Read Online The Same Sky by Amanda Eyre Ward - Free Book Online Page A

much—enables you to forget that you are not in charge. God is in charge. But letting go of your fear also means you must accept whatever life God gives to you. I believed, as I prepared for my journey, that God had great plans for me. I saw my reunion with my mother, our picnic lunch, as clearly as I saw the pale sky. I thought this faith gave me strength. Then again, I also believed God would save my brother.

    So I rummaged through the kitchen, finding the last bits of flour and salt, tying a pillow to my backpack so I could be comfortable until someone took the pillow or I had to leave it behind. To reach The Beast, we had to spend two days hiking through jungle, so I washed our socks and shoes and laid them to dry in the sun.
    Humberto stopped by that evening, on his way home from the dump. “You’re not really leaving,” he said, “are you?”
    “I am,” I said. “Are you coming along?”
    “You’re crazy,” said Humberto. “What about me?”
    “You’re invited,” I said, returning to my preparations. Humberto made a huffing sound and kept walking.
    “Don’t go without saying goodbye,” he said over his shoulder.
    “Okay, I won’t,” I said.
    My brother had not come home by dark. I lay down on the pallet and closed my eyes. When I opened them, he was next to me, warm and smelling of sweat and glue. I breathed in slowly, trying to calm myself. Having an addict along on my trip to America was a bad thing. But maybe in Austin, Texas, Junior would be different. A younger, sweeter boy. I cried for just a short time.
    When Junior woke at dawn, I said, “Just tell me why, Junior. Why are you sniffing Resistol?”
    He looked straight at me, unashamed. “When I have glue, I’m not hungry,” he said. He reached inside the pocket of his pants. Before he could unscrew his glass bottle, I slapped it from his hands.
    “No more,” I said. “No more.”
    “You can’t tell me what to do,” said Junior, his tone attempting bravado.
    “Please,” I said.
    “Give it to me,” said Junior. “Give it to me or I’ll go get more.”
    “You don’t have any money!” I said. But then I understood. All I had to do was look to see the empty coffee can on the floor.

14
 
    Alice
    I N COLORADO, YOU felt fall in your bones—the temperatures dropped, the leaves turned flame-colored, and snow began to accumulate on the mountains. In Texas, fall felt about the same as summer: hot as hell. I could only tell that the school year had begun by the hordes of UT students who arrived at Conroe’s, sipping beer through the sweltering mornings. Principal Markson stopped in to celebrate the first day of school with a Sweet Stacy and a lemonade.
    “Are you still up for visiting Evian?” she asked.
    “Sure,” I said, not feeling sure at all.
    “Excellent,” she said, grabbing a Conroe’s BBQ pen. She jotted down directions to Evian’s house on a napkin using her left hand, not wanting to put down the sandwich she was clutching in her right. (In her defense, the SweetStacy does fall apart if you loosen your grip; there’s a lot of meat jammed into that bun.)
    The following weekend, I told Jake I wouldn’t be able to make our usual Saturday afternoon paddle. He had already laid out picnic ingredients in the kitchen. “What do you mean?” he said. “I can’t go without you—I need a shuttle. We always canoe on Saturdays!” Jake put down the mayonnaise and crossed his arms.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, and I was—I loved our lazy trips. I explained that I’d made plans to meet Evian, the troubled teen.
    “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” said Jake, exasperated.
    “I guess because I figured you’d act like this,” I said sharply.
    “All right, fine,” said Jake, lifting his hands and walking out of the kitchen.
    “Hey!” I called. But Jake didn’t answer.
    Though I’d lived in Austin for thirteen years, I had never turned off Oltorf by the train tracks before. I consulted my napkin as I drove.
    Turn