Chapter 7: Zoey on the Bus

The text came on Saturday at four in the afternoon, when the light on the bay was already going orange.

im at the bus station in huron. dont tell grandma.

I read it twice and stood up so fast I knocked over the stool.

"What?" Emmett said from under the hull.

"Zoey. She's in Huron. She took the bus. Two buses, I think. She's thirteen."

He was out from under the boat before I had my coat on.

"My truck's faster."

The truck had a bench seat, and the passenger door stuck.

I climbed in on his side instead, because he had already shoved it open from the inside, and I slid across and ended up in the middle.

The bench was narrow.

My shoulder pressed against his arm, and his arm was hard under the jacket.

He put it in gear and kept both hands on the wheel.

"Is it all right?" he said. "Do you want me to stop and move?"

"It's a short drive," I said.

He took a corner, and the whole cab leaned, and my hip slid against his thigh.

He breathed in through his nose and did not let it out for a moment.

I looked straight ahead.

I noticed that the back of his neck had gone red under the collar, and I told myself it was the heater.

Zoey was sitting on the bench outside the bus station with her backpack on her knees.

She had her braid over one shoulder and her chin up, and she looked about nine.

When she saw me she stood.

Then her face came apart.

I crossed the sidewalk, and she threw her arms around me hard enough to rock me back.

"I hate you," she said into my shoulder. "I hate you. I hate you for leaving."

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