The Tracks, Sally Royer-Derr [most read book in the world txt] 📗

somehow and didn’t like him. Tommy was just talking about how people didn’t see him the way I did. I guessed he was right. Sam certainly was proving this point. But he didn’t have to act like I was crazy to do it.

I focused on Sam, giving him my sternest look. “I was talking to Tommy. He was leaning on the fence, right there.” I pointed to the spot Tommy had stood. “You must have seen him.”

“I could see the fence, you, and the trees and grasses beside it,” Sam said slowly. “That’s it. Nobody else was here. Is Tommy someone in your imagination? Like Annie Tootles?”

I knew he was going to say that. Trying to make me doubt my sanity. I wasn’t losing my mind. “No. Tommy is a real person. As real as you or me. Stop acting like this, Sam! You know you saw him talking to me. If you don’t like him, that’s fine. Just don’t pull this shit and try to make me think I’m imagining things.”

Sam shook his head. “If you really think you were talking to a real person, I’m worried about you, Emily. Really worried.”

I stared at him. I didn’t know what kind of stupid game he was playing. I didn’t have time for it, though. Ignoring him, I turned around and stomped toward home.

***

I lay on my still sweaty bed wondering if Mom would ever get the air-conditioner fixed. Only three days had passed since it broke, but I believed I may have lost half my body weight in the sweat that rolled off me every time I was in this tin can we called home.

At my old house, a trailer park sat at the edge of town. It was separated from the other houses by a wide vacant lot where weeds grew wild. People seemed to think it was their personal trash dump. Candy wrappers, white Styrofoam cups, and broken bottles littered the ground. Far enough away from the ‘nice’ houses that nobody got fired up enough to do anything about it.

I visited that trailer park once. I was eight. A soft-spoken new girl with silky blonde hair was in my class that year. We’d shared a love of sticker collecting. She had the best collection of googly-eyed stickers, my favorite, I’d ever seen. She’d invited me over one Saturday afternoon to play. I’d accepted.

When Mom had pulled up to the plain white trailer with baby-blue trim, she’d glanced at the piece of paper she’d scribbled the address on.

“This is the place,” she’d said to herself, rather than me.

We got out of our sedan. The same car she still drove, although in better shape back then. A child’s tricycle, rusted from the weather, sat in the unkempt front yard. A bird bath, filled with brown water, stood solemnly on the other side of the yard. Mom had given me a warm smile as she’d pressed the black doorbell. Shuffling could be heard inside the trailer, even smaller than the one I now occupied.

The screen door had creaked open to reveal a heavyset woman in a stained white T-shirt. She was friendly enough, inviting us inside her home and making conversation to Mom. The girl, I forget her name, had wanted to show me her room. We’d walked through the tiny kitchen, through the short, dark hall to her bedroom. Inside, we sat on her sunshine-yellow bedspread. The room was about a quarter of the size of mine at home. The girl got out two huge boxes of stickers, excited to share them with me. I just remember sitting there in that tight room, so tight I felt claustrophobic and feeling sorry for this girl. Sorry that she had to live in such a depressing place. Look at me now. I was that girl.

I grabbed my sketchbook from the nightstand and stroked furiously. Sam’s words hung heavily in my heat fogged mind. ‘…Nobody else was there.’ None of this made sense. I knew Tommy was there. Knew he was as real as me, or Sam. I’d spent the last couple of months with him. Almost every single day.

My pencil strokes became more erratic and angry. If Tommy wasn’t real, it only meant one thing. I was losing my mind.

Chapter Thirteen

A swirl of dust followed me while I barreled down the beaten dirt path. A shortcut to town. Through the woods, past knotted trees with leafy canopies. Cigarette butts covered the side of the path along with other assorted trash. The golden rule of no littering obviously wasn’t followed on this side of the woods.

I pedaled fast, enjoying the somewhat cool breeze it afforded me. My ponytail slapped the back of my neck as I moved along. I was in a hurry to get to the library. While we had a decent laptop at home, we didn’t have internet. An unnecessary expense, in Mom’s opinion. She used the internet at work when she needed to, and we had it at school, of course. That didn’t do me a bit of good, being on summer vacation and all.

I was still furious with Sam for what had happened earlier today. Furious and confused. I knew Tommy was real. Why would Sam say those things? For all my complaining about him, he was actually a good brother. He wouldn’t make something like that up to hurt me. He had to have seen me talking to Tommy. And why had Tommy run away? Made no sense. I thought about how he’d acted when Sam had showed up. Kind of strange, like he knew something. A secret of sorts.

Sweet-smelling honeysuckle filled my senses. I pedaled on. I had to get to the library. I needed to find out every detail on Tommy Tucker. I knew he wasn’t like Annie Tootles. Not a figment of my imagination. I knew the warmth of his body, the touch of his