The Queen of Kentucky by Alecia Whitaker

Author:Alecia Whitaker [WHITAKER, ALECIA]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: JUV000000
ISBN: 9780316193375
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2012-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

The girl at the front desk only needed one look at the shirtless, frightened teenage boy holding a bloodied dog to page the doctor and get Bandit right in. The waiting room was actually a little more crowded than I would have expected, but no one minded us barging in when they saw our terror and, frankly, all the blood. Luke laid Bandit on a steel table in a small back room and Dr. Switzer asked us to leave, saying that Bandit needed “immediate attention,” which we later found out meant surgery.

When my parents finally showed up, I broke down; I started crying like crazy. My momma pulled me in and rocked me and stroked my hair, murmuring in my ear. My dad stuck out his hand for the usual man-to-man handshake he and Luke always share, but then shocked us all by pulling him in for a long hug. Luke blinked full eyes, pulled away, and walked over to the windows. Then Mr. Whitman approached my folks with a calmer version of what actually happened. I watched the grown-ups huddle together to discuss the situation and decided after a minute that it was all too much.

“Let’s go out back,” I said to Luke.

And now we’re perched on a black rail, waiting for word.

“Bandit was fine this morning,” I say, sniffling. “I fed him and took him water, and he was happy as a lark.” I wipe my nose on my shirt sleeve, a habit my momma hates. “Seriously. He’s such a good dog. I don’t know why I didn’t take him with me to the creek. I always take him with me. I should have taken him.”

“It’s not your fault,” Luke says, looking over at me. “You know that, right?”

I shrug, but I can’t shake the guilt. “It feels like my fault.”

“Yeah,” Luke says, swinging his legs and looking out at the horizon. “Sometimes things feel that way. You know, you just think there must’ve been—must be—something you can do. But in the end, you just gotta do the best you can, when you can.”

I look over at him and see his sharp jaw settling into a deep frown. His pep talk is forced, as if he’s trying to convince both of us… as if he’s not talking about Bandit at all.

“Is that how you feel about the stuff with your mom and dad?” I ask quietly.

He jerks his head toward me and looks at me hard, his blue eyes flashing betrayal. I inhale sharply, shocked by his intensity.

“I’m talking about Bandit, okay?” he says.

I nod quickly.

“God, Ricki Jo!” he says, standing up and turning away. “It’s like I’ve said a million times: I don’t wanna talk about it. But hey! Here we are again, you trying to talk about it. So, okay, you wanna talk about how I feel? Let’s do it. My dad’s a drunk and a jackass. I get it. And you get it. End of story. Jesus Christ!”

He rams his foot into the gravel drive and a few rocks fly out into the yard.

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