Greetings from Nowhere Read Online Free PDF Page B

to go back down to the interstate if we don’t find something soon,” Loretta’s father said.
    â€œWe’ll find something,” Loretta’s mother said. “Keep your peepers peeped, Lulu.”
    So Loretta rolled down the window and leaned out, letting the cool mountain air blow her bangs off her forehead, and kept her peepers peeped.

Kirby

    Kirby’s mother rang the bell on the counter again.
    â€œWell, this is just great,” she said. “Nobody’s here.”
    The postcard rack squeaked as Kirby spun it around and around.
    â€œStop it, Kirby,” his mother hollered. “I’ve got a splittin’ headache. My feet are killin’ me. And I need a cigarette.”
    She slammed her hand down on the bell again.
    Three times.
    Ding. Ding. Ding.
    â€œI’m going to go look for somebody,” she said, shoving the screen door open.
    Kirby strolled around the office, running his hand along the walls, shuffling through the maps on the counter, turning
the pages of the guest book. He studied the postcards in the rack by the door. Pictures of mountains. Indians. Bears. He picked one that said Greetings from the Great Smoky Mountains , folded it in half, and stuffed it into his pocket.
    He went behind the counter and studied the calendar with the red X’s through the days. He jiggled the keys hanging on cup hooks on the wall.
    He peered into the room behind the curtain. It was jammed with furniture. A bed. A tattered lounge chair. Tables. Bureaus. In one corner of the room was a little kitchen. The sink was filled with dishes. The countertop was cluttered with milk cartons, paper towels, and cans of cat food. On the floor under a tiny round table was a bowl with Kitty on the side. Flowerpots filled with drooping, pink-flowered plants lined the windowsills.
    Kirby went to the front of the office and hopped over his duffel bag. Then back again. Then over again. Then back again.
    Hop.
    Hop.
    Hop.
    Hop.
    Meow.
    Kirby stopped hopping.
    A scruffy black cat with one eye sat outside the screen door.

    Kirby pushed the door open. The cat strolled inside and rubbed against Kirby’s legs, purring.
    Kirby sat on his duffel bag and held his hand out. The cat sniffed it, his nose twitching and his scraggly tail swishing back and forth on the floor.
    Then the cat jumped right into Kirby’s lap.
    â€œWhat happened to your ear, fella?” Kirby said, running his finger along the cat’s torn ear. “And your eye?”
    The cat rubbed his face against Kirby’s shoulder and purred again.
    â€œI bet you been in a fight,” Kirby said.
    The cat blinked.
    â€œA lot of fights,” Kirby said.
    He scratched the cat’s neck.
    â€œI guess nobody likes you,” he said.
    The cat looked up at Kirby and let out a tiny little meow.
    â€œYeah,” Kirby said, “I know how you feel.”

Aggie

    â€œHello?”
    A voice drifted into Aggie’s dream.
    â€œHello?”
    There it was again.
    Aggie opened her eyes and sat up. Her neck ached. She blinked, adjusting her eyes to the afternoon sun.
    â€œHello?” came the voice again. And then a woman appeared, walking from the direction of the office. A wild-haired woman in short shorts and flapping sandals.
    Aggie stood up, forgetting about the bucket in her lap. It hit the concrete with a clatter and rolled, sending sponges and brushes and spray bottles scattering into the gravel parking lot.

    â€œIs this place open?” the woman said.
    Aggie straightened her glasses and smoothed her hair. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. “It is.”
    â€œI need a room,” the woman said. Her red hair framed her face in frizzy curls. She smelled like cigarettes.
    For one tiny little moment, Aggie thought about saying, “No smoking, okay?”
    That’s what Harold would have said.
    But she didn’t.
    She gathered up the cleaning supplies and said, “Let’s go over to the