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

“So what are you running from?”
    I touched the golf ball in my throat. “Don’t know. What are you running from?” My eyes drifted to her arm bruise. “Are your parents mean or something?”
    â€œI don’t have parents anymore. But no, they weren’t mean.” She tossed the clean rib bone into a bush, her eyes fixed on the place it disappeared. “Mama died when I was a baby, and I lost Daddy on the day I turned eleven.”
    â€œSo he died and you just ran off forever?” I was impressed.
    She shrugged. “There wasn’t anything left for me, so I started following the tracks. Now I’m wandering. That’s my story. Part of it, anyway.” She picked up a twig and started using it as a toothpick. “How much money we got?”
    I dug through the bag and started counting. It didn’t take long at all. I counted again, thinking I must have missed some bills, but nope. “Forty-one dollars and twenty-three cents.” With the safety net of his blindness, I felt fine shooting a dirty look at Daddy. “Must have been a real slow night at Pastor Frank’s.”
    â€œWe’ll make it work.” Noni didn’t sound worried. Maybe she was better at making things work for herself than I was.
    â€œHow long have you been on your own?” I asked, tucking the money into the bottom of the pack. “You don’t look much older than eight.” She was about the same size as me, just with a bigger mouth.
    She kicked her shoe against mine. “Neither do you. I haven’t been wandering long.” She drummed the twig along her teeth. “And I’m eleven, not eight.”
    â€œI’ll be twelve on Saturday.”
    She did her fancy one-eyebrow raise again, adding a click-click with her mouth, like she was telling a horse to get going. “You don’t say. Looks like we’re the same age, at least for a few more days. Well, happy early birthday to you. We’re going to Augusta, right? That’s what you said in the kitchen when you were talking to yourself.”
    â€œYep. And I wasn’t talking to myself.”
    â€œThat’s right, you were talking to ashes, which makes much more sense.” She traced one of the Marlboro patches on the backpack. “Never been to Georgia. Have to get us a bag of Georgia peaches. We’ve got forty dollars, you said? Okay, here’s where you get glad that we’re in this together. I’m good with organizing things.”
    And by that , the willow winked, she means taking over .
    â€œWe’ll take a bus close as we can,” she said, “and then camp to save money for food. Where’s the nearest bus station where no one’ll know you?” She looked excited, like it was her daddy and her mission, not mine.
    â€œSeven miles. Town called Heart.”
    Noni rubbed her hands together. “Okay, listen up, crazy. We better get the earliest ride out of town. We might as well sleep for a couple hours first.” She patted the ground. “I’ll wake us up at four or so.” She disappeared into the sheet tent. “You sleep outside.” She didn’t have a watch, but for some reason I didn’t doubt that at four o’clock I’d be shaken awake.
    Noni’s head popped out again. “Hey, Benjamin Putter? Did you bring a lot of paint and paper?”
    â€œEnough. Why? And how’d you know my name?”
    â€œHeard your mama call you Benjamin and saw your last name on the sign by the back door. And I thought maybe I’d try painting something later on, that’s why. Now leave me alone. I’m trying to sleep. Gotta big day tomorrow—first day’s when they look the hardest, so we got to make a good break from the Heart station. Could be tricky. Don’t want to get caught.” She yawned loudly. “Us needing to save your dead daddy’s everlasting soul and all.”
    Instead of rolling