Page 95 of A Fabulously Unfabulous Summer for Henry Milch

“Bekah’s the only high school student I’ve met up here. It was a lucky guess.”

He still looked at me suspiciously.

“The Hyslips are trying to say the evidence was planted. Apparently, they leave their doors open. But then, everyone up here does,” he said.

“Yeah, people need to stop doing that.”

What exactly is a good person?And, more importantly, is it worth being one? Sue Langtree thought she was a good person. Donny Hyslip was definitely a bad person. But Sue was guilty and Donny was innocent—at least of the crime he was in jail for. I guess it was justice of a sort.

Honestly, I needed to get out of Wyandot County. It was time for me to go home, my real home. That was the only answer. I decided it didn’t matter if I bought a car. In fact, I should just collect my money from my grandmother, get a plane ticket, and leave. I could get asemidecent used car when I got to Los Angeles.

When I got home—I mean, when I got to my grandmother’s—it wasn’tmyhome I reminded myself—I found her sitting in the kitchen waiting for me.

“Where have you been?”

“I went to see Detective Lehmann. They’ve arrested Donny Hyslip for Reverend Hessel’s murder.”

“Donny Hyslip? He’s just a boy.”

“Teenager.”

“Oh. Drugs, wasn’t it?”

“Um, sure… I guess.”

“And now you want your money.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’ve been talking to your mother about your hospital bill,” she began. “Her friend found out that if you’re poor and without insurance in California you don’t have to pay more than Medicaid rates. He spoke to the hospital and got your bill reduced to fourteen hundred dollars.”

Then she held out a check. I grabbed it. Even though the handwriting was that of an emotionally disturbed child, I could still clearly read that it was for five hundred forty-one dollars and thirty-eight cents. My mother had managed to not pay a dime and my grandmother—

“I paid the bill for you.”

“This isn’t what we agreed to. You were going to givemetwo thousand dollars. Not some hospital.”

“No, but I think it’s close enough.” She watched me carefully for a moment. “Doesn’t it feel good to be out of debt?”

“But I’m not out of debt. I still have a student loan in default and credit cards that are maxed, not to mention another hospital bill from when I got run off the road. That hasn’t even arrived yet.”

“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky and someone else will die,” she said with a bitter smile.

“You’re better. You can take care of yourself. It’s time for me to go back to California.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I do. I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

“I know you’re still taking those pills. I can get you help. If you want it.”

Jesus Christ. That’s twice in what, a week or so? Twice that someone’s offered to get me help. But I wasn’t—or was I? Had I accidentally gotten addicted? Was I not just having fun anymore? And how was I supposed to figure it out?

Well, obviously, I should just stop. I didn’tneedto take pills. It wouldn’t be that hard. All I had to do was not take them anymore. Simple.

Then she said the oddest thing. “I’m going to leave you the farm. Your mother doesn’t want it. I think, well I think you’re smarter than you know. You could do very well for yourself.”

As a farmer? She couldn’t possibly—