Holly was driving the minivan, everyone else asleep as she crossed the Mississippi River and into Arkansas. They could’ve gone east or north or so many directions, but the signs seemed to be leading her the fastest way out of Memphis and onto some new land, some new territory like in those old Western movies she watched with her granddaddy. TJ rode shotgun with her, leaning against the passenger door, using her blue jean jacket as a pillow, as Holly flipped around the radio dial. There were bellowing black preachers, Mexican music, top country hits, and hot rap out of Memphis. She didn’t catch anything that sounded like the news except for some man screaming about how the End Times were right around the corner. Right around the corner? Men like that have been peddling that story for two thousand years. She finally shut the damn thing off as she drove through West Memphis, all the gas stations and truck stops jam-packed early that morning.

They’d filled up when they left Ladarius’s cousin’s apartment, bought chicken biscuits, some Cokes, Red Bulls, and a chocolate milk for John Wesley. The boy had crawled into the far backseats and made himself a nest with all the boxes of assorted shit TJ had tossed into the van. Somewhere along the way, they’d run over their cell phones and tossed the busted parts in a dumpster. They all hated to do it but knew they’d probably been tracked since leaving Tibbehah County.

Holly worried what her parents were going to say and do once she got home. She hadn’t hesitated leaving with TJ for a hot second and now would be the one to get sent up to that Wings of Faith in Missouri. First thing they’d do is sit her ass down with one of Pastor Ben Quick’s folks to talk about a biblical solution to their girl’s wild ways. But doing this, riding out with Ladarius and TJ, didn’t feel wild at all. It felt like the only thing she could do. If she couldn’t stand tall with her best friend in the whole damn world, what use was she?

The warm air blowing from the heaters scattered TJ’s blonde hair across her face. She’d always been the pretty one. Her face reminded Holly of a china doll, so fine and pale, a perfect upturned nose and those intense-as-hell blue eyes. Her lips slightly parted, the raspy sound of her breath.