“Yessir,” Dill said, looking at his feet.
“He was a hell of a mechanic, by God,” the man said with a nostalgic chuckle. “Fix anything. Could sense what ailed a car. Good with his hands. And he could sing. Sang the old-timey songs while he worked. Lord, he could sing. You take after him that way, son?”
“Which way?”
“Any way you please.”
“I sing all right.”
“Bet you can fix a car up too, if you care to. Things like that run in the blood.”
“Yessir. Lots of things do.”
“You look like him.”
“People tell me that. I’ve just seen pictures. He died before I was born.”
“Yeah,” the old man said softly, nodding, looking off. Then he gazed straight at Dill. “Son? He was a good man. I want you to know that.”
Travis knew the look in the old man’s eyes. It was the same look in Lamar’s eyes when he told the story of the Serpent King. It was the look of a man who had lived long enough to understand grief’s consuming fire. The look of an old man who feared a bad death.
The younger man came out with a dirty cardboard box and set it on the counter. “All right, boys. That’ll be seventy seventy-five with tax and a fourteen-dollar core charge.”
Dill handed over some wadded bills. As they left, Travis stole a backward glance. He saw the old man move toward the younger man and point outside. The younger man was about to hear the story of the Serpent King. Travis would’ve wagered a lot of money on it.
“So it doesn’t bother you that Lydia’s leaving?” Dill asked.
“It does—I’ll miss her—but we always knew this day would come. She’s been talking about getting out of here forever. Think how bummed she’d be if she stayed.”
“You ever think about getting out of here?”
“Where would I go? This is my home.”
“College?”
“Naw. Grades suck. Anyway, I only like to read the stuff I want to read. Not what a professor wants me to read.”
“We still gonna hang out after Lydia’s gone?” Dill asked.
Travis laughed. “Yeah. I mean, I can’t promise we’ll have such creative stuff to do. And you may get outvoted on me bringing my staff places. Especially since it looks like I’ll be driving us anywhere we go.”
“The staff never bugged me the way it does Lydia.”
“You mean it’s been two to one all this time in favor of the staff?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Travis saw his opportunity to confess. “So…remember how Lydia was trying to get my phone at the library?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve been texting with this girl named Amelia Cooper, who I met on the Bloodfall forums. She lives in Alabama. Things are going pretty good.”
Dill stared at Travis for a few seconds, then grinned and punched him in the arm. “Man, look at you go. Working it with the ladies.”
Travis giggled and adjusted his cap. “Anyway, I really like her. I think we might end up being more than just friends someday. I hope so. We’re for sure gonna meet up at the Tennessee Renaissance Festival in May. Maybe even sooner. She thinks my staff is cool.”
“She thinks your staff is cool, huh?” Dill said, with an impish lilt.
It took a couple of beats, but Travis got it. He giggled again and punched Dill in the arm. “No dude, not like that. That’s not what I meant. God dang.” He grinned slyly. “Anyway, you ought to be glad to hear that friends can maybe become more.”
Dill’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa, hold up.”
Travis gave Dill an oh-come-on look.
Dill shook his head and looked away. “You’re way off, man.”
Travis gave Dill the same look. “Say it to my face.”
“No. You’re driving.”
Travis laughed and punched Dill in the arm again. “I knew it! How come you never—”
“Because.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to wreck things. And I would.”
“Maybe not.” But actually, yeah, Dill, there’s a good chance you would.
Dill gave Travis an oh-come-on look. “I maybe already did wreck things. Besides, she’s leaving. She wouldn’t want to. I’d be too much of a complication for her plans.”
“You don’t know until you try. Thing about girls is—”
Dill chuckled and punched Travis in the arm again. “?‘Thing about girls,’ huh? Now look who’s an expert.”
“I know a thing or two.”
“Like hell you do. Maybe you know a thing. You don’t know two.”
They pulled up to Dill’s house. The day begged for work outside—cloudy, crisp enough that you needed a long-sleeve shirt but not a jacket. The air smelled of brown grass and clothes drying somewhere.
Travis determined they’d need to get at the starter motor from below. They jacked up the car and put supports under it. Travis wiggled underneath with a set of wrenches.
“Can you help me get the end of my wrench over that top bolt?” Travis asked.
“Sure.” Dill helped him maneuver onto the bolt. “Where’d you learn how to work on cars?”
“My dad.” Travis grunted and broke the bolt free. He ratcheted the wrench to loosen it.
“Was that fun? Working on cars with your dad?”
“Not really.” Travis hoped Dill wouldn’t ask why. He didn’t.
Travis unhooked the electrical connection from the starter motor and clanked around with the wrench until he got onto the other bolt. He strained and loosened the bolt, supporting the old starter motor with his hand while he ratcheted the remaining bolt. The bolt came free and he lowered the starter motor. He wriggled out from under the car.
“You ever think about teaching your kids how to work on cars someday?” Dill asked.
Travis brushed dirt off his pants. “I haven’t thought much about having kids. But if I did, I’d teach them all kinds of things. And I’d let them read whatever they wanted.” Travis pulled the new starter motor out of the box and hefted it. He lowered himself to the ground and wriggled underneath the car.
He fitted the starter motor in place. He could see Dill’s face above him, through the engine compartment. They made eye contact. And all at once, Travis felt an overwhelming urge to relieve himself of one more weight that day, while he was on a roll. “Can I ask you kind of a weird question?”
“Sure. As long as it’s not about Bloodfall. Save that for Amelia.”
Travis slid one of the starter bolts in and hand-tightened it. “Did your dad ever hit you? Before he went away?”
Dill hesitated before answering. “Yeah, I mean, he spanked me. Sure.”
Travis finished tightening the bolt with the wrench. “That’s not what I mean. I mean did he hit you hit you. Really hit you?”
He and Dill made eye contact again.
“No. Not like that.” Dill didn’t ask why he asked. Travis gave thanks for that. Asking the questions indeed made him feel lighter. Less alone, somehow.
“When I have kids, I won’t lay a finger on them. I mean, except to hug them and stuff. But never to hurt them.” Travis slipped the other bolt in and hand-tightened it, finishing it with the wrench. He hooked up the electrical connection and scooted out from under the car.
“Okay,” Travis said. “Moment of truth. Say your prayers.” He sat in the car and turned the key. The engine spun immediately to life. It didn’t sound healthy, but it never did. At least it ran and would get Dill’s mom from point A to point B for a little while longer.
Dill whooped and high-fived Travis. “Dude, you’re awesome. You did it.”
Travis slapped Dill on the arm. “We did it. Now let’s go get your fourteen-dollar core charge.”
“I owe you one,” Dill said, as they got into Travis’s pickup.
“Pay me back by making up with Lydia. It sucks for me when you guys are mad at each other.”