Free Road To Nowhere by Christopher Pike Page B

to keep her baby. It was good her mind was so clearly made up. Else she couldn’t have endured what was to follow.
    “Henry got mad when he heard of her decision. He spent hours trying to get her to change her mind. She was too young to be a mother. She had to finish school. He was too old to be a dad. He would get fired if the truth came out. Candy reassured him as best she could. You see, she wasn’t asking anything from him. He didn’t have to give her a thing, she said. He didn’t have to acknowledge to anyone that the child was his. Henry listened to her as she tried to explain why she needed to keep the child, but since she didn't even know why, she didn't get very far. But where was there to go? She wanted the baby and he didn’t. Their relationship ended that night, although neither of them admitted it for another month. By then Candy was seeing Henry seldom. She didn’t see him at all when she began to show in a big way.
    “Candy’s child was born on Valentine’s Day – a small dark-haired baby boy of five pounds six ounces. She named him John, but always called him Johnny. Neither Henry nor her parents were present at the birth. They weren’t to blame. Candy gave birth to Johnny in a hospital in a small town on the Oregon coast. She had moved there to get away from it all and to try to start over. By this time she had dropped out of school and gone on to welfare. In a sense her life was in ruins. She had no degree, no money, no man. But Johnny was born healthy and beautiful, and she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone. Or she loved him as much as she had loved John. She always thought of John as the father of the baby, and not Henry. It made no sense, she knew, but that was how she felt.”
    Poppy Corn fell silent. She reached in her coat and knocked out a cigarette. Coughing, she lit it and took a long drag. She stared out the window at the ocean. The waves were black foam, rolling towards invisible sand. Teresa kept waiting for her to continue, but the strange girl remained silent.
    “Well?” Teresa said finally.
    “I’m tired of talking,” Poppy said.
    “Good,” Free said. “I’m tired of listening.”
    “You’re the one who wanted to hear the story,” Poppy said.
    Free twisted round. He was going to have a stiff neck by the time they arrived where they were going – wherever that was. “I wanted to hear the story minus all the added B.S.,” he said.
    Poppy tapped her ashes into her palm. Teresa could see the girl in her rear-view mirror. “There was no B.S. I just knew her better than you is all.”
    “You made her out to be a saint,” Free said.
    Poppy chuckled softly. “Hardly.”
    “But did Candy ever get back together with John?” Teresa asked. She had really got into these characters – despite herself.
    “No,” Poppy said.
    “What?” Teresa grimaced. “You mean they never saw each other again?”
    “They saw each other,” Poppy said. “A few years later – one more time – on a dark and stormy night. Do you want to tell them about that night, Jack?”
    Free was sullen. “No.”
    “Come on,” Poppy taunted.
    Free suddenly smiled. Teresa watched him out of the corner of her eye. The smile was a curious affair: mischievous, grim, excited – all rolled into one. He glanced over at Teresa.
    “Where did we leave John?” he asked.
    “He had just got out of juvenile hall and was searching for Candy,” Teresa said.
    “I didn’t tell you he was searching for Candy,” Free said seriously.
    Teresa stammered. “I – I must have misunderstood you.”
    Free stared at her a moment more before refocusing the road in front of them. The endless road – a single broken white line brushed by headlights that showed nothing new. Teresa wondered if she hadn’t half hypnotized herself, driving so late at night, listening to this story. No, it wasn’t just the story. It was Free and Poppy’s voices. They both had such unusual, sleepy voices – as if they were