back and forth for a moment, the daytime thoughts more agreeable than the dark doubts of the night before. She felt almost giddy, although part of that could be weakness brought on by hunger. She knew she couldn’t eat nearly as much as she wanted, so she brushed the ants off the banana peel and wondered if it was edible.
Wrapping up half a package of peanut butter crackers instead, she decided to go on an expedition.
This is an adventure, Brownie
, she wrote in her diary.
I will not give up. Frankie taught me to be strong and brave. I will not let her down
.
Scouting nearby vehicles, Wreath found similar setups to the van, places that looked as though the owners had walked away with nothing. The Tiger Van already seemed more familiar and less foreboding than the other cars, trucks, and trailers, and her inspection revealed details of lives that reminded her of the home she had left behind.
To cheer herself, she pretended to be honest-to-goodness house shopping, like she loved on those home channels on TV and in magazines that Frankie brought home from the café. Within a few minutes, Wreath assumed the role of both buyer and real estate agent. She spoke aloud to calm her nerves, finding the lack of human noise unnerving.
“This van is small enough to be safe, has several exits in case of emergency, and is carpeted from top to bottom, floor to ceiling,” Wreath said, using her stick as a pointer. “The previous owners might have gone a little overboard with the furry, tiger-striped carpet, and I am not thrilled that the wall and ceiling will require vacuuming. Perhaps it comes with air freshener?”
Realtor Wreath was gregarious. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer one of our larger models, maybe the school bus that can accommodate a crowd, or one of these tiny sports cars that are cozy and easy to heat in the winter? You might find a camper trailer to your liking. They’re musty, but they have breathing room. You’ll have to commit soon because the property is flying off the market.”
Wreath laughed out loud, the game of charades a relief. “I’m quick to know what I want,” she spoke aloud again. “I’ll stick with my original choice. Have your people get in touch with my people, and perhaps we can discuss a Tiger Van reality show.”
She took a small bow and then felt ridiculous rather than playful, the woodpecker still knocking in the distance. She heard another bird call, and it sounded as though the woodpecker paused and answered.
Even the birds had more friends than she did.
She inhaled deeply, the air a mix of fresh summer and moldy ruin. A breeze moved through the trees, and she felt a moment of calm.
During her explorations in various trailers, Wreath pilfered a half-dozen tiny painted flowerpots, made in Mexico, a cracked mixing bowl, and a mildewed Bible that reminded her of her grandma. She took a tire iron to replace the tree branch as a weapon, removing it from an Opal GT, a car she’d never seen before.
She was disappointed but not surprised to find no lights and no running water in the area and began to consider her first trip into town.
Too soon
, she told herself.
Wait
.
As evening fell, the mosquitoes were big and aggressive, and she added insect spray to her shopping list. As she wrote, she knew that no matter how good she was with money, hers would not go very far. She would have to find a job.
She hoped Frankie’d had a nice funeral and wondered who had paid for it.
Chapter 5
A fter three sweltering, unnerving nights in the junkyard, Wreath thought there must be truth to Frankie’s motto.
Where there is a Willis, there’s a way
, she wrote time and again in her notebook. She considered putting it at the top of every page.
Without a strong will, she never could have survived. Her brain was shaken up, like the snow globe Frankie had brought her from a weekend trip to Hot Springs.
By night four, filthy and hungry, her meager food gone, she yearned for a break from what
Wrapping up half a package of peanut butter crackers instead, she decided to go on an expedition.
This is an adventure, Brownie
, she wrote in her diary.
I will not give up. Frankie taught me to be strong and brave. I will not let her down
.
Scouting nearby vehicles, Wreath found similar setups to the van, places that looked as though the owners had walked away with nothing. The Tiger Van already seemed more familiar and less foreboding than the other cars, trucks, and trailers, and her inspection revealed details of lives that reminded her of the home she had left behind.
To cheer herself, she pretended to be honest-to-goodness house shopping, like she loved on those home channels on TV and in magazines that Frankie brought home from the café. Within a few minutes, Wreath assumed the role of both buyer and real estate agent. She spoke aloud to calm her nerves, finding the lack of human noise unnerving.
“This van is small enough to be safe, has several exits in case of emergency, and is carpeted from top to bottom, floor to ceiling,” Wreath said, using her stick as a pointer. “The previous owners might have gone a little overboard with the furry, tiger-striped carpet, and I am not thrilled that the wall and ceiling will require vacuuming. Perhaps it comes with air freshener?”
Realtor Wreath was gregarious. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer one of our larger models, maybe the school bus that can accommodate a crowd, or one of these tiny sports cars that are cozy and easy to heat in the winter? You might find a camper trailer to your liking. They’re musty, but they have breathing room. You’ll have to commit soon because the property is flying off the market.”
Wreath laughed out loud, the game of charades a relief. “I’m quick to know what I want,” she spoke aloud again. “I’ll stick with my original choice. Have your people get in touch with my people, and perhaps we can discuss a Tiger Van reality show.”
She took a small bow and then felt ridiculous rather than playful, the woodpecker still knocking in the distance. She heard another bird call, and it sounded as though the woodpecker paused and answered.
Even the birds had more friends than she did.
She inhaled deeply, the air a mix of fresh summer and moldy ruin. A breeze moved through the trees, and she felt a moment of calm.
During her explorations in various trailers, Wreath pilfered a half-dozen tiny painted flowerpots, made in Mexico, a cracked mixing bowl, and a mildewed Bible that reminded her of her grandma. She took a tire iron to replace the tree branch as a weapon, removing it from an Opal GT, a car she’d never seen before.
She was disappointed but not surprised to find no lights and no running water in the area and began to consider her first trip into town.
Too soon
, she told herself.
Wait
.
As evening fell, the mosquitoes were big and aggressive, and she added insect spray to her shopping list. As she wrote, she knew that no matter how good she was with money, hers would not go very far. She would have to find a job.
She hoped Frankie’d had a nice funeral and wondered who had paid for it.
Chapter 5
A fter three sweltering, unnerving nights in the junkyard, Wreath thought there must be truth to Frankie’s motto.
Where there is a Willis, there’s a way
, she wrote time and again in her notebook. She considered putting it at the top of every page.
Without a strong will, she never could have survived. Her brain was shaken up, like the snow globe Frankie had brought her from a weekend trip to Hot Springs.
By night four, filthy and hungry, her meager food gone, she yearned for a break from what
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