wondered if they were looking for her yet. Probably not. What did they care anyway? They had Jennifer the Great. Her eyes watered, and she blinked back tears furiously. It didn't matter. The hell with all of them.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
They would think she was in school being bored shitless with U.S. history. Who the fuck cared what old farts signed the Declaration of Independence? Today, she was signing her own. She'd never have to sit in a classroom again or listen to lectures on cleaning her room or turning down her music or not wearing so much makeup.
What's wrong with you, Carly?
her mother would always ask.
Why do you act this way? I don't understand you.
Damn straight she didn't understand. No one did.
Carly turned around, sticking her thumb out again. But she wasn't feeling so cheerful. She'd been on the road four hours, and her defiance was rapidly turning to self-pity. As a tractor-trailer zoomed by, kicking dust in her face, she briefly considered moving across the asphalt and heading north, and home again.
The hell with that, she thought, straightening her slumping shoulders. She wasn't going back. Let them come looking for her. She wanted so badly for them to come looking for her.
With a little sigh, she moved off the gravel onto the grassy slope, toward some shade, where she sat down.There was a rusty barbed-wire fence behind which cows lolled lazily. In her pack with her bikini, her Levi's wallet, hot pink shorts, and extra T-shirt was a duo of Hostess cupcakes. She ate both, licking the chocolate and filling from her fingers as she watched the cows graze.
She wished she'd thought to stick a couple of cans of Coke in the pack. As soon as she found some little hick town, she would buy some, and more Marlboros. Glancing at her watches, she saw that it was just past noon. The school cafeteria would be crowded and noisy now. She wondered what the other kids would think when they found out she'd hitched all the way to Florida. Man, they'd be green. It was probably the coolest thing she'd ever done. They'd really pay attention then. Everyone would pay attention.
She dozed awhile and woke cramped and groggy. After swinging on her pack, she tromped back to the edge of the road and cocked her thumb.
Christ, she was dying of thirst. Crumbs from the cupcakes seemed to be lodged like pebbles in her throat. And she wanted another smoke. Her spirits lifted a bit when she hiked past a sign.
EMMITSBORO 8 MILES
Sounded like Hicksboro, but as long as they sold Coke Classic and Marlboros, it was fine by her.
She was delighted when, in less than ten minutes, a pickup slowed and pulled over. Earrings and bracelets jangling, she trotted to the passenger door. The guy inside looked like a farmer. He had big hands with thick fingers and wore a baseball-style cap with some feed-and-grain store advertised over the bill. The truck smelled pleasantly of hay and animals.
“Thanks, mister.” She hopped into the cab of the truck. “Where you heading?” “South,” she told him. “Florida.”
“Long trip.” His gaze skimmed her backpack before he pulled out on the road again. “Yeah.” She shrugged. “Well.” “Going to visit relatives?”
“No. Just going.” She shot him a defiant look, but he smiled.
“Yeah, I know how that is. I can take you as far as Seventy, but I got to make a stop first.”
“Hey, that's cool.” Pleased with herself, Carly settled back.
Deep in the woods, deep into the night, the cold, clear note of a bell sounded. As the moon rode high in a black sky, the circle of thirteen chanted. They sang a song of death.
The altar writhed and strained. Her vision was blurred because they'd taken away her glasses and given her some kind of injection when they'd tied her up. Her mind seemed to be floating up and down. But deep inside it, there was an ice-cold fear.
She knew she was naked, that her arms and legs were spread wide and tied down. But she didn't know where she was, and her groggy mind
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
They would think she was in school being bored shitless with U.S. history. Who the fuck cared what old farts signed the Declaration of Independence? Today, she was signing her own. She'd never have to sit in a classroom again or listen to lectures on cleaning her room or turning down her music or not wearing so much makeup.
What's wrong with you, Carly?
her mother would always ask.
Why do you act this way? I don't understand you.
Damn straight she didn't understand. No one did.
Carly turned around, sticking her thumb out again. But she wasn't feeling so cheerful. She'd been on the road four hours, and her defiance was rapidly turning to self-pity. As a tractor-trailer zoomed by, kicking dust in her face, she briefly considered moving across the asphalt and heading north, and home again.
The hell with that, she thought, straightening her slumping shoulders. She wasn't going back. Let them come looking for her. She wanted so badly for them to come looking for her.
With a little sigh, she moved off the gravel onto the grassy slope, toward some shade, where she sat down.There was a rusty barbed-wire fence behind which cows lolled lazily. In her pack with her bikini, her Levi's wallet, hot pink shorts, and extra T-shirt was a duo of Hostess cupcakes. She ate both, licking the chocolate and filling from her fingers as she watched the cows graze.
She wished she'd thought to stick a couple of cans of Coke in the pack. As soon as she found some little hick town, she would buy some, and more Marlboros. Glancing at her watches, she saw that it was just past noon. The school cafeteria would be crowded and noisy now. She wondered what the other kids would think when they found out she'd hitched all the way to Florida. Man, they'd be green. It was probably the coolest thing she'd ever done. They'd really pay attention then. Everyone would pay attention.
She dozed awhile and woke cramped and groggy. After swinging on her pack, she tromped back to the edge of the road and cocked her thumb.
Christ, she was dying of thirst. Crumbs from the cupcakes seemed to be lodged like pebbles in her throat. And she wanted another smoke. Her spirits lifted a bit when she hiked past a sign.
EMMITSBORO 8 MILES
Sounded like Hicksboro, but as long as they sold Coke Classic and Marlboros, it was fine by her.
She was delighted when, in less than ten minutes, a pickup slowed and pulled over. Earrings and bracelets jangling, she trotted to the passenger door. The guy inside looked like a farmer. He had big hands with thick fingers and wore a baseball-style cap with some feed-and-grain store advertised over the bill. The truck smelled pleasantly of hay and animals.
“Thanks, mister.” She hopped into the cab of the truck. “Where you heading?” “South,” she told him. “Florida.”
“Long trip.” His gaze skimmed her backpack before he pulled out on the road again. “Yeah.” She shrugged. “Well.” “Going to visit relatives?”
“No. Just going.” She shot him a defiant look, but he smiled.
“Yeah, I know how that is. I can take you as far as Seventy, but I got to make a stop first.”
“Hey, that's cool.” Pleased with herself, Carly settled back.
Deep in the woods, deep into the night, the cold, clear note of a bell sounded. As the moon rode high in a black sky, the circle of thirteen chanted. They sang a song of death.
The altar writhed and strained. Her vision was blurred because they'd taken away her glasses and given her some kind of injection when they'd tied her up. Her mind seemed to be floating up and down. But deep inside it, there was an ice-cold fear.
She knew she was naked, that her arms and legs were spread wide and tied down. But she didn't know where she was, and her groggy mind
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