A Prayer for Travelers by Ruchika Tomar

Author:Ruchika Tomar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2019-07-08T16:00:00+00:00

48

After I hung up with Fischer I turned off all the lights in the diner and let myself out. The heat was like Vaseline, sticky and close. I was locking the door when I heard a sound behind me. I could just make out the thin shape of a woman smoking a cigarette in the corner of the porch, her figure illuminated by Christmas lights. If I hadn’t seen Flaca in exactly the same spot so many evenings in a row, waiting for Penny, I wouldn’t have recognized her now.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She brought the cigarette to her lips and took a drag.

“Flaca!”

“Come with me,” she said, “if you’re looking for her.”

“You don’t know where she is.”

“I know where she isn’t.” Flaca dropped her cigarette on the porch and crushed it out. I watch her bend down to pick up the butt. Instead she yanked the Christmas lights, plunging us into darkness. When my vision cleared she was standing closer than before, her features obscured in shadow. I felt her hand groping for my arm, squeezing tight. This close I could smell alcohol on her breath, but her grip was sharp. She had drunk just enough to lubricate herself for whatever she meant to say or do.

“You were supposed to help me,” I said. “What did the sheriff say? Christina Cruz. Hasn’t seen your friend and has no idea where she might be.”

“I already told you. No cops. You want to be Sherlock Nerd, come with me.”

“Not a chance.”

“Why not? You’d go anywhere with her.”

“I actually like her!”

Flaca dropped my arm. For a moment I was certain she would leave. Then she said, “She told me all about it, Cale.”

I felt my heart beat faster. “All about what?”

“She told me about Carr.” She sighed, suddenly weary. “What did you think?”

“I asked you if you heard from her that night. You lied to me.”

“Maybe I wanted to see if you would tell me yourself.”

“Why would I!” I paused. “What did she say?”

She smiled. “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

“Flaca. The longer she’s gone—”

“What? The more dead she gets? She either is or she isn’t.”

I brushed past her down the stairs, but I heard her following behind. Of course Penny told Flaca what happened. They had always been close; Flaca would always know Penny in a way I never could. Still, I had felt certain that Penny had been changing, growing into someone else. Yet if Penny was really gone, then all the girls we had been, or could have been, were gone, too.

“Come on!” Flaca called after me. “What else are you going to do?”

I had reached my truck in the back of the lot. Flaca had parked her beat-up gold hatchback next to it. What had Penny called this car? A deathtrap.

“What else am I going to do?” Flaca said behind me. When I turned around, she had stopped a couple feet away. “Do you know, since Penny’s been gone, the thing

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