Further Joy by John Brandon Read Free Book Online Page A

the museum’s. Kim knew which way the city was, and this wasn’t it.
    â€œSo I decided we’re not going to do the extra credit.” Franklin was picking things out of the cup holders in the console—gum wrappers, paperclips, parking garage cards—and tossing them into the back of the car. “I hope you didn’t get your heart set on seeing paintings. My grade isbeyond help. It would be a waste of time in that respect. And really, you’ve seen one museum, you’ve seen them all.”
    There was a huge book on the floorboard by Kim’s feet. She picked it up with two hands and twisted around so she could set it on the back seat. “Okay,” she said. “So no museum.”
    â€œWe can find a better use for a nice day like this, so here’s what I’m thinking. We go to this farm I know where we can get fresh fruit, then we go to this… well, it’s like a sculpture garden, and then we’ll have a picnic where we can eat the fruit we got at the farm. It doesn’t sound like much of an itinerary, but believe me, it’ll be enough.”
    Kim couldn’t help but laugh. Nothing was funny. She felt a little snuck up on. “I’m not the one with a GPA to think about,” she told Franklin.
    â€œDon’t remind me. Do me a favor: I’m going to take a vacation from GPAs and permanent records today. Let’s not mention any of that.”
    Kim ran her window down with the button, then changed her mind and rolled it back up. She had a feeling she should protest, that she shouldn’t allow herself to be swept along on this new course, but the feeling was too remote. She didn’t know what the grounds for the protest would be. She looked over at Franklin, and his face betrayed nothing at all, just concentration on the road, peaceful focus. There was something about him that seemed above dishonesty, like he wouldn’t bother with it.
    â€œHope you don’t mind if we abstain from the radio today,” he said. “I’m taking an indefinite break from music. I think I listened to too much of it in too compressed a time frame. I’m really sick of songs.”
    They proceeded over a couple overpasses, then a low bridge that spanned a still river. They were taking a back way out of the suburbs. There were a bunch of quiet apartment complexes out here that were neither upscale nor crummy. A big hardware store that didn’t seem open for business yet. Franklin had a firm grip on the top of the steering wheel, his wiry forearm muscles tensed. He had wispy sideburns, the kind you’d trim with scissors rather than shave. His lips were bright red, his skin healthy-looking against his shirt. Kim suddenly thought about how she looked, what she was wearing. Her toenails were freshly painted and her navy blue shortswere probably a little shorter than they should’ve been for an outing with a teenage boy, especially when she was sitting down. She rested her hands on her thighs and tugged at the material. She’d packed these shorts, she remembered, thinking she and Rita might go down to the lake, to get some sun and catch up. Turned out they hadn’t gone anywhere alone, hadn’t done a bit of catching up.
    They passed an ice cream stand with a lone customer standing in front of it, then a big empty lot with a hill of reddish lawn mulch at its center. There was a part of Kim that was happy in a simple way, at being away from Galesburg and now away from Rita and her friends, getting driven around on a warming aimless weekday. The houses around them were growing austere, the yards turning into fields. Franklin slowed the car in front of an out-of-place Tudor-style strip mall, but he didn’t pull into it. Just past the mall he made a left, and they rolled down a bumpy lane lined with homes of all styles and sizes. Some of the yards were overgrown and strewn with tools or toys, and some were neat as a pin. They passed