Eruption (Yellowblown™ Book 1) (18 page)

I called the landline a
t home.

Mom sounded flustered after we exchanged greetings. “
I’m glad you called. We’ve been talking about the email we got from the school but haven’t figured out what to do.” I could tell she was walking through the house. “Matt,” she said to my dad, who seemed to be home all the time now. “It’s Violet. Oh, sweetie, you’ve probably wondered when we’re coming to get you.”

A
click and a fumbling sound came through the receiver. “Hiya, pumpkin,” Dad said. “So, you finally managed to get kicked out of school?”

“Funny,” I said.

Mom remained all business. “Do you think you can get the bus to Indiana?”

Dad spoke before I could take a breath.
“Your mom and I are a little worried about her making the drive. She has two root canals on Tuesday so she might be on some pretty good drugs. Plus, east is the worst direction to try to drive. I, of course, have my only appointment all month in the middle of next week, though if you can leave early—and why couldn’t you?—we can come on Sunday.”

“
Wait. I called to tell you I’ve got it figured out,” I interjected. “A friend offered to give me a ride.”

Static buzzed in my ear. Mom finally piped up. “It’s over
four hundred miles.”

“Well, he has to go to Nebraska so it’s sort of on his way.”

Mom said “Nebraska!” while Dad said, “He?”

“Hey, is this the bike ride guy?” Dad continued
.

“What bike ride guy?” Mom asked sharply.

“I told you about that, Candy. Some guy took her to a rail-trail last week.”

“Oh
.” The meekness in her reply suggested he’d told her and she’d forgotten. The idea of her forgetting news about a boy, and the fact she hadn’t texted for more details the second Dad mentioned it, worried me. No interrogation. Plus, she hadn’t made arrangements to come fetch me at my lame closing school. These lapses showed a disconcerting level of distraction. I should be thrilled but my brow wrinkled with concern. This was not the Candy Perch I knew.

“I
’m not sure I’m comfortable with this, Violet,” Dad said gruffly. “Can’t you take the bus?”

“No,” I insisted.
“I have to clear out all my stuff, like it’s the end of the year. There’s no way I can get my bike on the bus much less all my other crap.”

“Are you sure he’s safe?” Mom asked. “Things are crazy out on the highways right now.”

“He’s the RA you met on the first day last year. He’s super-responsible, and a good driver, and he has a reliable SUV. He grew up on a ranch in Nebraska so he…I don’t know…he knows how to handle himself.”

“Wow,” Mom said. “All that, and good lookin’ too, if I’m remembering the right guy.”

I smiled a little. Mom was finally getting in gear. “You are.”

Dad cleared his throat. “Our house isn’t exactly on the way to Nebraska. Can we trust this boy?”

I pulled the phone away from my ear to stare at the screen for a second before putting it back to talk. “Dad, he’s fine.” I hadn’t called for permission. I’d called to tell them my plans.

Mom chimed in. “Matt, she’s always been a good judge of people
, and if he’s an RA, he’s been checked out by the school.”

“An
d it’s better than Mom being on the road alone. On narcotics,” I added.

Dad paused for a moment. “I suppose you’re right.”

“When will you get here?” Mom asked. “He should spend at least one night before he leaves for Nebraska, right?”

“That’s what I thought. We
’re taking Mia to the bus station on Thursday morning so we’ll probably get home by dinnertime, okay?”

“Sounds good. I’ll get the guest room ready.”

“Don’t fuss, Mom. He was worried about imposing on us so, you know, be cool.”

She and Dad both laughed. “We’re parents,” Dad said, still chuckling. “We don’t do cool.”

“Hey, Violet,” Mom added. “I’m gonna text you a list of things we need. Maybe you can check around your local stores. Stuff’s pretty picked over here.”

My forehead crinkled
. I pictured empty shelves in the Gardenburg discount mart. “Like what?”

“Well, Daddy and Grandpa think we should have some more cartridges for the hunting rifles. Things like that.”

“You want me to buy
ammunition
?”
 

 

Text to Boone:

I expected this to be greeted with alarm, or at least confusion.

(The triple question marks were supposed to indicate I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.)

I stared at the glowing screen of my phone. Who was I texting? Rambo?