In the hell? Are you doing?”
He had froth around the corners of his mouth and she could barely understand his bellow. Until, suddenly, she could.
“Fuck, no! I would never,” she yelled, and squeezed hard. Wrecker paused in his thrashing. Melody roughly spun the boy to face her. He dropped his chin and she reached out and lifted it until his eyes were forced to meet hers. “I would never let him take you. Never. Not him and nobody else. Do you understand me? Never.” He watched her and she thought, Oh God let it be true. Forget everything else I have ever asked of you and give me the strength for this one thing.
She felt him reach his gaze behind her eyes and grope around for the shape of her prayer.
For today. Okay.
His body relaxed some under her grip and she eased off a bit. Melody glanced over her shoulder and saw that they’d attracted an audience. She dragged her shoulder across her cheek to wipe the sweat and elbowed toward the school. “You going in?” He barely blinked but she understood him. “Then get in the car,” she muttered, and released him.
Wrecker did as he was told. Melody stood and faced the small crowd that had assembled. Their faces were aghast. “Well,” she said. She tugged on the hem of her jacket and cleared her throat. “I guess we’ll see you on Monday,” and she managed a wave before bolting for the bus and pulling away.
Wrecker was laughing softly. The color had come back into his face. “Did you see them, Deedee?” he asked. “Did you? They looked like—”
Melody brought the bus to a screeching, shuddering stop in the middle of the road. “Wrecker,” she said, her voice trembling. “I swear to God I will not give you away. But do not hit me again. Understand? Because—”
“Okay.”
“Because—”
“O-kay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” she muttered, and shifted into gear and started forward again. They were as real as it could possibly get for each other. That woman in jail—“Okay,” she said. She started to laugh. It tasted like salt and lilacs, like snot and pine needles and a torn heart. “Okay,” she said again. Wrecker was laughing hard. He was starting to hoot. “Okay.” Torn but still functioning. Okay. It would have to be.
Melody maneuvered the bus fitfully up and down the small hills and around the bends as the road traversed the valley and headed for the sea. Wrecker hummed to himself beside her. He seemed pleased to have the afternoon off. Melody squinted at him. He bounced back fast, but for her? It had been weeks and still she couldn’t shake the scare of Willow’s trip to the prison. It had flattened her confidence and left her second-guessing every move she made with the boy, looking over her shoulder for the long arm of judgment to snatch him away.
All this, because of that damned check. It had come in the mail without warning, a piddling inheritance that was the scant remainder of Meg’s parents’ estate once the banks and the creditors and the government and the lawyers got through taking their cut. It was laughably small, but Len was adamant. It wasn’t right for one daughter to inherit everything. He didn’t care what the will specified; as Meg’s guardian, he wouldn’t let her accept it. He would locate Lisa Fay and deliver her half.
He would not, Willow said. She was due for a trip to the city. She would take the money.
When Melody caught wind of the plan it raised every hair on her body. Len had launched some bad ideas before, but this one was terrible. Rotten as a fetid fish and just as dangerous, and Melody had not had a single stinking say in the matter. When she’d tried, both Len and Willow had gazed at her—gently, affectionately, entirely blankly—and then went back to debating the best way to handle the situation. When she’d shouted with exasperation that she was the one raising the kid and should therefore be party to this decision, they had finally paused and paid attention.
“Melody,” Willow said, somewhat quizzically. “This is not about you.”
“It’s about Wrecker!”
Len and Willow looked at each other, considering, and then back at Melody. “No,” Willow said, “it isn’t, actually.” It was about Meg, she explained, and Meg’s sister. And their parents. It was a small part about Len, who wouldn’t cash the check unless he could split it with Lisa Fay. “None of it is about me. That’s why I’m the