Page 102 of Bobby Green

“I went and bought chains last week, just in case we need ’em,” Bobby said. He’d been planning to wait until after the snows, just to spare the expense, but the weather people kept predicting a long wet winter—he wanted to see his mom before April.

“This road is amazing—this is I-80? I mean, it’s right out our back door, right? And it leads here? That last curve, we could look down and see all of Auburn and Sacramento to boot. You lived here? That’s super cool!”

The roads were more than clear. Bobby reached across the bench seat and grabbed Reg’s hand. “It felt like a cage,” he said quietly. “But then, you know, turned eighteen, graduated, found the key. Like you.”

Reg fell quiet for a moment. “This is more like a visitor’s pass,” he said sadly. “I don’t think thereisa key.”

Bobby grunted and refrained from saying that there had to be a key or his sister was going to shred Reg’s sleek little body by dragging him through the bars.

“Dogpatch is in a little valley between mountains,” Bobby said. “There’s a branch of the river going through the middle, and lots of pastureland. It’s still pretty high up, but it’s not, like, on a mountaintop, you know?”

It was Reg’s turn to grunt. He followed it up with “I guess I can see how that would feel like prison. But seriously—can you see stars at night?”

Bobby let out a small smile. “Yup.”

“So, see? Already better’n Sacramento.”

“We should take a trip to the sea,” Bobby said, letting excitement build up in his stomach for it. “I mean, I’ve been a few times with my mom.” His eyebrows drew together at the memory. “And once with my dad. I really loved it there.”

Reg was still looking through the side window, trying to gaze upward to see the tops of the trees. “Let me get through this first, Bobby,” he said, obviously tempted to roll down the window and stick his head out. “I still gotta meet your mom. I can’t believe you really think that’s such a good idea.”

“Here, Reg. I’ll pull over in town, and you can look up at all the trees while we fill up. And did you bring all the books we’ve read?”

“Oh yeah. First things I packed.”

Bobby smiled, glad he’d brought gifts. “She’ll love you. She’ll even have books to give back.”

THE ONEthing Bobby had noticed since he’d moved away was how much younger his mother looked when she smiled at him on his return.

This time, though, sheliterallylooked younger. “Mom!” he laughed, as he swung out of the truck. “You dyed your hair!”

She grimaced. “Yeah, yeah. Well, you send me money, and suddenly I don’t have to worry about feeding you, and I’ve got time to do foolish things.”

“Not foolish,” he said, liking the subtle blonde/brown she’d chosen. “Looks good. You look way younger.”

She frowned up at him and played with his hair. He’d left it long but taken Kane’s advice and gotten a trim. It fell around his ears in layers now, and when he slicked it back for a scene, it looked tousled on purpose by the time they called “cut.”

“You look older,” she said, biting her lip. “And slicker. Not that it’s bad, mind you, but even your boots are new.”

Bobby shrugged. “Well, you know. People tip better when you look good.”

She appeared to be appeased by that, but Bobby felt a hollow spot under his breastbone. How often was he supposed to lie to her about this?

“Well, your friend must get great tips,” his mom said, laughing as Reg grabbed all the luggage from the back. “Hold up there, son—let Vern help you.”

Reg stumbled on a duffel strap, obviously confused. “Vern—sorry. I gotta remember you call him that. We call him Bobby, ’cause, you know, Roberts.” Bobby had made him practice that, and it came out real good. He grinned from behind his mom’s back and gave Reg the thumbs-up.

Bobby’s mom harrumphed. “That’s a likely story. He’s hated the name Vern since he was a baby.”

Bobby nodded emphatically as he went to help Reg with the duffels. “I’m saying.”

“Reggie,” Reg said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not even Reginald. I think my mom got Reggie and Veronica from some sort of comic as a kid.” He paused. “Don’t know where she got Queenie.”

“Archie, though, for you and Veronica!” His mom clapped her hands, delighted. “That’s wonderful.”

Bobby looked at Reg and winked. “That’s easy for her to say. Her name’s Isabelle.”

Reg smiled, full force. “Pretty name for a pretty lady,” he said as she turned to lead them into the house. Bobby bumped shoulders with him, because God, they were making it work, and that alone made him happy.