Dave jerked his head back. “You sure? No pressure. You don’t wanna do it, you don’t wanna do it. But it is a good opportunity to give this place one last middle finger.”
Billy chuckled uncomfortably again, shaking his head. “I don’t think I hated it as much as you guys did.”
“Really?” Dave said. His tone was steady and inquisitive, almost thoughtful. “This place that takes everything unique about you and spins it to make you seem fundamentally fucked up?” He shook his head, laughing ruefully. “Jesus, my teachers thought I was a devil worshiper all sophomore year because I listened to Nirvana. People still call Martha a slut because she had sex with Robby O’Neil two years ago—”
“Dave!” Martha snapped.
Dave gave her a look. “What? It’s fucking true. I don’t think you’re a slut. You get to do whatever the hell you want to do. All I’m sayin’ is—this town puts a label on us the day we’re born. You remember the time Joseph Pinter called Kris ‘white trash’ when he found out her and her mom live in a trailer park? And Mr. Yacoubian was standing right there and didn’t say anything? He’s a teacher and he just let it happen because Joseph Pinter has a white picket fence and Kris doesn’t.”
Krissy felt Billy’s gaze on her face and she lifted her head to meet it. He blinked a few times, then thrust out a hand to Dave. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
Billy had just finished outlining the left ball, the rest of the group watching from the ground, when Krissy heard the two-note warning siren of a cop car.
“Oh shit,” Zoo said, and suddenly they were all clambering to their feet. Martha let out a little shriek that dissolved into giggles and spread among the group. Caleb, who was hammered by this point, tried to stand, but fell backward again with a grunt.
“You guys, get outta here,” Dave said, and in his voice was somehow both a laugh and a warning.
Krissy scanned the field for her Converses, which she’d kicked off earlier.
“Here, Jacobs,” she heard Dave say as she grabbed her shoes and tugged one on. “Gimme that.”
She looked up to watch as Dave extended his hand to Billy. Around them, Martha, Noah, Caleb, and Zoo hurriedly grabbed their things from the ground.
Billy frowned. “What’re you gonna do with it?”
Dave nodded to the police car, which had just parked. “They’re not even out of the car yet. I have time to finish.”
Billy opened his mouth then closed it again, and Krissy suddenly understood what he’d thought was happening. He’d thought Dave—maybe her too, maybe all of them—had set him up, had wanted to watch the king of Wakarusa’s fall from grace, had wanted to see his face splashed in the local paper as the perpetrator of what would no doubt be deemed a “tasteless, offensive prank.”
“Oh, I get it,” Dave said, clearly coming to the same realization. “You thought I was gonna let you take the fall.” He clapped a hand on Billy’s shoulder, gently prying the bottle of weed killer from his hand. “I may be an asshole, Jacobs, but I’m not that kind of asshole.”
Krissy pulled on the heel of her other shoe, then hurried over to slip a hand into Billy’s. “Billy,” she said, grabbing him to follow. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
At her touch, he blinked, turned to face her, and tightened his grip around hers. “Let’s go.”
Krissy, Billy, and the others ran through the darkness, their footfalls stumbling and drunk. Every once in a while, laughter would bubble up in one of them, then spread to another, until they were all bent over with it. Krissy and Billy fell behind the group, but instead of running to catch up, Krissy tugged his arm, pulling him in a different direction. “This way,” she whispered, and Billy followed obediently through the darkness. Before long, the sound of the other footsteps disappeared.
When they were alone, Krissy and Billy slowed to a walk. “Where are we?” Billy said.
“At the edge of the Dixon farm. We can hide in the cornfield.”
“It’s only May. It won’t be tall enough.”
“It will be if we lie down.” She laughed softly, then added, “Such a farmer.”
Her hand still firmly in his, she led them into the cornfield, then knelt into the calf-high crop and lay on her back in one of the rows. The ground felt cool through her T-shirt. Billy clumsily followed suit, and when he settled, there was nothing more between them than a single row of corn, a few inches of air. They lay there quietly, catching their breath.
“So,” Billy said after a moment. “You’re planning on leaving?”
Krissy turned her head to look at him. “Hm?”
“Earlier, at the grain elevator—you said you were leaving.”
“Oh. Yeah.” That afternoon, when he’d walked in, as she painted her nails behind the cash register, they’d made idle conversation, and she’d mentioned her plans for the end of summer.
“Why?”
“Why?” She laughed. “Why d’you think? We live in Wakarusa, Indiana.”
“Right.” A smile flashed on and off his face. “So…where’re you gonna go?”
“New York. Manhattan. I’m gonna be a Rockette.” Just the thought of it made her feel brighter.
“What’s a Rockette?”
“What’s a Rockette?” she said incredulously. “Only the best dancers in New York. The Rockettes are famous. They’re on TV all the time. Have you really never heard of them?”
Billy shook his head. “But you’re definitely good enough. I still remember how good you danced in the eighth-grade talent show. You were amazing.”
Krissy widened her eyes in surprise, then laughed. “Billy, that was eighth grade. These are, like, big-time dancers.” But even so, the compliment felt warm in her chest. She couldn’t believe he’d remembered her dancing from that long ago. “I’m a lot better than I was in eighth grade. Every penny I’ve ever earned I’ve spent on dance classes. And I don’t go to that rinky-dink little studio downtown for kids. I go to one in South Bend every Tuesday and Thursday night.”
“I didn’t know that.”
She nodded. “Yep.” Then she turned her face back to the stars. “Now I just have to save up enough for a bus ride and I’m gone. Well, enough for a bus ride and an apartment and food and stuff.” Her voice faded, her smile falling away. Thinking about everything it would take to get out of this place never failed to overwhelm her. But she didn’t want to worry about that, not now. She turned back to Billy, propping up the side of her head with her hand. “Anyway,” she continued, making her voice bright again. “I’d ask if you were leaving, but I know you’re not. Everyone knows Billy Jacobs is to inherit and run the family farm.” She said the last words as if she were saying the royal throne.
Billy smiled, but it looked soft and almost sad. “No, yeah, I’m not leaving.”
Krissy’s gaze flicked over his face. “Hey. Eeyore.” She had the urge to reach a hand out, to smooth the line that had formed between his brows—so she did. “Don’t think about that right now.”
Even in the dim light of the moon, Krissy could see his cheeks flush at her touch. And suddenly, she knew that he wanted to kiss her, that he was thinking about doing it. But a few seconds passed and he didn’t. “Well,” he said, “what should I think about?”
“Think about…” Her eyes glanced away from his and back again. She couldn’t quite tell if she wanted to kiss him, but then, what was the harm in taking both their minds off other things? What was the harm in kissing this boy in a field under the moon? “Think about this,” she said, and leaned forward, the leaves of the corn crop brushing against her cheeks. Then she pressed her lips to his.
Krissy couldn’t have known then everything that kiss would lead to. If she had, she never would have done it. If she had, she would have run fast in the opposite direction.
* * *
—
In the police station, sitting across from Detective Townsend on the day her daughter disappeared, the memory seemed surreal to Krissy, as if she and Billy had been mere characters in a scene that night, two different people entirely.