Crossroads Read Online Free Page B

instead I could see, as he threw my bags into the back of the wagon, how the opposite had occurred. He’d turned solid, almost to the point of stiffening, and reminded me of a cousin of mine who had a rare disease that was turning her bones into stone.
    â€œThe farm’s beautiful now, in June,” Jennie said, leading me over to the car. “Except that Aretha Franklin’s in heat. That’s why we had to bring her with us in the first place. She’s Cory’s dog. We have no idea why he named her that. He was only five at the time. Cory and Melissa are with Mom for the summer. She likes them to come for a stretch since Dad died.”
    â€œHe died?” Jennie’s father was a man who always smiled, like Jimmy Carter. It drove everyone crazy. I wonder if he was buried smiling.
    â€œTwo years ago. I thought you knew. It was a blessing . . .”
    I offered to sit in back but they wouldn’t hear of it because the dog sat there, so we all squeezed into the front seat of the station wagon. I sat in the middle, between Tom in the driver’s seat and Jennie by the window, my legs pressed against the stick shift. The seat of the car was old vinyl and torn in parts, so that a billowy cotton puffed out of the innards and I felt the springs below me. Jennie made some feeble apology about the old station wagon, saying how the Chevy wouldn’t start. “Excuse me,” Tom said as he reached down to put the car in gear and grabbed my knee. I pressed against Jennie.
    Tom shifted gears again and this time struck against my leg. “Excuse me,” I said, leaning farther away from him. I
pushed against Jennie, who had her nose to the glass like the dog in the back, and I put my hand on her knee. She took my fingers and gave them a squeeze. “I just can’t believe you’re here.”
    â€œMe either.” I moved away from Tom.
    â€œHow long can you stay?” he asked.
    â€œOh, I don’t know . . . a week.”
    â€œAs long as she likes,” Jennie cut in.
    â€œYou can stay as long as you like.” Tom said it in such a way I knew he couldn’t mean it. He pushed his foot on the pedal.
    â€œSlow down,” Jennie said, her mouth wrinkled into a pout.
    A few moments later Tom shouted “We’re home!” as we turned down a driveway and all I could see were fields. I wasn’t prepared for the fact that they owned all of this. In the distance I saw the barn, the house, the coops.
    â€œEnough room for you?” Jennie said, as we got out of the car and walked across the lawn. The sprinklers were going and it made me think of a game we used to play. All the lawns had sprinklers when we were growing up. Some turned in many directions like dancers, and some had a lot of legs of water reaching out like spiders. There were the sprinklers that jerked around the way the spastic boy in school jerked around. Some went in smooth circles and some rose and fell. Some rose high like clocks and others exploded like fireworks. Some were hidden deep inside the ground and we could only see the water shooting out of the grass, as if from an underground well.
    We’d catalogued all the different kinds, and the game was to run through the sprinklers, but each sprinkler was different and required a different approach. Some we’d back into slowly, shivering, our faces wrinkled, and others we’d dash through, and some we tried to crawl under. If we timed it right, we didn’t get wet. That was part of the game. Stay dry. And then sometimes we just went in, hand in hand, Jennie and I, and there wasn’t anything to do but take it like soldiers.
    Â 
    Tom and Jennie thought I needed to meet new people, so the night after I arrived they threw a small cocktail party for me. It was one of those balmy June nights in which the moon carved out a niche for itself in a cloudless sky, and they set up card tables on the patio.
    The Petersons, Ted