Dani grabbed my shoulders hard.
“No one is going to the police. You’re not going to jail, and you’re not going to foster care.”
“This is my fault,” Courtney said.
“No, it’s Dad’s fault,” Dani said. She let go of my shoulders, but looked in my eyes. “He was going to kill Courtney—you had to do it.”
I pushed my bowl of soup away.
“I’m scared,” I said.
“We’re all scared,” Dani said, pushing the bowl back to me.
*
Courtney and Dani were waiting for me outside the barn after I finished work the next day. We used to walk home alone or Dani would go to her boyfriend’s, but now we stuck together. When we got to our house, a box was on our front steps. Inside there was some food, dried pasta, canned meats, soup, and even a few pairs of old jeans and some shirts. I remembered that the sergeant had some daughters a few years older than us. Then we noticed the dusty boot print on the porch. He’d dropped off the box himself. Had he been looking through the window? We checked around the house for footsteps. There was a boot print near the shed.
It was time to leave.
Dani drove to Corey’s. When she got home, her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She went straight into her room and wouldn’t come out for hours.
Courtney shouted through the door that she was taking the truck and Dani didn’t say anything. Courtney grabbed her guitar and headed out the front door.
“Where are you going?” I yelled after her. “Can I come?”
“Stay with Dani.”
I wondered if she was going to see a boy and felt frustrated, helpless. She was going to get us in more trouble. Dani should’ve stopped her. I paced the house until I calmed down. It would be okay, Courtney was smart.
I walked to the farm and stole some eggs from the henhouse, then picked some chives from the garden and some tomatoes and green peppers from the greenhouse, hoping Ingrid and Walter didn’t see me. I shooed one of the border collies who was following me around, his tail wagging.
I made Dani scrambled eggs and knocked softly on her door.
“Made you some dinner, Dani.” No answer. I went back downstairs and fed myself but left her plate under a cover.
She came down five minutes later, her face splotchy, and picked at her eggs, then gave me heck for leaving a mess in the kitchen.
“And what the hell were you thinking, stealing that stuff? You should always have one of us with you for a lookout.”
“Sorry, Dani.” I smiled, happy that she was angry at me. Meant she was feeling better.
Courtney came home when I was doing the dishes. She gave me a wan smile and a “Hey.”
“Where you been?” Dani called out from the living room, where she was packing some of our framed photographs into a box.
“Selling my guitar.”
Dani came in. “What the hell? Why?”
“We need the money and I don’t plan on singing anymore.” She touched her burn. “I’ll never make it big with this on my face.”
“That’s stupid, Courtney,” I said. “You’re still beautiful.”
“No. I’m not. And even if I were, I’m done with singing.”
Dani and I looked at each other.
“We should go to Cash Creek first,” Courtney said. “Troy, he’d lend us some money. We’re going to need a lot for fake ID.” Cash Creek was a small town about two and a half hours southwest of Littlefield. We’d heard it was nothing but farmers and fields. Everyone had felt sorry for Troy when he had to move.
“We can’t let anyone know where we’re going,” Dani said.
“He wouldn’t say anything—especially if he gives us money.” Troy dealt drugs, mostly just weed, but he always had cash on him. “He told me they were moving to a trailer park—I’m sure we can find his car easy.”
Dani thought it over for a minute. “Okay.”
*
That night we packed up. I had some books, clothes, my camera, envelopes full of photos—we didn’t have any family albums. Dad had trashed them all when he was drunk one night. But I had my favorite photo of Mom from when she’d won a fishing derby and posed in front of the tackle shop, her hair wild under her hat, a big smile on her face. I tucked the photo inside one of my books, then shoved everything into a packsack. I also still had the camera lens and film Dad had brought home for me, but I pushed them to the bottom of my bag.
Courtney packed almost all her clothes and cosmetics. She was going to leave her songwriting books, but we made her take them. We stored a few things in the shed and dragged out the old tent and camping equipment.
We argued about whether to tell Ingrid and Walter or just leave a note. I wanted to tell them.
“They depend on our showing up,” I said. “And Ingrid will be upset, she’ll be worried.”