Free Home Fires by Luanne Rice

wasn't stupid. She knew that in Kurt's mind her money was theirs and his money was his. If he even had any. A little voice deep inside sometimes told Maggie that she could do better than Kurt. That there were boys who were nice, who knew the meaning of love, or at least respect, who were as good-looking as Kurt.
    But they didn't live on the island. Kurt was the best boy in her class. Twenty years old! No one else had a boyfriend in his twenties. He was tall and handsome, with golden skin and flowing blond hair. His face reminded her of a beautiful cat, with exotic wide green eyes. He could easily be a male model.
    Feeling guilty for even thinking about someone other than Kurt, Maggie pressed his hand to her breast and gave him a long, open-mouthed kiss.
    “We need some more money,” he said, pulling back.
    “It's enough,” Maggie said. “The ride'll be free, the ferry's
free. . . .” The crew guys never charged island kids during the winter.
    “I want to buy weed,” Kurt said.
    Boring, Maggie thought. But she didn't say anything. She resumed scanning the sea for seals.
    “I'll figure something out,” he said, heading toward Vanessa and her bottle.
    They hitched a ride off the ferry with a refrigeration repairman who let them sit in the open back of his pickup as far as Wickland. Perched on the bare metal floor for all those miles made Maggie so cold she honestly thought she might die. She wondered whether her bottom was actually frostbitten.
    She tried to convince the others to stop at a Friendly's for hot chocolate, but no one wanted to spend the money. They stationed themselves on the side of the highway. Maggie hugged herself. She very badly wished she hadn't done this. Her mother was going to kill her.
    Besides, she knew that she could have passed the history test. She wasn't talking an A, or even a B, but she wouldn't have failed. She had just told her friends she hadn't studied because she didn't want them to think she was getting uppity.
    After they'd gone thirty minutes with no luck, taking turns holding the cardboard with BOSTON in big letters printed on it and no one stopping, Maggie said maybe they should head back home.
    “Party pooper!” Vanessa said.
    “We're going to Boston,” Kurt said.
    Smirking, Vanessa sank to her knees. She folded her hands, like a little kid saying her prayers, and she looked at the sky.
    “If only someone stops to give us a ride, so that we don't freeze to death, I swear I'll believe in God,” she said, then started laughing hysterically.
    Maggie went to church with her family every Sunday. Since Karen died she didn't know exactly what she believed. She didn't know how God could let such a thing happen to such a wonderful little girl. To an entire family! But it made her sick, Vanessa being so crude. She tugged Vanessa's collar, trying to get her to stand. But Vanessa flailed at her, pushing her away.
    “I mean it,” Vanessa said, and by now Kurt and Eugene were on their knees, too. All three of them were laughing so hard, they couldn't talk.
    “Send us a ride, and we'll all believe in God,” Kurt said before he collapsed again, whooping with laughter.
    And at that moment a truck stopped. Not some dinky pickup, but a super-huge Peterbilt eighteen-wheeler. The driver opened his window.
    “Boston?” he asked.
    “Yeah,” Kurt said.
    “Hop in.” He unlatched the passenger door. Kurt, Eugene, and Vanessa were still giggling.
    “Aaaah, he would have stopped anyway,” Kurt said.
    “Yeah,” Vanessa said. “We take the belief shit back.”
    Maggie felt so disgusted, she almost didn't climb in after them. But she was so cold. . . . Kurt reached down from the cab and pulled her in. He sat in the passenger seat, and the truck driver told the others they could ride in his little cabin.
    Located right behind the cab was a tiny windowless room with a bed, some cupboards, and a bookshelf with a board across it, to prevent the books from flying around. Heat blasted out of a