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I really hope she stops wishing so much. Maybe then she wouldn’t seem so disappointed all the time. I’m not about to tell her that, though.
The four of us sink into silence as I pull out onto the dusty road and follow our dad’s truck toward the main part of town. Halfway there, Payton asks for her phone, and I hand it to her after she promises to behave. Then we’re all quiet again, the music from the stereo filling up the silence. It’s not our usual MO to be so quiet. Maybe it’s the whole silent treatment thing, or perhaps we’re all just fed-up with moving and are sinking into our own depressed thoughts.
Sure, this town was shitty and the trailer we lived in smelled like skunk half the damn time, thanks to a skunk spraying it while it camped out underneath the trailer, but I’m sure the place we’re going to won’t be any better. It will be just as rundown, and more than likely, we’ll be doing this same thing six months from now. When I really analyze it, everything feels so hopeless, which is why I never try to analyze it.
Shit. I need to get everyone out of their own heads.
I start to suggest we play a road game, when Bailey lets out a heart-skipping squeal.
“What the hell?” Payton says, nearly jolting out of her skin.
Londyn jerks, too, her eyes blinking wildly.
“My guitar!” Bailey shouts, pointing out the window at the local pawnshop on the corner of Main Street. “That’s my guitar in there.” She pats the back of my seat. “Hadley, stop the car.”
I pull over at the curb in front of the store and shove the shifter into park. Sure enough, positioned in a stand in front of the shop’s window is Bailey’s guitar. I know that for a fact because she had Payton paint her initials on the front in fancy script.
“We have to go in and get it, Hadley.” She pushes on the back of my seat. “Come on, let’s go before someone goes in and buys it.”
I internally grimace. If the shop is selling the guitar for more than ten bucks, which I’m sure it is, I won’t be able to buy it for her.
I trade a worried glance with Londyn before getting out. Bailey immediately jumps out, and Payton puts her phone away and runs after her. The two of them hurry inside, Londyn and I slowly trailing after them.
“What’re you going to do?” she whispers as I open the door. “We can’t afford to buy it.”
“I’m not sure yet.” I send our dad a text that we had to pull over and that he should stop at the gas station at the edge of town and wait for us. When he doesn’t respond right away, I worry he may have lost his phone, too.
Lovely.
A frown forms at her lips. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I stuff my phone into the back pocket of my shorts. “Like what?”
“Like give something up to get her guitar.”
“I don’t even have anything to give up.”
She gives me a pressing look. “That’s because you already gave everything up.”
I mirror her look. “Then I guess we don’t really have a problem.”
She sighs before walking over to the glass countertops that are filled with old jewelry. I make my way over to the window where Bailey is scooping up her guitar and Payton is sifting through a stack of paintings.
“It’s mine for sure,” Bailey announces as she strums the strings. “See? My initials are on the front.”
“Yeah, I see them.” I swallow hard as I note the price tag.
One hundred freakin’ bucks.
Shit, shit, shit, double shit.
Bailey plucks a couple of chords as she hops down from the window, ready to go, but I stop her before she walks out the door.
“You can’t just take it, Bay,” I say with a bit of remorse.
“Why not? It’s mine.” She hugs the guitar to her chest. “For all we know, the shop owner was the one who stole it.”
Doubtful. And even if they did, there’s still not much we can do about it, except go to the police. But considering they weren’t very helpful when our trailer was broken into, I doubt they’re going to be much help with this.
