CHAPTER ONE
JENSEN
AGE SEVENTEEN
I meet Miss Holly the summer I turn seventeen.
I notice she’s pretty, just a quick acknowledgement of that undeniable fact before moving along. Her son Kyle was my closest friend, that year and into the next. Even if I were a legal adult, she’d be off limits. That’s code. I might not have money or anything else, but I’ve got morals and shit.
There’s no avoiding her though. My grandma, Cherry, works at the beauty parlor in Byway, a little no-count town outside Lexington, Kentucky. Holly works with her, but they’re not friends because Cherry doesn’t have those.
Cherry is a mean lady on the surface, but she’s alright underneath. She took me in when my mother passed. Maybe because she’s got some heart in her, or maybe because the social worker said she had to, but that’s the closest thing to love I know in my short life.
I’ll take it, no complaints.
After growing up in the armpit of Harlan, her trailer in Byway is pure luxury. Between what she makes at the salon and her late man’s social security, we have it pretty good. I have my own room instead of a couch off the living area, and Cherry is alright, even though she smokes like a chimney inside, secondhand smoke be damned.
By nine AM, she’s up and sitting at the table, bright red cropped hair spiked, going through a pack of Camels like nobody’s business. She was like that from my first moment in her house, the day the social worker dropped me off in her yard. Just sitting at the table, staring at me like she’s trying to figure me out.
“What do I do here?” I ask.
She coughs through the thick smog. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I just got here,” I say. “What do I do tomorrow?”
She clears her throat, frowning. “You go to school,” she says. “After school, haul your ass over to the beauty parlor, and you can hang out until I’m done with my shift.”
“And then what?”
“Then we’ll eat dinner, and I’ll watch my soaps. You’ll do your homework tomorrow night, after your first day of school.”
We’re at the ancient table in the kitchen. Our plastic plates are empty of the sandwiches and chips she put together after I admitted I hadn’t eaten. It was just deli meat and Miracle Whip on white bread, but it was the first thing I’ve had today, so no complaints. I’m a teenage boy, a vacuous pit of hunger. Any food I get is a win in my book.
“So…I’m not super involved in school,” I say.
She narrows her black lined eyes. “What grade are you in, Jen?”
I think about it. “Not sure.”
“What the fuck was your mother doing with you?”
I don’t answer. My mother was sick for the last four years. Nobody came to the house when I stopped going to school after a while. Hell, I’m not sure anybody noticed.
Cherry looks at me like this isn’t partially her fault for throwing my pregnant, teenage mother out on her ass seventeen years ago. I shrug.
“I did one year of high school,” I say.
Her jaw works. “Were you any good?” she asks.
“Maybe,” I say. “They didn’t flunk me.”
She looks at me, laser beam eyes narrowed. She’s been mean since I showed up a few hours prior, but after that conversation, she softens a bit. We go out on the porch, and she lights a cigarette. I sit on the porch step and watch the chain link fence shake in the wind.
“Reckon I should get that fixed,” she croaks.
I get up and go over to it, checking it out. My mother used to tell me I could fix anything, which I relay to Cherry. Not a brag, just imparting some information. She gives me twenty bucks and sends me to the feed store in town to get materials. I have that fence looking pretty good by the end of the night. Cherry is impressed—I can tell by the begrudging grunt as she inspects it.
The next morning, when I get up to get ready for school, there’s my lunch packed on the table.
