Zip (13 page)

“Do
I
work here?” The strange woman laughed, as if Lyssa had just asked her if the sky was blue or if snow was cold. She took a huge bite of peach and wiped the juice off her chin with her forearm. “I’m Sir See of Sir See’s Pigs and Peaches
Surely
you’ve heard of me?”

Lyssa had never heard a word about Sir See or her pigs and peaches, but she smiled politely and nodded anyway. Since there were
peaches
—plural—she might even get a whole one to herself.

“Oh,
you’re
the famous Sir See? Wow. It’s such an honor to meet you.”

The woman narrowed her little bug eyes, leaving Lyssa with the feeling that the woman didn’t believe a single word she said.

“We’re known across the country,” she declared. She stopped in front of a red pickup that was large as a whale and so rusted that Lyssa wondered if it still ran. Painted across the side of the truck were the words
Circe’s Pigs and Peaches
.

“People come from all over the Northwest to buy my peaches and pork,” Circe continued

The truck’s flatbed was filled with snorting pigs and fragrant crates of peaches. Lyssa’s eyes trailed over them, and she tried to keep her mouth from watering. There were even a few peach crates stacked up in front of the flatbed, like stairs

Circe looked down at Mabel and pointed at the flatbed. Wiggling her curly tail, Mabel trotted up the peach crates and into the trunk with the others. Lyssa wanted to climb into that truck and roll around in those peaches, just like the pigs were doing

“What’re you doing out here on your own, anyway?” Circe asked. She patted one of the pigs on the head, then tossed it a ripe, pink peach. “Aren’t your parents here with you?”

“Oh—no.” Lyssa chewed on her lower lip, thinking fast. Something about Circe was…odd. She had a shifty, strange quality, like someone trying to keep a secret. Lyssa had to be careful. She couldn’t risk another grown-up turning her in.

But Circe
did
have a truck. And food. Maybe her next farmers’ market was down south?

“See, this awful thing happened,” Lyssa started. “I was on a school trip and I missed the bus. I need to get back down to…er…Idaho, but I don’t have any money or a phone…”

Circe raised one eyebrow and her hair shifted slightly, like it wasn’t quite attached to her head

“School trip, huh? How come you missed the bus?”

“It’s a funny story, actually,” Lyssa said. She tightened her grip around the scooter’s handlebars, and the rubber squeaked a little. She could almost feel Zip warning her to keep her story simple. “My mom owns an organic potato farm back in Illinois…”

“I thought you said Idaho?”

“Right, I did say Idaho. See, my mom’s farm is in
Illinois, but we just moved to Idaho and she’s been researching long-distance gardening methods. I came over here to find out if anyone knew anything about that and before I knew it, the bus had taken off.”

Lyssa made her hand swoop through the air, as though to show just how quickly the bus had driven away without her. For a moment there was complete silence. Circe pushed her glasses farther up her nose and shook her head

“I don’t believe a word of that story,” she announced

For a second Lyssa didn’t know what to say
Everyone
believed her. Lyssa had once convinced the stage manager at the Texas Talent Show that
ghosts
were eating sandwiches backstage so that she wouldn’t get in trouble for smearing jelly on all the scenery. Lyssa hadn’t actually thought that story was so far-fetched. Things were always creaking, and there were always shadows flitting across the walls, even when no one was moving. For a while she’d been convinced there were ghosts backstage, until she’d realized it was only mice.

Circe turned back to the pickup and folded up the latch, closing her pigs and peaches up into the trunk. Lyssa took a quick step backward. She didn’t know whether to hold still or start running. Was Circe going to call the police? Lyssa felt like there was ice water running beneath her skin

But Circe just turned around, narrowing her eyes as she
scanned the now-abandoned farmers’ market. Once she was satisfied it was all clear, she glanced down at Lyssa

“Hold on to my hair for a moment, will you?”

Before Lyssa could respond, Circe yanked the wispy gray hair right off her head and dropped it into Lyssa’s hands. Beneath the wig were bright red curls that had been flattened over her ears

Lyssa could only stare. Circe winked, then leaned over to start gathering up the rest of her peach crates. As she hoisted up the hem of her muumuu, something silver and metallic sparkled where her legs should’ve been. Stilts

Picking up a peach crate, Circe looked up at Lyssa, her bright eyes twinkling beneath her too-big glasses

“You can keep a secret, can’t you?” she asked

L
yssa’s mouth dropped so far open she could’ve caught bugs inside it. Luckily, Circe took this to mean that Lyssa could, in fact, be trusted with her secret. She kicked off her stilts and, as she stood in the grass, Lyssa was surprised to see that the strange girl was actually a few inches shorter than she was.

Circe pulled her unruly red hair back into two pigtails. A few stray curls popped out from the sides of her head, reminding Lyssa of a sweater with loose threads. Though Circe was shorter than Lyssa, there was something about the way Circe held her shoulders back and her chin up that made her seem very tall

“So…you aren’t really a grown-up?” Lyssa said dumbly. Circe hitched up the hem of her tie-dyed dress, revealing two mismatched flip-flops: one green and one orange. She tossed her stilts into the back of the truck and one of the pigs squealed

“Nope. I’m eleven and three-quarters,” Circe said. She finished packing up the rest of her peach crates and set those inside the truck, too. “I pretend I’m an old lady so I can run my farm in peace. You wouldn’t believe how quickly people stick their noses into your business when you’re a kid.”

“I’d believe it,” Lyssa said, thinking of how much trouble she was having just trying to get to Austin

Circe plucked a leaf of grass out of the ground and wedged it in the corner of her mouth. She leaned against the side of her truck and looked Lyssa over

“My farm is across the border, in Idaho,” Circe explained, rolling the piece of grass over her tongue. “Where are you
really
headed? I might be able to give you a ride part of the way.”

