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Scrutinizing my expression, he brightens. “Oh. Okay. Good. Well, look, if you’ll do me a favor and let me know if there’s anything I should be concerned about, I’d appreciate it.”
“Will do.”
I slow. Brake. Put the truck in Park.
School kids are streaming from the building, running, laughing. I see my sister come out the door alone with her head down, hair hanging in her face.
She doesn’t look like a kid. Not when I see these other ones. She’s different from them, marked, like there’s a line around her.
New clothes will help.
Maybe we can see about getting her hair cut.
“And just to go back to the scholarship for a minute,” he says. “Promise me you’ll at least think about it. The semester’s already rolling, but the person I talked to said it won’t be too late if you hustle out there.”
I open the door. Hop out of the truck.
“West.”
“Sure. I’ll think about it.”
I say it just to shut him up.
When Frankie arrives, I make the introductions, load her into the back, drop him off at the lot, and keep going, toward the strip where Ross’s is.
“Who was that guy?” she asks.
“I used to caddy for him.”
“What’s he want?”
“He wants me to go back to Putnam.”
She’s quiet for a while, looking out the window. “Caroline’s at Putnam.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Where would I go if you did that?”
“I told him no, Franks.”
“But if you did.”
“You’d go with me.”
“Without Mom?”
“Without Mom.”
“Isn’t that against the law? Like, since she’s my mom?”
“I could take you if she says it’s okay.”
“Oh.”
That’s all she’s got to say on the subject. Oh.
She tries on jeans. I get angry and then angrier until I’m incapable of producing any response to her fashion show that satisfies her. She gets pissed at me for not being excited, and I guess that’s fair, because I’m pissed at her for saying Oh.
