Chapter 12

Chris caught her breath. “Write the note,” she said. “I want to go away now, tonight. I can’t stand being here with rats, and a dead kitty and who knows what and him, Dad, coming home maybe drunk and…” she could not go on but I agreed with every cell in my body.

“Get me some paper,” said Gene grimly. “You guys go pack some stuff. Mine’s still ready to go. Then we’ll decide where, and how. Corny has a car…” she ended, almost whimsically.

“Does Jesus have a car?” I asked, pouting.

“Yes he does, actually! I’ll call him when I get done here.”

Chris and I packed, I mean, threw shit in our backpacks. I didn’t care if I ever came home so I added my music and my Mom’s things, at least, the ring and the letters and the photos, at the last minute. When we went back downstairs, Gene was by the door, her bag by her feet, and an excited smile on her face. I didn’t begrudge her that; it wasn’t her house, wasn’t her Dad. “Jesus is coming!”