squint.
“Look. Look at the prints,” I say, turning back and motioning to the ground.
Adelina’s back is straight and rigid, and for a moment I think she’s actually concerned; but then she softens and steps forward. She takes in the prints.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she says.
“What do you mean it’s nothing? How can you say that?”
“I wouldn’t worry. It could have been anyone.”
“He was looking right at me.”
“Marina, wake up. With today’s new arrival there are thirty-eight girls here. We do the best we can keeping you girls safe, but that doesn’t mean the occasional boy from town doesn’t wander up here to sneak a peek. We’ve even caught some of them. And don’t think for a minute we don’t know the way that some of the others dress, changing clothes on the walk to school to look provocative. There are six of you turning eighteen soon, and everyone in town knows it. So, I wouldn’t worry about the man you saw. He was probably nothing more than a boy from school.”
I’m sure this was no boy from school, but I don’t say so.
“Anyway, I wanted to apologize for this morning. It was wrong of me to strike you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, and for a minute I think of bringing John Smith up again, but I decide against it. It would create more friction, which I want to avoid. I miss the way we used to be. And it’s hard enough living here without having Adelina angry at me.
Before she says anything further, Sister Dora hurries over and whispers something into Adelina’s ear. Adelina looks at me and nods and smiles.
“We’ll talk later,” she says.
They walk away, leaving me to myself. I look back down at the boot prints, and a shiver runs up my back.
For the next hour I pace from room to room looking down the hill at the dark town cast in shadow, but I don’t see the looming figure again. Perhaps Adelina is right.
But no matter how hard I try convincing myself, I don’t think she is.
Chapter Seven
SILENCE FALLS IN THE TRUCK. SIX GLANCES IN the rearview mirror. Flashing red and blue plays along her face.
“Not good,” Sam says.
“Shit,” Six says.
The bright lights and screaming siren rouse even Bernie Kosar, who peers out the back window.
“What do we do?” Sam asks, his voice frightened and desperate.
Six takes her foot off the accelerator and steers the truck to the right side of the highway.
“It might mean nothing,” she says.
I shake my head. “Doubtful.”
“Wait. Why are we stopping?” Sam asks. “Don’t stop. Step on it!”
“Let’s see what happens first. We’ll never make it if we lead this cop on a high-speed chase. He’ll call for backup and they’ll get a helicopter. Then we’ll never get away.”
Bernie Kosar begins growling. I tell him to chill out and he stops, but he keeps vigil out the window. Gravel pings against the truck as we slow along the shoulder. Cars speed past in the left lanes. The cop car pulls to within ten feet of our rear bumper, and its headlights fill the truck’s interior. The cop flips them off, then aims a spotlight straight through the rear window. The siren stops wailing but the lights still flash.
“What do you think?” I ask, watching from the side mirror. The spotlight is blinding; but when a car passes, I can see that the officer is holding the radio up in his right hand, probably running our license plate, or calling for backup.
“Our best bet is to flee on foot,” Six says. “If that’s what it comes to.”
“Turn off your vehicle and remove the key from the ignition,” the cop barks through a speaker.
Six turns off the truck. She looks at me and removes the key.
“If he radios us in, you have to assume that they’ll hear it,” I say.
She nods, says nothing. From behind us the officer’s car door creaks. His approaching boots click bleakly on the asphalt.
“Do you think he’ll recognize us?” Sam asks.
“Shhh,” Six says.
When I look in the side mirror again, I
“Look. Look at the prints,” I say, turning back and motioning to the ground.
Adelina’s back is straight and rigid, and for a moment I think she’s actually concerned; but then she softens and steps forward. She takes in the prints.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she says.
“What do you mean it’s nothing? How can you say that?”
“I wouldn’t worry. It could have been anyone.”
“He was looking right at me.”
“Marina, wake up. With today’s new arrival there are thirty-eight girls here. We do the best we can keeping you girls safe, but that doesn’t mean the occasional boy from town doesn’t wander up here to sneak a peek. We’ve even caught some of them. And don’t think for a minute we don’t know the way that some of the others dress, changing clothes on the walk to school to look provocative. There are six of you turning eighteen soon, and everyone in town knows it. So, I wouldn’t worry about the man you saw. He was probably nothing more than a boy from school.”
I’m sure this was no boy from school, but I don’t say so.
“Anyway, I wanted to apologize for this morning. It was wrong of me to strike you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, and for a minute I think of bringing John Smith up again, but I decide against it. It would create more friction, which I want to avoid. I miss the way we used to be. And it’s hard enough living here without having Adelina angry at me.
Before she says anything further, Sister Dora hurries over and whispers something into Adelina’s ear. Adelina looks at me and nods and smiles.
“We’ll talk later,” she says.
They walk away, leaving me to myself. I look back down at the boot prints, and a shiver runs up my back.
For the next hour I pace from room to room looking down the hill at the dark town cast in shadow, but I don’t see the looming figure again. Perhaps Adelina is right.
But no matter how hard I try convincing myself, I don’t think she is.
Chapter Seven
SILENCE FALLS IN THE TRUCK. SIX GLANCES IN the rearview mirror. Flashing red and blue plays along her face.
“Not good,” Sam says.
“Shit,” Six says.
The bright lights and screaming siren rouse even Bernie Kosar, who peers out the back window.
“What do we do?” Sam asks, his voice frightened and desperate.
Six takes her foot off the accelerator and steers the truck to the right side of the highway.
“It might mean nothing,” she says.
I shake my head. “Doubtful.”
“Wait. Why are we stopping?” Sam asks. “Don’t stop. Step on it!”
“Let’s see what happens first. We’ll never make it if we lead this cop on a high-speed chase. He’ll call for backup and they’ll get a helicopter. Then we’ll never get away.”
Bernie Kosar begins growling. I tell him to chill out and he stops, but he keeps vigil out the window. Gravel pings against the truck as we slow along the shoulder. Cars speed past in the left lanes. The cop car pulls to within ten feet of our rear bumper, and its headlights fill the truck’s interior. The cop flips them off, then aims a spotlight straight through the rear window. The siren stops wailing but the lights still flash.
“What do you think?” I ask, watching from the side mirror. The spotlight is blinding; but when a car passes, I can see that the officer is holding the radio up in his right hand, probably running our license plate, or calling for backup.
“Our best bet is to flee on foot,” Six says. “If that’s what it comes to.”
“Turn off your vehicle and remove the key from the ignition,” the cop barks through a speaker.
Six turns off the truck. She looks at me and removes the key.
“If he radios us in, you have to assume that they’ll hear it,” I say.
She nods, says nothing. From behind us the officer’s car door creaks. His approaching boots click bleakly on the asphalt.
“Do you think he’ll recognize us?” Sam asks.
“Shhh,” Six says.
When I look in the side mirror again, I
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