She gave Rusty a glance of triumph.
“The only thing is,” I said, “it might be dangerous.”
“That’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Do you mind if you get us hurt?” Rusty asked her.
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“Oh, yeah? What if we get chased and you’re too slow and we have to run back to rescue your fat ass and like Dwight gets killed all because of you?”
“Quit it, Rusty,” I said.
A stubborn look in her eyes, Bitsy told him, “You just don’t want me to come. But it’s okay with Dwight. He said so.”
She looked at me for confirmation.
“Sure,” I said. “If you really want to, you can. But we are going to Janks Field. No telling what might happen. There’s the dog, and ...”
“I’m not scared.”
“You oughta be, you little twat.”
“Rusty!”
She turned on him. “I’m gonna tell!”
“Go ahead. See if I care.” To me, he said, “Damn it, Dwight, we can’t take her to Janks Field. She’s my sister. What if something does happen to her?”
“We’ll make sure she’s all right,” I told him. To Bitsy, I said, “Are you really sure you want to come? It’s not just dangerous, it’s a long walk. Five or six miles,” I added, exaggerating slightly.
“Is not,” she said.
“Round trip.”
“I can walk that far.”
“Sure you can,” Rusty muttered.
“I’m coming,” Bitsy said. “Right, Dwight?”
“If you really want to,” I told her.
“I do.”
“One thing, though. You can’t come with us barefoot. It’s a long walk and Janks Field has all sorts of broken glass and stuff....”
“Spiders and snakes,” Rusty added.
“You have to put some shoes on,” I told her.
An eager look in her eyes, she said, “Wait right here.” Then she swung around and trotted to the back stairs. She hustled up them, pulled open the screen door and entered the kitchen. The door banged shut.
Rusty and I looked at each other.
I nodded.
We split.
Ran like hell around the corner of the garage, cut across the neighbor’s yard, made it to the sidewalk and didn’t stop running till we reached Route 3. Panting and drenched with sweat, we stopped by the side of the pavement. I walked in slow circles while Rusty bent over and held his knees.
When he had his breath back, he straightened up and grinned at me and shook his head. “Good man,” he said.
“Yeah, well.”
He patted me on the back, and we walked up Route 3. On both sides of us, the woods were tall and thick. Though the sunless afternoon made the road ahead of us look gloomy, in there among the trees there was hardly any light at all.
After a while, Rusty said, “Bet she never thought you’d ditch her.”
“I know.”
“That’s why it worked.”
“Yeah.”
He patted me on the back some more. “I can’t believe you did that to her.”
I glowered at him.
“Just kidding, man. It was brilliant.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“Blew that one.”
“If she’d just listened to reason...”
“Ha!”
“I tried to talk her out of coming.”
“You did your best. Anyway, she had no business butting in like that. Not to mention threatening to tell on us. Serves her right.” Rusty chuckled softly.
“What?” I asked.
“Just thinking about the look she must’ve had on her face when she came back out and we were gone.”
“It’s not funny.”
The humor left his face. “Just hope she doesn’t decide to come after us. I wouldn’t put it past her.” Scowling, he looked over his shoulder.
I looked back, too. The road behind us was deserted, at least to where it curved out of sight about thirty feet away. “Maybe we’d better hurry,” I said.
We picked up our pace.
Every so often, we glanced back.
I felt lousy about ditching Bitsy.
I told myself that she had no business going with us in the first place. She wasn’t really one of us and we might be running into trouble. If things went bad, she could hardly be counted on to take care of herself. Saving her would be our job and we didn’t need that sort of responsibility.