Free After Dakota by Kevin Sharp Page A

Meredith flips onto her back, swipes her bare foot at the windsock that hangs from the ceiling. “Pat’s always asking about you, y’know.”
    “Why?”
    “I think it’s because of the Dakota thing. I listened when she was on the phone with your mom. They talked about if you’re depressed. Pat gave your mom the name of this guy, Dr. Crumpler. He’s, like, a shrink for kids. He comes to their drunk parties – I mean, cocktail parties.”
    “He sounds old.”
    “He’s pretty old. Like fifty maybe. So, are you depressed?”
    “No! I’m so sure.”
    “I’d be depressed if you died,” Meredith says. “I must cut the strings/Before everything’s lost.”
    Pat’s voice through the door: “I’m going to play tennis, ladies. It’s such a nice day!”
    Meredith shouts back, “Fine, we’re leaving!”
    They ride their bikes to the arroyo, where the red and yellow state flag balloon passes overhead. It’s so close they can hear the whoosh of the flame. Claire gets her camera out of her purse and clicks a couple of shots; one of the men in the gondola waves down at them.
    They follow it for several blocks through the next neighborhood, pedaling fast past the horseshoe driveways, trying to stay directly beneath it. Eventually, the girls run out of gas and stop their bikes at the edge of a field full of young soccer players who buzz around like orange and white ants. Claire takes one final picture.
    “I wish we could ride in a balloon,” Meredith says, pink-faced.
    “My mom would say no.” Claire imagines what they look like to the men in the balloon. What the world looks like. When you get as far up as some of the balloons, everything below would be like a miniature city, the kind in an electric train set. Plastic people waving and smiling next to plastic trees as the train snakes around and around.
    What would it be like to crash in one of those?
    “Let’s go to the mall,” Claire says.
    “I’m not supposed to go that far without telling Pat.”
    “She’s playing tennis, remember?” Claire starts pedaling. “C’mon, race you.”
    At the mall food court, they go from Hot Dog on a Stick, with its pretty girls in colored stripes, to Orange Julius, where a line of blenders whirs in tandem. From there it’s Contempo Casuals, The Limited, and Dillard’s, where Meredith zig-zags among the jewelry counters, practically drooling. Claire likes jewelry too, but not enough to spend all day leaning on glass cases. The saleswoman watches them from under her beehive hairdo.
    Claire sees the coat display the moment they enter Juniors. White, with fur around the collar and sleeves. She hands Meredith her Orange Julius cup and tries it on in front of the triple mirror.
    “That is literally the nicest coat ever,” Meredith proclaims. “You look so pretty.”
    It is the nicest coat ever. Claire’s glad she tried it on first; now she has dibs between the two of them.
    Meredith looks at the dangling tag. “Real fox fur. Someone killed a fox to make that.”
    “And he’s already killed so I might as well wear it.”
    “Claire, it’s two hundred bucks!”
    “I’ll ask for it for Christmas.” She and Bryce each get one gift from their parents, so they have to make it count. Not like Meredith, who gets a ton of stuff and even gets presents on Easter. And has her own phone in her room!
    Meredith leans close to the center mirror to pop a zit on her forehead. Claire spins left and right like a fashion show model.
    After the mall, the girls stop at the pharmacy, with the old man up at his high counter, counting pills into bottles. Grouchy and always wiling to harass kids, yelling at them to leave their backpacks outside of his cluttered, dusty empire. Inside, the usual routine: Meredith looks at the spinner rack of Harlequin romance novels, Claire pockets some candy, they walk out. They share a Hershey bar on the way home; while Meredith won’t steal anything herself, she’s more than happy to reap the rewards of