Free The Adventures of Flash Jackson by William Kowalski

first, because his ears kind of pricked back and he looked around as he was running. Then Frankie heard it, and then finally me. I turned and watched the road that came from the highway, which was about a ten-minute drive from our place. Sure enough, there was one of those ridiculous new minivans that look like some kind of moon unit, raising up a cloud of dust. Franks stopped Brother and we both stood there watching. Soon the minivan was close, and then it slowed down and stopped in the road. The driver’s window rolled down and a preppy-looking guy with his collar turned up stuck his head out.
    â€œâ€™Scuse me!” he called. “Looking for the Grunveldt farm?”
    â€œRight next door,” I said, pointing.
    â€œThanks,” he said. He rolled up his window— probably didn’t wantto waste his air-conditioning , I thought—and went up another hundred yards to the Grunveldt’s driveway.
    â€œHaley, don’t!” screamed Frankie. “What did you tell him for?”
    â€œJeez, Franks,” I said. “He would have figured it out anyway.”
    â€œI’m not going!” he shouted.
    â€œNot going where?”
    â€œI’m not going back to Gowanda!” he said.
    And with that, he spurred Brother into a graceful leap over the fence and took off across a pasture, heading for God-knows-where. I was so surprised by this that it was several moments before I could remember that I ought to be saying something about it.
    â€œFrankie, come back here!” I yelled. “Where are you going on my horse? Damn it! Frankie!” But he was already too far away. Brother was in a dead run, his long neck stretched out in front of him and his legs working like four pinwheels, almost like a cartoon horse. Brother could really fly when he put his mind to it. It was like he’d thought things over and decided he was on Frankie’s side. I hadn’t seen him run like that since he was a colt.
    â€œOh, shit,” I said.
    I went up to the house in a series of miniature pole vaults. I bumped my foot up against a rock once, and it hurt so bad that for a moment I could only see the color red, nothing else. Never mind what it felt like—those words haven’t been invented yet. Suffice it to say I had to stick my fist in my mouth to keep from screaming. It was way too soon for me to be up and around as much as I had been. I was going to need a whole fistful of those little white pills when this day was over.
    I went inside and called Mother. She came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag.
    â€œFranks took off on Brother,” I said, tears of pain streaming down my face. “I guess some folks are here to see about buying his house, and he got upset.”
    â€œYou let him ride Brother?” she said. “Haley, that was very irresponsible.”
    â€œOh, blow it out,” I said. “What are you talking about? He rides him all the time!”
    Mother reddened. “I beg your pardon?” she said, her voice all ice. “What makes you think you can speak to me that way?”
    â€œWhat makes you think it’s my fault?” I said. “Besides, there’s no time for this. We gotta tell his parents. Ma, he ran away. Okay? He ran away on my horse. He was saying something about Gowanda, too.”
    Mother was mad as hell, but she could see there were bigger problems to worry about. She went to the phone and called up Frankie’s parents. I could hear her talking in a low voice while I went to the window and looked off in the direction Frankie had gone. I didn’t expect to see him, and I was right. He’d vanished.
    Here’s what Gowanda is: It’s kind of a loony bin, a mental facility. All the crazy-people jokes around here are about Gowanda, just like in New York City they talk about Bellevue, which I also know from reading. It didn’t take me longer than two seconds to figure out that Franks was afraid he