He's in the doorway of some abandoned Mexican restaurant. The broken neon sign of a cactus on it winks at us, and the door is set a few feet into the arched wall. He comes out of the doorway when he sees the van. Silas doesn't hurry, even though the rain's speeding up. By the time he's in the van, we can't see the restaurant he'd taken shelter in.
He looks tired. He's soaking wet, and breathing hard from all the running. Mitch sighs and starts the van.
The twins fall asleep. The wind makes the rain fall at an angle. It's pitch black. All we can see on the highway are the blurry, neon lights of other cars and fast food signs.
"Slow down," Silas says, recovering a bit of his normal spite into his tone.
"It's only a little rain," Mitch says, slowing down.
"It sets my teeth on edge," Silas snaps. Mitch slows down even more and glances at Silas.
"You okay?"
"Shut up." Everyone shuts up as we find a place to sleep, even Aya. We sleep under the bridge with some of the blankets we found in the truck bed. I listen to the rain falling and stare at the underside of the bridge as I try to fall asleep. I feel Charlie shivering next to me and I toss my blanket over him. He stops shivering, and within a few seconds I hear his breathing become lighter. I envy Charlie. When I went on the run, I lost a lot of my values. I had to learn to become tough, to put my life first before my concience. Somehow, all this has just strengthened his. He stays so rooted in his ways, even while he's floating across the country.
My eyelids feel like they're weighed down by hundred pound weights. I let them close.
I wake up shivering. Silas is swearing. I sit up, and find that the water level has rised since we went to sleep. The water is almost as high as the bottom of the truck, which was between us and the river. Silas's shoes are waterlogged from the water, and as I sit up, I realize the back of my shirt and my hair is wet. I look back to see Mitch, standing and alert. She relaxes a little when she sees why Silas is swearing. One of the twins sneeze.
"Bless you," says a stuffy Aya. Mitch gives a yawn worthy of a lion.
"Let's get out of here before the water gets any higher," she says. We wade to the truck and pile in. No one rides in the back this time, we all squoosh into the truck. Mitch doesn't give any signs of the coldness, she doesn't even shiver, but I see the goose bumps on her arms. We need to get into some dry clothes.
"How much money do we have left?" Mitch asks Silas. He pulls the wallet we stole out of his back pocket.
"Thirty-three bucks," he says. Mitch's forehead creases as she does some quick math in her head. She shakes her head.
"If we're going to have enough for lunch, we're gonna have to get flip-flops," she says, "At least until our Sneakers dry." We go shopping and get a pizza for lunch. It feels nice to be in dry clothes again. I don't know how Mitch did it, but we still had nine bucks once we were done shopping for all the stuff we needed. It must be a girl thing.
Pizzas seemed so much bigger when I was on my own, but when you're with a six hungry kids, food has a way of vanishing. I only get a slice and a third.
"Yum," Aya says, "I love ah-ah-choo!" I see Mitch's eyebrows pull together for a moment, but, as if they're made of elastic, they snap back into place when Aya looks at her. Mitch hands Aya a napkin with a smile.
"It's just a little cold," Mitch says, "It'll go away." Aya blows her nose.
"Thanks, Mitch," she says.
"No pro-"
"Achoo, achoo, achoo," Alina gives three quick sneezes, one right after the other. Mitch hands her a napkin too.
"Let's bounce," Silas says, his eyes darting to a mall cop in the corner who is eyeing us, "We don't want to get questioned by Tall-And-Hairy's brother over there, Short-And-Bald."
"Agreed," Mitch says, and we start driving again. As we drive out of the town, we see a sign that says:
You are now leaving Billings, Montana
46 mi. to Hardin, Montana
46 mi. to Hardin, Montana
"Girls! We're going to Hardin," Mitch says.
"Yay!" says Alina, jumping up and down between Mitch and Silas. Aya squeals and wriggles like jello in a Charlie-and-me sandwich.
"What's in Hardin?" Charlie asks. The question doesn't faze Aya, but Alina starts, as if she's seen a ghost. Her smile melts quicker than ice cream in July.
"Nothing, anymore," she says. Aya seems to deflates as her sister says that.
"Nice job, Bilbo," Silas says, glaring back at me.
"My name's not Bilbo," I say, half-heartedly, "It's Bill."
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