I shoved the money into Evan's hand, and was gone, outside, before he could do more than mutter a protesting, "Hey-"

Outside, I walked up the sidewalk to the front of the hardware store, and p some change into the pop machine. I pulled out an orange

Fanta and popped the lid off the bottle.

When I turned around, I saw where Daniel had parked, across the street, and he was in conversation with a couple of other guys, one of whom I

recognized as a friend of his from high school.

He saw me, standing there by the pop machine, and he gave me a brief wave. I waved back, and took a long drink of my pop.

I was just starting across the street to Daniel's truck, when Evan came out of the grocery store, his arms full of bags, and one dangling

from his hand.

"Harlie! Comere," he ordered.

I sighed and went over to him.

"Take this one, quick," he said. "I'm about to drop it."

I took the bag that was hanging precariously from his fingertips, and we started walking across the street.

Evan was putting some of the bags in the back of the truck, and the milk up in the cab, so it wouldn't get so hot.

"What's the deal?" he demanded of me.

"What?" I asked.

"Takin' off and leaving me with all the groceries," he said.

"You managed okay," I said mildly, and he gave me an irritated glance.

"I needed a drink," I said, to appease him. "I was about to pass out from being so thirsty."

Again, with a look from him. "Hmmph," he said.

"Just expire right away," I said, pretending to fan myself like a Southern belle.

"You're no delicate little flower," he returned, but he didn't sound irritated any longer.

Just as Daniel was telling the other guys goodbye, and getting behind the wheel of the truck, I was sliding into the middle, moving

the jug of milk as I did so.

Evan got in after me, and we were off, heading out of town.

"How was the grocery store?" Daniel asked me.

"Exciting as always," I said lightly.

"No problems?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Who were you talkin' to?" Evan asked then.

I knew very well he meant me, and I felt a rush of panic that he'd seen Seth, but I tried to play it off.

"Daniel, Evan wants to know who you were talking to," I said, with humor.

"I mean you, and you know it," Evan said.

"Well, let's see," I said. "I think I might have said hello or how are you to Mrs. Perkins-"

"Quit bein' a smartass," Evan said.

"But it comes so naturally," I said, and crossed my eyes at him, hoping to divert him from the topic.

"Really, Har, come on," Evan said. "I could tell you were talkin' to somebody out back of the store."

I gave him a look, and then said, "The checkers take their breaks out there, you know."

There. That was the truth, and I hadn't lied, either. I just hadn't mentioned Seth. Let Evan think it was one of the girls

that worked there.

Evan exchanged a look across me with Daniel. There was silence in the cab for a few uncomfortable moments.

I looked from one to the other.

"What?!" I demanded in irritation.

"You're actin' strange," Evan said, studying me.

"If I am, it's because you guys act as though I'm serving time, and you're my wardens!" I said, feeling really angry. "I can't even

go to the grocery store without being interrogated about who I talked to!"

"Evan didn't mean it like that," Daniel said, sort of quietly.

"Yes, he did," I snapped, and crossed my arms, staring straight ahead.

"I was just asking," Evan said. "I thought I saw a guy out there with you."

I refused to look at him. What did he have, Superman vision or something? I was honestly, vastly angry right then.

"For you guy's information," I said, without looking at either of them, "I'm not six years old any longer. I'm allowed to speak

to people I see, even if it's just somebody from the grocery store!"

"Simmer down," Daniel said, and I thought he sounded a little amused at my tirade.

"Yeah. Good gravy," Evan said. "I didn't intend to start World War III."

"Get me a nun's habit, and put me in a monastery," I ranted on. "Then you won't have to worry about me. I'm sure

that it won't matter that we're not even Catholic!"

"Don't they have to take a vow of silence or somethin', Ev?" Daniel asked, his tone full of humor.

"I think so," Evan said, going along with the teasing.

"Well, then, that lets you out completely, squirt," Daniel said. "There's no way you could keep quiet. Especially when you're

mad."

I gave Daniel a furious look. Now things HAD gotten real. Even Daniel was making me angry!

I clamped my lips tight, and Daniel laughed. Evan was grinning, too, and I lost what was left of my sensibilities.

