Where Does the Money Go? by bumped

Author:bumped [bumped, bumped]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePub Bud (www.epubbud.com)
Published: 2012-02-15T16:00:00+00:00

116/240

Then he starts the engine, stomps the foot pedal, and we make our escape in a swirling dust bowl of gray earth and gravel.

WE DON’T SAY ANYTHING UNTIL MY HOUSE IS IN SIGHT.

“So what’s the plan?” Zen asks.

“What’s what plan?”

“How are we going to get your sister to stay?”

“Not that again,” I huff. “She’s a person, not one of your causes.”

“People are my cause.”

Unlike Zen, I didn’t think much about Harmony all day. After being alone in the house for hours, I imagine that Harmony is eager to see me.

Did she really amuse herself all day by reading the Bible? I get to the front door and I notice that she’s left it unlocked. I’ll need to remind Harmony that even though we’re not in a high-crime zone, we’re not on the farm anymore either.

“Hey, Harmony,” I call out. “I’m home.” No response.

Zen comes in behind me. “Where’s my favorite Goodsider?” No response. The silence makes me uneasy.

“Maybe she’s taking a nap,” I say unconvincingly. When I check the guest room I’m not surprised that it’s empty.

“Maybe she went back home,” Zen says, clearly disappointed.

“Her suitcase is still here.” As is the dress she was wearing when I left this morning, which is folded neatly on her bed . . . next to her veil.

This isn’t good.

Zen pulls on his hair. “I’ll check to see if she left a note or something.” 118/240

I head down the hall and peek inside my room, thinking she might have slept in there again, as she doesn’t know I know she did last night. (I didn’t say anything to her about it because I didn’t want to make her feel more blinked than she very clearly already felt at breakfast this morning.) Though there are signs that she was definitely in here at some point during the day—my bedspread is messed up—she isn’t there now.

“No note,” Zen says.

I start to worry now. If I knew she was back in Goodside, I’d be fine. But all signs point to her being on the loose in Princeton, probably faithing hard in Palmer Square, asking people I know if they have God . . .

“Zen! She went out without her veil! Everyone will think she’s me!”

“So what?”

“What’s to stop her from marching up to Ventura Vida and quoting—oh, I don’t know—the book of Virgin Mary chapter whatever, which says,

‘Thou art a dirty whore and thy pregg is a bastard and thou wilt burn in hell’?”

Zen stops dead. “Does the Bible really say that?”

“YES!” I scream.

“Dose down,” Zen says, his eyeballs flicking wildly in his sockets.

“There’s nothing new on the MiNet about you. Just the same stuff about getting humped by Ventura in the election. And if she does show up, you can always say it’s a prank. . . .”

I scan the unread MiNet queue for the day, thinking maybe Harmony somehow tried to contact me while I was at school. There are few from my parents, a dozen nonsense messages from Lib asking random questions like

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