Page 96 of Within These County Lines

I freeze.

“I went to shoot it, but then three pups came out from behind a tree,” she continues. “I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to take a parent from them.” Her breath hitches. “So I jerked my gun up to miss my shot. That’s when I fell.”

My throat tightens.

“Bennie is all I got.”

I step forward. “You got me too.”

“Not at home. You have your family. And all your boyfriends.” Her voice wobbles. “But me?” She wipes her nose. “At the end of the day, it’s just me and Bennie. I don’t have a single parent that cares. Even the damn coyote has more than me.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m alone.” She stares through me. “And for some reason, that’s what my family thinks I deserve.”

“A lot of people care.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, like how you’ve cared enough about these hunts . . . and to plan anything for our college road trip.”

My insides twist.

I squeeze my arm because I can’t think of any words to say. I want to keep telling her that I care. That I’m here. But I’ve already failed her once.

She yanks the wagon forward.

The next few seconds pass by in silence because I’m speechless. Heat swells behind my eyelids. Whitley disappears into the near darkness. I stare until the last thing I see is Bennie’s white bandages, glowing against the tree shadows.

“Whitley,” I whisper. But she doesn’t come back.

I sigh, then lurch back to my truck with my shoulders dipped.

She’s right. I should’ve been here at the agreed-upon time to help her hunt. But I also had to go after Dara to help Xander. How was I supposed to choose? I kick my front driver’s side tire until my toe throbs.

Life has tossed me into its deep end, and I can barely keep myself afloat for much longer. I’m drowning in the pressure from all my responsibilities.

Maybe this is Penango’s final test for me. If I can make it through this summer, then the county will finally release me from its clutches.

We promise to serve and pledge our love. That’s what the Stillwell Trail High School alma mater says. To always look out for thy neighbor and put Penango above. That’s what I’m doing. I just wish, sometimes, I could get a little love in return.

It’s like the Ardor Tree has its own rifle, and it’s pointed right at my heart.

40

The next four days drone as slowly as the cargo train crawling past the Bean at five miles per hour. And I’m carrying all the weight.

Dara is holed up in a hotel on Main Street. Xander is hiding in the woods. Whitley won’t speak to me. And I’ve been dodging my counselor so she doesn’t press me about my impending deadlines.

That leaves me with one person to talk to, or at least try to talk to, to see if the curse is broken.

Murray.

I text, email, and call. They get no response, bounce back, and go straight to voicemail. I even write a letter and drop it in my mailbox, but I know it burst into nothing the moment it left my hands, just like Xander and I dissolve into dust when the wrong person walks through us.

My hopes that the curse will break anytime soon are dissolving too.

I come home from work drenched in sweat, with my jaw clenched so tight it aches. Dad sits out front in a beach chair, drinking a beer, face tilted toward the sun. My earbuds are back in most hours of the day. They play a podcast I’ve never listened to before. I thought something fresh could help fill the silence, but nothing compares to Xander’s voice.

“Someone is here to see you,” Dad grumbles as I walk across the lawn.