"Both of you, just SHUT it up!" I snapped.

For a long moment there was silence in the truck cab. You could have, as the saying goes, 'heard a pin drop'.

"There's no need for you to get hateful about it," Daniel said, his voice quiet, but curt. "We're just teasin' you a little bit."

I looked at him, and our eyes met, briefly, before he turned his attention back to the road ahead. Evan was looking out the window

now, stiff and unapproachable.

I was, I thought, in sudden regret, behaving badly. They had just been teasing. And Evan had only asked a couple of

questions. There was nothing unusual about that. Protective of me, and all of that.

"I'm sorry," I said, quietly. I meant it for both of them, but neither one said anything in response.

"I'm edgy, I guess," I said. "I shouldn't have said that." I looked at Evan. "Sorry for being so bitchy, Ev."

"Alright," Evan said.

I looked the other way towards Daniel. "I probably couldn't do the vow of silence thing," I said, trying to lighten up the

atmosphere.

"Probably not," Daniel said, but I couldn't tell if he was still mad or not.

The rest of the way home I was silent. They talked to each other, about basic things; a poker game that Daniel's friend was

setting up, when one of the cows might have her calf, stuff like that.

I was getting a headache. Whether from the heat, or too much sugar, I wasn't sure. I remembered, with regret, that at

breakfast I'd had pop tarts and a doughnut, instead of oatmeal or something better.

To top it off, I was feeling all mixed up inside about Seth, and the kiss that we'd shared. Now I was in the position of having

to hide something more from my brothers. I couldn't tell them I'd even talked to him, let alone kissed him.

He was the enemy, after all! There was no way he could redeem himself, ever, in their eyes. I wasn't so certain about him

redeeming himself in mine, either, but it was tempting to consider it.

If any one of them knew what had transpired today, though, they wouldn't stop to ask questions. They'd tar and feather Seth, run

him out of town on a rail, or a 20th century version of one of those things, anyway.

Daniel parked up close to the house, and Evan grabbed three of the grocery sacks, and got out, going into the house.

I picked up the other sack, and then dumped what was left of my orange soda on the ground. Leaving the bottle in the back of Daniel's truck,

I hooked my fingers over the handle of the milk jug.

Daniel reached into the bed of the truck for the beer, and we began to walk together.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked him, softly, feeling weepy and emotional.

"You mean because you're actin' like a brat?" he returned.

"I said I'm sorry!" I reminded him, pausing on the bottom step of the porch.

Daniel paused, too, looking at me somberly, his dark eyes intent. "Do I tell you to shut up?" he asked me then, surprising me.

"No," I said.

"Then don't say it to me," he said, his voice clipped. "Or to anybody else around here."

"Okay."

"Okay," he echoed, and went on up the steps, where he held the door open so I could pass in front of him.

7

Once I'd helped take the food and milk to the kitchen, I went up the back stairs without saying anything to anybody. I

went to my room and took off my sneakers, and changed from my jeans to shorts. I laid down on my bed, and even though it was

only the middle of the afternoon, I had no problem falling asleep for a nap.

When I woke up, I still had a headache. It was actually a little bit worse than before. I got up and went to the bathroom, taking

Tylenol from the bathroom medicine cabinet. I used my hand for water to swallow them with. The Dixie cup dispenser was empty again.

I went back into my room and laid back down on the bed. It was nice, just lying there, in the peace and quiet in my little room.

I think I might have dropped off to sleep again, except Guthrie popped his head into my room, around the door that I'd left half-open.

"Hey, Har," he greeted me. "Let's go fishin'."

"Not right now, Guth."

"How come?" Guthrie asked, coming on into my room, and biting into an apple.

"Headache," I said briefly.

"Oh," he said, looking concerned. "Need some Tylenol?"

"I took some."

"Want me to get Hannah for ya?" he offered.

"No. I don't want anybody fussing. I'm okay."

When Guthrie had gone, I felt a wave of guilt come over me. He would be so upset with me if he knew about my interaction with

Seth. He's had a hate thing for Seth from the very beginning. There was no way, absolutely none, that he would even begin to understand.

Since having Guthrie upset with me is one of the things in life that is most abhorant to me, well, I didn't want to go there.

