Junkyard Dogs by Katherine Higgs-Coulthard

Author:Katherine Higgs-Coulthard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Peachtree Teen
Published: 2022-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

Ruthie dozes off and on all that day. I sit on the pallet near her, my mind churning it all together, now and before, Chick and Ruthie, the fire, losing Mom, Dad holed up and bleeding somewhere, Gran. Twig waiting all day for me to take him to the Hot Light, going to bed not knowing if I just disappeared like Dad. I feel so fucking powerless. And angry. What the hell was Dad thinking, just disappearing on us like this? My whole life, he told me to keep my eye on the prize, get myself a scholarship. And I was doing it too. I was supposed to be headed out of this shithole and he just plunged me deeper into it.

I think about taking the money I have, going down to Greyhound, putting it all toward whatever ticket will get me the farthest from here. I picture different versions of that. Colorado or Connecticut. Alone or with Ruthie, maybe Twig, too. But by the time my watch beeps its school-day alarm, I know the only thing I can do is keep on keeping on. Get up, go to school, earn that scholarship so I can get a real job and come back for Twig. Meanwhile, I gotta scrape together whatever money I can to keep Twig living with Gran.

I ease out of the blankets without Ruthie even stirring. Stan’s snoring away, propped in the corner. I touch his shoulder and he leaps up like he’s spring-loaded, a knife in one hand.

“Holy fuck, Stan!” I cry, dodging out of reach reflexively.

Stan shakes his head to clear it and lowers the knife. “Ain’t nobody taught you not to creep up on a man? What you want?”

“Can you stay with Ruthie today?”

Stan looks at me like I just asked him to staple his foot to the floor. “She doesn’t need a babysitter. I got places to be.”

“I know. I just think we shouldn’t leave her alone for a while, is all.”

“Where you going?”

“I need to get to school. I’ve got a test and a big game. If I miss, Coach is gonna—”

Stan thumps the toe of his boot on the floor. “Co-aaa-ch,” he says, drawing out the syllables like a kid teasing his older sister about a crush. “Why you care what he thinks?”

“It’s not really him or what he thinks.” I pause, trying to figure out how to explain it better to Stan than I did to Ruthie. “I just want better for Twig than what I had. I want to get us a house. A home.” I can see it in my head. A kitchen like Matt’s, with one of those breakfast nooks that the whole family can sit at. I’d buy a nice frame for that picture of us all at the beach, Twig holding Mom’s ponytail and laughing at my silly face, and I’d hang that on the wall behind the table.

“I told you, I got a plan for us all. You don’t need school for that. You and Ruthie stick with me, you’ll have a real home soon enough.

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