Waiting for Augusta by Jessica Lawson Read Free Book Online Page A

take an even half of our food. Don’t be taking extra ’cause you’re a boy. We’re splitsies on everything, got it?” She chewed quickly and swallowed. “Say, what’s this?” Reaching behind my ear with her clean hand, she pulled her wrist back and waggled a coin.
    I snatched Daddy’s ball-marking quarter from her fingers. “Very funny.”
    â€œThanks. Told you I did magic.” She winked. “Got more where that came from. Where’s your kit?”
    Confused, I pointed to my art box, only to see Noni’s scowl from the day before.
    â€œNo, your outdoors stuff. Matches, fishing line, stuff likethat. How’re we gonna make a fire to cook stuff? Come to think on it, what’re we gonna eat after we run outta that pig if we can’t fish?”
    â€œUse your magic if you’re so good. My daddy taught me to butcher a whole hog better than anyone in Hilltop, and I can fish, too. Just didn’t bring a pig or a pole.”
    She was right, of course. I should’ve brought stuff like the things she’d mentioned. Daddy would have. He probably didn’t say anything because he thought it was common sense. Not to me, though. I’d brought paintbrushes, a lucky quarter, a golf book, and clean underwear.
    â€œYou didn’t bring anything useful? What kind of kid are you, anyway?” She saw my face and softened. “Now, I didn’t mean anything, don’t be a lemon wedge. You are who you are. Call it lucky that I am who I am. We’ll be fine.” She stuck a hand in her pocket and came out with a small red pocketknife. “At least I’ve got this. My daddy gave it to me. Not much on it except a blade, a toothpick, and tweezers. The blade’s dull, but it’s something.”
    I took it and pulled out the tweezers, holding them up in a shaft of moonlight. “I’m a lucky boy, all right. This’ll keep us good and safe from splinters.”
    â€œWas that a joke?” She lifted one side of her upper lip, sneering like a mean Elvis. “Not a very good one. Leave the jokes to me, crazy. That knife’s better than nothing. Can’t gut a fish with a paintbrush.”
    â€œAnd you can’t catch a fish with a dull two-inch knife and a toothpick.”
    â€œMaybe I could.” She eyed the urn. “What’s that?”
    I tapped the urn, hoping for a few words, but Daddy didn’t say anything. He’d stopped snoring, too. “This is my daddy. I got to scatter his ashes. We’re going to Georgia.”
    She took another pinch of pulled pork. “Fair enough. That who you’ve been talking to?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œHe talk back to you?”
    I stared at her, considering. Worst that could happen, she’d pick her prickly self up and leave and I’d be out somebody who seemed more pork-eating porcupine than girl. “Would you believe me if I said that my dead daddy’s stuck and he won’t get any peace until he’s scattered on a golf course?”
    Her big eyes got bigger. She dipped her finger in the sauce and licked it clean, then plucked a rib from the container and shut it tight. She looked down at the cover of Daddy’s Augusta National book. “A golf course. That’s a little loony, isn’t it?” After a time, she nodded, her lips flicking around, then settling into a straight line. “I accept the terms of partnership.”
    â€œYou believe me?”
    Noni shrugged and gnawed at the rib. “Some things are true whether other people believe you or not.” She let her head fall back until she was looking at the stars through athick cobweb of willow branches. “My daddy used to say that people meet up with their life on the road they take to run away from it. But I’m not real sure what that means, even though I’ve thought on it now and then.” Without moving her head, she reached out and flicked my knee.