A loud pop!
“Goddamn it! Motherfucker!” I scream, slamming my fist into the steering wheel.
The car slows to a stop.
“What just happened?” Agnes asks.
I bury my face in my hands. My whole body is shaking, and I ain’t sure she can hear me when I answer.
“Motherfucking flat tire.”
“I crossed the line, didn’t I?”
The beer buzz was long gone.
We were back at Colt’s mama’s trailer. She was out for the night, and it was just Colt and me there. Alone.
I always thought it would be exciting or maybe a little scary to be alone with a boy—especially one I liked—but right now, all I was feeling was guilt and regret.
Colt didn’t answer my question, which I knew meant yes, I had. I’d done more than crossed the line. I’d trampled on it.
“I can’t believe I said that.” I sat down on the edge of his little twin bed.
His bedroom was tiny. Smallest bedroom I’d ever seen. But something about that made me feel safe. There were posters up on the walls, but I couldn’t see what they were of. Sports teams, I figured. That’s what all boys put on their bedroom walls. Other than that, though, the room seemed awful bare. And there were cardboard boxes packed and lined up all along the wall.
“It definitely wasn’t the nicest thing I’ve heard you say,” Colt agreed, sitting down beside me.
“But she just kept pushing,” I told him. “I know it doesn’t justify it. But she just wouldn’t listen. My parents aren’t like hers. They barely let me breathe without being watched—let alone go to another state for a week without them.”
“Have you talked to them about that?” Colt asked. “About how they treat you?”
“No. There’s no point.”
“You don’t know that.”
I groaned. “Not you, too.”
“I ain’t talking about Nashville. Forget about that,” he said. “I’m just talking about you. You should tell them how you feel. They might listen. Might not start letting you run wild or nothing, but they might let you make a few choices, at least. Make it so you don’t have to lie about where you’re going.”
“Yeah … maybe.”
But I didn’t believe it. I’d never realized just how tight my parents kept the leash until I met Bo. Maybe because, before that, I’d never been given a chance to pull at it. Then she came along, and I had a reason to go out, to leave the house, to be like any other girl. And they didn’t even want me walking home from the damn bus stop.
“Far as Bo goes …” He shook his head. “Sometimes she wants things so badly, I think it hurts her. Blinds her.” He paused. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s fine,” I said.
“Anyway … She gets these ideas in her head. Ideas about going to Nashville, yeah, but ideas about people, too. And she holds on so tight she can’t see when it’s better to let go. Not until she gets let down. Sad part is, I think she expects people to let her down. But it ain’t stopped her from wanting.”
“That’s why she’s Patsy,” I murmured.
“Huh?”
“Nothing … But maybe it’s not sad. Maybe it’s great she hasn’t given up on wanting things.”
“Wanting things is dangerous when you’re like us,” Colt said. Then he turned to look at me. And we were so close all of a sudden. I could see the color of his eyes. That rich sweet-tea shade. “It’s different for you, though. I think you could stand to want for more.”
“I want things,” I said. I was thinking of something I wanted right then. Something I’d never wanted before he sat this close to me.
“Maybe, but you don’t seem to do nothing about it. Bo chases what she wants, even if it ain’t good for her. You act like you’ve done give up.”
I should’ve been mad about that. Should’ve told him that he barely knew me. How could he have a clue what I wanted or how much I wanted it? But it was hard to be mad when I knew he was right. I said I wanted out of Mursey, said I wanted my parents to treat me differently, but I never tried. Never pushed. Not like Bo.
I wasn’t ready to fight for those other things. Not yet. But I could go after the thing I wanted now.
“I know you like Bo, Agnes. But be careful. It ain’t easy to love a Dickinson.”
That didn’t stop me, though. I leaned toward him and, before I could think twice, kissed Colt Dickinson.
It was quick. Fast. And I missed his mouth—hit right on the corner of his lips. I pulled back a little, wishing my eyes were good enough to really make out facial expressions.
Colt was quiet, and for a second I was scared I’d done something wrong. But then he leaned in, put his hands on my cheeks, and guided my mouth back to his.