Page 219 of Everything Under the Sun

“Pffft! I didn’t want her—why do you think she ran into the house, pissed off?”—he pointed at me suddenly—“that reminds me: Why did you tell them we were heading to Shreveport?”

My eyebrows hardened this time.

“I never told them that,” I defended. I thought back, going over every detail of every conversation I’d had with those people, just to make sure; but I was still ninety-nine-percent positive I’d never said anything about Shreveport. “What makes you think that, anyway?”

“Peter Whitman told me in Paducah.”

I paused, still trying to recall. “But I didn’t…I was so careful not to let it slip, I—.”

(I raised my eyes to look at her when she stopped mid-sentence. Why is she looking at me that way?)

“What?” he asked.

“Atticus…” I held a breath in my lungs for a moment; and then let it out slowly, shaking my head with realization and disappointment. “Atticus, it was you who mentioned Shreveport. Not me.”

“What?” He pushed air through his lips, and shook his head. “There’s no way I said—.”

(Oh fuck…)

His shoulders melted into a slump, and his breath came out heavily and noisily. He brought both hands up and pushed his palms over his face.

“It was me,” he admitted with deep shame and regret. “At the table during breakfast the first morning…I…shit, I meant to say we were on our way to Topeka, but I remember now…I said Shreveport.” He shook his head and lowered it. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I insisted. “I could’ve easily made the same mistake.” I moved from the fence post and sat beside him; laid my head on his shoulder. “Besides, I’m as much to blame because at the time not even I’d noticed you’d said it.”

“Doesn’t matter—I shouldn’t have blamed you. I’m such an ass. I was so sure it was you. I’m such an ass.”

“But you’re my favorite ass.”

Atticus looked over to see me smiling up at him, my cheek pressed against his arm.

(I chuckled, powerless to hold on to my anger with her looking at me like that, doll-faced and playful.)

Suddenly, my head jerked away from his arm, and I sat upright, alert.

“Did you see that?” I stared hard into the field, trying to focus my eyes on the darkness and the shadows.

ATTICUS & (THAIS)

I peered out ahead, squinting, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness.

“I don’t see anything—.”

And then I saw something: a black dot moving through the field, disappearing and reappearing in and out of the shadows cast by a tree here and there.

I grabbed Thais’ hand, and then pulled one-half of the scissors Thais had found, from the smock lying next to us. She grabbed the other half. We stood side-by-side, hands locked, and our improvised knives gripped firmly in the others.

The black dot became larger as the figure moved closer, and when it finally came into view, bathed by the blue moonlight, I blinked back the stun of the discovery, could hardly believe what I was seeing.

“It’s Trick,” she said with disbelief. “The dog from the farm.”

I couldn’t believe it, either. Did this mean, despite using highway signs as a guide, we still went in the wrong direction? And if not, then just how far away had we gotten from the farm?

The dog bounded toward us on long, bony legs, his ears flopping, his tongue hanging from one side of his mouth, tail wagging. Thais bent to welcome him, but I put my arm out in front of her.

“Wait,” I said, holding the scissor’s blade out, ready to use it if forced to.

“Oh, stop it,” Thais said, pushed my hand away, and then she knelt on the grass in front of the dog. She scratched his head with all ten fingers, and rubbed him under the neck, and Trick licked her face and his tail wagged faster, swiping side-to-side so hard it shook his whole back end.

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