I was curled up in my quilt, when I heard someone else at my half-open door. I turned my head.

"Hi," Clare said.

"Hi."

"Have a headache, huh?" she asked.

"I told Guthrie not to say anything," I groused.

Clare came over to stand beside my bed. "I brought you some peanut butter and crackers," she said, in reference to the plate

in her hand.

"Thanks." I scooted so I was sitting up, and Clare handed me the plate, before sitting down on my bed, too.

I munched on the snack and said, "I think I've messed my level up, eating junk food. And drinking pop."

"Well, start over fresh today," Clare said, in her non judgemental way.

I looked at her, feeling again, grateful that I'd met her that day over a year ago, in the club that Daniel was singing at.

"Is Ford home yet?" I asked.

"He wasn't yet."

"I hope he's alright," I fretted.

"I'm sure he is."

"Ford's so nice, he lets people run over him sometimes," I said.

"He didn't in town that day, did he? When those guys were harassing you two?"

"No. He didn't. But I still worry about him," I said.

Clare smiled a little. "You worry about the boys every bit as much as they worry about you."

"I guess."

"Can I ask you something?" I asked, after a couple of moments.

"Absolutely," she said, lying back on my bed, and propping her head on her elbow.

"Do you think that a guy who's basically always been a jerk, can change?"

"I think some guys can change."

"But not all?"

"No. Not all," she said.

"Like Justin?" I asked her, referring to the guy that she was dating before she married Brian.

"Justin is a little boy in a man's body," Clare said. "I don't know that there's any hope for him. Although, maybe he's done some

changing by now. I haven't talked to him since I met Brian."

"But some guys change, you think?" I persisted.

"Yes, I think so. Especially if they were basically a good guy to begin with."

I puzzled over that a minute. I wasn't sure that Seth had been a 'good guy' to begin with. I'd always known him to be in the 'jerk' type of class.

After a couple of moments, Clare asked, "Is it a particular guy that you're thinking about?"

I looked at her face and wished I could talk, really talk to her. And tell her what had happened. But the thing with Clare is, it's a little

complicated. I wouldn't tell her anything that could cause her to have to make a choice between keeping a confidence to me, or

going behind Brian's back about something.

"Well, yeah," I admitted.

Clare studied me for a long few moments. "Are you alright? I mean, I don't want to see you get into anything that you

shouldn't-"

"I won't," I told her.

"Alright," she said, apparently satisfied.

After that, we just talked about general things, funny stories from her work at the hospital, my friendship with Steven, things like that. By the time

it was getting close to supper, and after that the neighbors would be arriving to talk about all the chaos in our neighborhood.

I put on a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt when I went downstairs, and the house was already in a hubbub, with just sandwiches for

supper, and then a quick clean up for that, before people started to arrive.

I washed up the dishes, mostly by myself, because Guthrie kept horsing around with Crane, and Crane seemed to be in a really good mood.

I was doing some last minute wiping down of cabinets in the kitchen, when Brian came up behind me.

"Clare says you have a headache," he said.

"I did. It's gone," I told him.

"Too much junk food?" he asked, knowingly.

"Probably so."

"Talk to Guthrie yet?"

"Earlier I did. Why?" I asked.

"He says Kenny's coming with his parents tonight."

I was surprised by that, but I didn't say so. I just nodded, and folded the dishtowel. "That's good," I said.

"Maybe you'll get a chance to talk to him," Brian said. "Make you feel better about things."

"Maybe so," I said, not wanting to get into it again. Brian had his beliefs, and I had mine.

' "You alright?" he asked then, pausing to look at me more closely. "I mean, besides having a headache earlier, and Kenny coming. You

seem sort of 'off' about somethin'."

For a moment, and just for one, I wondered if Clare had told him about our conversation concerning the mystery guy. Then I felt low for even considering such a thing.

Brian was, in his own way, just as perceptive where I was concerned as any of my brothers.

"I'm okay," I said. "Having a headache always takes it out of me. I'll be better after I sleep tonight."

He nodded, and said no more.

