Suzy uncurled herself from her hiding place, in the footwell behind the passenger seat. It was sunrise. She smelled gasoline, heard her father chatting with the attendant about the space race. She sat up and stretched. Suzy hoped they’d gone far enough that he wouldn’t turn back. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry.
Walt broke off his conversation. “Suzy?!?”
“Don’t be mad.” She hugged her pillow to her chest as he took in her suitcase and Barbie carrier.
“God damn it!”
Suzy quaked. “I want, I want to live in Florida.”
“That’s not up to you.” Walt stared at her. “I’ll have to call your mother.”
Suzy spilled out of the car. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Her father shook his head, huffed a sigh, then took her by the hand.
“Where are we?”
“Just south of Indianapolis.” He stopped at the door to ladies’ room, opened it for her, then turned back to the pay phone.
Suzy had never been in a public bathroom without her mom.The light flickered. It smelled bad, like the fish tank at school when the water needed to be changed. Suzy hovered over the toilet, so her skin wouldn’t touch it, then washed her hands extra long like her mom had taught her.
When Suzy stepped outside, Walt shooed her to the car. There, she watched, waited, mak-
ing sad/happy faces in the rear view mirror. It wasn’t a short call.
He came back to the car. “You can stay til school starts again in the fall.”
Suzy caught her breath. “Oh, Daddy!”
“I work a lot.” He turned the key, starting the car’s engine, returning them to the road.
“I’ll ask the neighbor if you can spend days with them. She has a daughter your age.”
“Okay,” she gulped. Would she miss her mom too much? The way she’d gently shake
Suzy and say, ‘up an at ‘em Cutie Snooze.’ For sure she’d miss her little brother Dave, who
squealed when she tickled him. And she’d have liked to pack her blue Schwinn bike.
Suzy unzipped her suitcase, and found her two books. “Can I sit in front?”
He patted the seat in affirmation. Suzy slid her body, and the books, over the seat and settled herself. Between them was an open shoe box, which Suzy eyed: a tennis trophy, a framed
photo of her parents’ wedding, an M mug.
“No pictures of me and Dave?”
“I have those at home.” He noticed her haul. “You brought library books?”
“I thought you might take me back.”
“We’ve crossed state lines,” he teased. “I hope we don’t get stopped.”
Suzy wondered: would they return her along with the books? Would she lose her library
card? “Are you mad at me?”
Walt kept his eyes on the road. “I’m proud of you, Suze.”
Another gulp. “Really?”!
“You took a chance.”