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on.”
    â€œBrandy’s in great shape,” I said, admiring the whitewall tires.
    â€œOh, great shape,” echoed Bonita. “She’s going to need a new rad sometime, but other than that, she purrs like a kitten.”
    We loaded our things into the kitten’s trunk, and I saw Tina glance over to the gym to see if our father was watching. He wasn’t.
    Azalea hugged each of us. Bonita took a container of coolant from the trunk, released the hood and filled up the rad, while Tina commandeered the front seat (claiming that if she sat in the rear, the only thing she’d see would be the back of my head.)
    Azalea had a word with me alone.
    â€œYou’re not going to let her go through with this, are you?” she asked, her eyes soft and sad.
    â€œYou know what my sister’s like,” I admitted. “But I will try.”
    â€œGood girl,” she said, giving me another hug.
    â€œAzalea?”
    â€œYes, dear?”
    â€œCan you look in on my father every once in awhile? See that he has food in the fridge?”
    â€œYes, Ellie. I’ll make sure he doesn’t starve.” She opened the car door for me, and I hopped in. “Don’t worry yourself,” she told me. “Have a good trip and bring me back some pictures, you hear?”
    We all waved goodbye as we motored down the street. Bonita honked the horn a few times and turned on the radio. “Wheel in the Sky” played, and with the wind blowing through my hair, I felt pretty smug as the Pier disappeared gradually in the rear-view mirror. I wasn’t just going on a trip, I was leaving the world of men and their fists behind me and watching as a whole new vista opened up. Before long, we were sailing down the highway and I couldn’t have been happier.
    And then came the tragic realization that my utopian state was nothing but a daydream and that Count Ilizarov was waiting at the end of that road, a smile on his face and a hacksaw in his hand.

CHAPTER SIX
    W e stopped near Antigonish at a roadside diner. Bonita had driven for a couple hours by then, and we were all ready for a snack and a chance to stretch our legs. The place was blue with smoke and had rows and rows of booths and round seats lining a counter that ran from one end of the building to the other. People shuffled in and out so quickly, the seats never cooled off, and every time someone in shorts got up to leave, it sounded like the peeling of cellophane from Tupperware as their thighs became unstuck from the leatherette.
    Tina and I followed behind Bonita and looked for an empty booth, but the only one was at the far end. Every eye was on my sister – it was as if she had six or seven neon signs directed at her. Most folks pretended to be eating their fries, but a couple of kids laughed at her. The smacks they received from their mother didn’t do much to help the situation – in fact it only made it worse, since it drew even more attention to my sister and forced the kids into defending their actions.
    â€œBut it’s a little woman,” said the one kid, and the other one nodded in agreement.
    Clearly the waitress hadn’t heard the remark and didn’t realize that Tina was, in fact, a woman.
    â€œHello ladeez,” she panted, pulling a pencil out from behind her ear. “I’m Ruby and I’ll be your waitress today. Our specials are western sandwich with fries, toasted clubhouse with soup and salad or deep-fried shrimp and chips. Coffee’s on the house and children under twelve eat for half price,” she said with a faint smile while pointing her pencil at Tina.
    Then she did a double take.
    â€œSawry,” she added, handing us each a menu.
    â€œI’ll have a slice of lemon meringue pie,” said Bonita, “and you girls have whatever you’d like. It’s my treat.”
    Ruby suggested the shortcake, then apologized again.
    â€œSo, Mama says this Flyin’ Ryan