And so, the evening began. It had been awhile since all the neighbors were over, like this. In between helping to serve coffee and

lemonade, and answering the typical questions from adults, (as in 'what grade will you be in this fall?' and 'are you keeping all these

brothers in line?'), I waited for Kenny and his parents to arrive.

It had been a long time since I'd seen Kenny's parents. Kenny had been one of those 'late in life' babies. His mom had been

somewhere in the realm of forty-two or so when he'd come along. His dad had been even older than that.

I was surprised by how much his parents had changed. Aged, really. His dad had lost a considerable amount of weight, and

looked gaunt, and ill.

Kenny's mom is a throwback to the Southern belle. Legitimately, actually. She came from Georgia when she married Kenny's father. She

still talks with an accent. She patted my cheek with affection when I opened the door to them.

"Harlie, dear," she said, sounding glad. "It's so good to see you. I was telling Kenneth just the other day that he needed

to bring you and Guthrie over for a meal soon."

"That sounds real nice," I said politely.

"I'll see to it," she said, and drifted on into the room, greeting people as a proper Southern belle would do.

Kenny, meanwhile, stood there, still on the porch just outside the front door. He looked uncomfortable, or so it seemed to me.

"Hi, Kenny," I said.

"Hey, Harlie."

"Come in," I told him, and he stepped inside.

"There's lots to eat," I said. "Pie and cake, and some other stuff."

"Guthrie around?" he asked then.

"He's around somewhere," I told him. "I think he said something about getting up a game of basketball with you and Ford."

Kenny looked so uncomfortable, as if at any moment he might bolt from the room, and run straight down the driveway.

"Come help me," I said, pulling him by the arm.

I led him thru the throng of people, to the kitchen, and motioned him to follow me down to the basement.

"Hannah needs another container for lemonade," I said, as an excuse. "Help me look for it."

"What's it look like?" he asked, still standing on the bottom step.

"It's silver, and oh, about this big," I said, holding my hands apart about two feet. For a few minutes, we sorted thru

stuff in the basement. I knew full well that the silver container was upstairs already, on the mud porch, where Hannah had put it

earlier when she discovered that it had a leak. It was the most believeable way that I thought I could get Kenny alone, and talking, without

rousing his suspicions.

Finally, after maybe about ten minutes or so, I said, "I don't see it down here."

"I don't either," he said.

"Oh, well," I said, and turned to look at him. "That's okay. It gives us a chance to talk for a minute."

Kenny looked panicked, and I sought for something to restore the casualness of the earlier few minutes.

"Your mom said she wants Guthrie and I to come over and eat sometime," I ventured.

"Yeah. Mom likes cookin' for people."

"Your mom's so nice," I said, and I meant it. I've always like Kenny's mother.

"Yeah," he said.

I hoisted myself up onto the dryer to sit. "How's your summer been?" I asked, trying another topic.

"Nothin' special," he said, and was silent.

"Ours has been pretty wild," I said. "Wondering what's going on, and all."

Kenny looked at me, but was quiet.

"Did you hear what happened to Adam and I?" I asked then.

He shook his head just the slightest bit.

"We were camping, and we started having gunshots fired right over our head."

To say that Kenny showed no response wouldn't be true. His gaze flickered over me, and then away. He went to lean against

one of the freezers. But it certainly wasn't the response that I would have expected.

"And then our fences were cut and ran over. And then Warrior got hurt," I went on. Waiting for him to show some sort

of emotion.

Kenny just regarded me steadily. He seemed to be more confident than he'd been a few minutes before.

"That's too bad. About your dog," he said.

I felt a sudden chill. Something was off.

"Yeah," I said.

And at that, Kenny came over to stand in front of the dryer, and laid a hand on each of my knees.

"My dad's sick," he said, really quietly. "Did you know that?"

"No-" I said. "I didn't know."

"Yeah. He's got cancer. Of the stomach."

"Oh. That's horrible. I'm sorry, Kenny," I said, and I meant it.

"He doesn't want a lot of people knowin' about it yet," he said. "So don't say anything, huh?"

"Okay."

Kenny leaned even closer, until we were practically nose to nose.

As close as we were, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. And that's when I knew. Kenny's courage was coming from

a bottle.

7