Free Catch Rider (9780544034303) by Jennifer H. Lyne Page A

water, imagining it was corn liquor trickling through the rocks. I wondered how many people had sat here and thought the same thing. I waited, but all I saw was a big tom turkey fly along the fence line and nearly crash into a utility pole.
    When it started getting dark half an hour later, I gave up and drove to Wayne’s house. He made me a bowl of stew and handed me a blanket.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, girl?” he asked.
    I shook my head.
    â€œIt can’t be all that bad.”
    â€œMind your own goddamn business,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about it.” But then I started crying real hard. Wayne came over and hugged me. His arms were bony, but when he hugged me tight I could feel how strong he was.
    â€œDonald wants to move out to the desert in California,” I said. It hurt more saying it out loud because it made it true. “I know Melinda will do it.”
    â€œWell, that’s about the dumbest thing I ever heard. No Criser has lived or ever will live out in the damn desert.”
    â€œHe wants to work at some oil refinery where his cousin works.”
    I could see a flash of worry deep in Wayne’s eyes that he quickly covered up. The light from the television flickered across his face.
    If we moved to the desert, I would never see Uncle Wayne again. The thought of it made me want to die. I wanted to ask him if I could live with him if that happened, but I was scared he would say no again. I was scared he would tell me he couldn’t have no little girl living with him, that I would have to go with Melinda.
    But I decided to speak up anyway. “Wayne, if they leave, I can’t go there.” I choked up again.
    He looked at me like a statue. Then he crossed his feet in front of the fire.
    â€œYou can stay in the barn. But that donkey might stomp you while you’re sleeping.” He winked. “Of course you can stay here.”
    He threw another pillow to me, and I tucked it under my head and fell asleep. I dared anyone to come get me here at Uncle Wayne’s.

TWELVE
    T HE NEXT MORNING , the sun was bright. It was the first day of September, and the air was clear. I told Wayne I didn’t want to go to school.
    â€œI’ll bush hog the paddock,” I volunteered. “Got enough weeds in there to choke an elephant.”
    â€œI ain’t leavin’ you here to run the damn rotary cutter all by yourself.”
    I made myself go to school, staying far away from the rednecks and skipping lunch entirely. I didn’t tell Ruthie about any of it, how Donald had hit me or that I’d punched Tommy and he’d grabbed me. It would scare her half to death, and she would ask too many questions.
    Ms. Cash talked about
As I Lay Dying.
Her eyes twinkled, and I knew she loved the book. I had read it, and most of the time I didn’t know what the hell was happening, but I liked not knowing. I liked understanding something without having to think about it.
    Most of the kids didn’t get it, and they complained and said it was dumb because the story was told with different people’s perspectives. Why couldn’t the writer pick his main character? Just when you understood one, the point of view changed to someone else.
    â€œMaybe there is no real story. Maybe everyone has a different version, and they’re all a little true and they’re all a little false, and we should respect how everyone else thinks,” one boy said.
    Several kids nodded in agreement.
    â€œGod’s version is the true version,” said a girl. “The writer should try to think in terms of God’s perspective.”
    I laughed out loud.
    Some kids said it was a desecration when the mother’s body fell out of the coffin. Poor Ms. Cash, trying to save their souls from the preacher who told them they weren’t supposed to study anything but scripture.
    Â 
    I rode to the barn with Wayne after school, and the trip seemed shorter this