-bone at the meat counter. Then he really was sorry, sorry that he’d looked at it.

  Mel sighed. “Just rest for a second.”

  He ignored her and sat up. He’d been roadkill many times. What was one more?

  “You’re one giant pain in the Buddha,” Mel said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Stop arguing with me. You look like you lost a battle with a thresher.”

  By then, some of the people of Bone Gap had gathered behind Mel. Someone whistled. “Whooeeee. That’s going to hurt later.”

  “It hurts now,” said Finn.

  “Whaddya expect?” someone else said. “Pulling a stunt like that.”

  “Yeah,” said another. “Who do you think you are? Evel Knievel?”

  “Evil who?” Finn said.

  “Kids today don’t know nothing.”

  Petey said, “Some of us know not to use a double negative.”