Last Kiss by Jon Ripslinger

Author:Jon Ripslinger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: teen, young, adult, fiction, flux
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2007-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

It was six o’clock when I halted my pickup in the drive next to my folks’ farmhouse and killed the motor. The sun was starting to drop in the blue sky. Mom and Dad would be less than delighted with me. I’d walked out on breakfast, and I’d missed supper. And chores.

They’d be wondering where I’d gone, what I was doing to climb out of the cesspool I’d tumbled into, how I was going to stop myself from drowning.

They sat at the picnic table under the willow tree in the back of the house, both on the same side, and watched me closely as I stepped out of the pickup. A pitcher of lemonade with ice cubes in it sweated on the picnic table. Two tall glasses sat on the table, one in front of Dad, the other in front of Mom, both half-full. Turned upside down, a third glass sat on the table.

Mallard bounded out of the bed of the pickup and ran to Mom and Dad, wagging his tail. Obviously, my folks had been waiting for me. They’d never done this before, wait for me outside on the picnic table.

“Hi,” I said sheepishly, expecting an immediate chewing out.

“We were worried about you,” Mom said. “Lemonade? Just squeezed.”

Their faces looked drawn. For the first time in my life I thought they looked a little old, shadows under their eyes from lack of sleep, Dad a little grayer, Mom’s blue eyes troubled. I’d never seen them look like that before, not even a few years ago when they’d had trouble paying their bank loans and thought they might lose the farm. I’d filled their lives with so much sudden and unexpected trauma they were aging right in front of my eyes. Nice job, Billy. You asshole.

“Sit down,” Dad said.

I sat across from him.

“Called Windy’s,” he said. “Hans said you and her went fishing.”

“Went to the Atalissa quarry for a while, just to get away and try to figure things out.”

“What’s she say about all this?” Mom said.

“She’s … ticked at me.”

“Don’t blame her,” Dad said. “So are we.”

“Umm … we went to see Eric Benson and Dr. Wells.”

“Eric Benson?” Mom poured a glass full of lemonade and handed it to me. “Who’s that?”

I explained that Eric had been Lisa’s boyfriend. “I thought he might know something about her death.”

I decided I wasn’t going to mention my suicide theory until I had some kind of proof. A note, maybe.

I took a deep swallow of the cold, slightly sour lemonade and shivered.

Mom said, “She had a boyfriend while you carried on with her?”

“Actually, they weren’t all that close.”

“You think he killed her?” Dad said.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. He could’ve, but I’m not sure what his motive might’ve been. Um … I’ve got something I want to check in the house.”

“What did Dr. Wells say?” Dad said.

“I’ll be right back.” I set my glass of lemonade on the picnic table. “Mallard’s hungry; I’ll get his food.”

“We want to talk to you,” Mom said.

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