Stupid Fast

Chapter 30: THE MOUND




I started going every day for hours, no matter what. I ran up while lightning shot across the sky and thunder rumbled down, the rocks, dirt, and rail ties slick with huge rain. I ran up it when the sun was burning hot, burning a hole in the back of my head, blinding me (even though I’d purchased some mirrored honky lifeguard shades). I ran up when the clouds were so low I was in fog at the top, sweating in the stillness and stinky humidity. It didn’t matter what was going on with the weather. Nothing else mattered. I ran and ran and ran.

Once, I ran up with that leather pouch of hippy rocks and crystals that dumbass drummer Tito had given me to help me relax (which made me a freak in the eyes of my classmates), and I dumped them in my right hand and whipped the whole handful down the M so they disappeared. (I threw the pouch in the weeds.)

Because I didn’t want to be at home (Andrew had, in fact, started asking Jerri “hard” questions. Jerri had, in fact, begun to scream like hell at Andrew), I’d stay out there for hours every day.

Every now and then an old couple or some family with kids or some tourist from another part of the state would show up and climb while I ran. Always, always, always, whoever was there would say, breathing hard, “I can’t believe you can run up and down this hill. It’s amazing.”

I’d nod, smile, keep running. Meep meep.

Mostly, though, I was alone out there. And that was good. No ghosts to freak me out with their pirate/zombie wailing about the past. Nothing to do but what I loved doing. I felt like an adult. It felt perfect to be out there. So much so, I began protecting the whole afternoon.