“I’m going to Texas,” Lyssa said. Circe had trusted Lyssa with her secret, so Lyssa figured she could trust Circe too. Quickly, she explained about her mom and the Talent Show and how she needed to get to Texas in just
three
days.

“That’s not a lot of time,” Circe agreed. She pursed her
lips. “Well, I can’t take you all the way to Texas, but Idaho is on the way. Maybe you can get a bus from there?”

Lyssa couldn’t help thinking of the measly $13 she had left in her backpack. How was she going to find enough money for a bus ticket? Still, a ride to Idaho was better than nothing. Maybe she could hitch a ride with someone else once she got there

“It’s a deal,” she said. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” Circe said. She spit out the piece of grass and hoisted herself into the truck with just one arm

The truck was old, and it clattered down the road so badly that Lyssa had to hold on to her seat with both hands to keep from bouncing around the cab like a Mexican jumping bean. Lyssa was terrified driving with a kid her own age, but she tried to be on her best behavior. She kept her hands curled around her seat and tried to ignore the braids hanging on either side of her face, taunting her. She would not chew on her hair. She would
not
.

“Do you even have a driver’s license?” she asked Circe

“Oh, yeah,” Circe answered, shrugging. “Had one for years. Besides, it’s just like steering a tractor. I’ve been doing that since I was eight.”

Lyssa swallowed. She hadn’t seen many tractors in the city, but her mom had taken her pumpkin picking out in
the middle of Texas one year, and there had been tractors there. Lyssa remembered how slow they moved—like old metal animals looking for a place to take a nap. Circe’s truck might be old, but it was
not
slow, and it whipped around the curves in the tiny road so quick that Lyssa had to focus on the dashboard to keep from feeling woozy. Lyssa grabbed for her seat belt, but when she tried to buckle it in, she realized that the buckle was broken clean off. She tied the two ends of the seat belt together in a thick knot.

Trying to take her mind off the terrifying ride, Lyssa pulled out her journal

Dear Penn,
she wrote. She paused, chewing on the end of the pencil. Penn wouldn’t like her riding around in a car driven by an eleven-year-old. Penn might be fearless when it came to circusy stuff—like walking across a tightrope or hanging off a trapeze—but she was super-careful about putting herself in other kinds of danger. If Penn knew Lyssa was strapped into an old broken-down truck going eighty miles an hour, she’d be furious.

I found a friend
—Lyssa hesitated as she wrote the word
friend
. Could she start calling Circe her friend yet?—
And I’m back on track to Texas. You wouldn’t believe how beautiful it is out here, Penn. Remember when we’d climb all the way to the top of the big hill in Mr. Tanaka’s backyard and look out over the whole neighborhood? It’s
like that out here but a zillion times bigger. I’ll make sure to take tons of mental pictures for you. Lyssa.

Lyssa sighed, sticking her journal back into her backpack. She’d need to find someplace to mail all these letters. Otherwise, she’d get to Texas before they did

Circe and Lyssa drove down a narrow road that wound its way between steep red cliffs. The river and trees below them looked small and far away. Lyssa felt like the whole road had been lifted on giant stilts. The pigs in back squealed every time they hit a bump.

“I always take the back roads,” Circe explained. “It’s less likely the cops will pull me over that way. And I don’t have to worry about traffic.”

Circe turned the volume knob on the truck radio and Italian opera screeched out of its staticky speakers. Lyssa perked up. She wasn’t a huge fan of opera, but any music was better than no music at all. Circe tried to sing along, but, as far as Lyssa could tell, the only Italian she knew was food related

“Molto bene!”
she belted out in a slightly off-key voice. “Fettuccini!”

Lyssa smiled and hummed along with her. Riding in a car with Circe might be scary, but at least it wasn’t boring Circe drove with one foot hanging out of the driver’s-side
window and the other balanced on the wheel, helping her steer while she tried to brush her red curls off her face. There was a brick propped against the gas pedal since Circe’s legs weren’t quite long enough to reach it.

“Pepperoni pizza!” Circe sang

“You aren’t even trying,” Lyssa said, laughing

“I think I’m too hungry.” Circe leaned over Lyssa’s lap and yanked open the glove compartment, pulling out a gooey peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She took a huge bite, then held the sandwich out to Lyssa, leaking a glob of jelly onto her leg

“Wam thum?”

Lyssa reached for the sandwich gratefully and chomped into it. Mmmm. Peanut butter

“Thith iv tho good,” Lyssa said, swallowing. “What’s in here?”

“Secret peanut butter and jelly recipe,” Circe said, winking. Lyssa passed the sandwich back. “Want to hear it?”

“Yes!” Lyssa exclaimed. “I love to bake and cook. My mom and I…” She trailed off and then coughed to clear the lump that had swelled momentarily in her throat. “Well, anyway. What is it?”

Circe told her the recipe, and she whipped her notebook out and started jotting it down

Circe took another big bite of her sandwich, steering
the truck with her knees while she ate. There was a big glob of peanut butter smudged across her nose, and Lyssa watched Circe try to lick the peanut butter off with her tongue

Every time Michael brushed his teeth, he somehow got a glob of toothpaste on the tip of his long nose—just like that. It’d been Lyssa’s mom’s job to get the toothpaste off before he left for work. After Ana had…after, Lyssa had made sure to hand Michael a washcloth every morning at breakfast

Lyssa’s throat felt thick, like she’d just swallowed a rock. Was Michael walking around with toothpaste on his nose right now? Had anyone told him it was there?

Lyssa sighed and leaned back against her seat, pushing the thoughts of Michael out of her head. She pulled her backpack onto her lap and started digging around inside, looking for another granola bar. The peanut butter sandwich had barely taken the edge off her hunger. Her stomach still grumbled painfully, but when she pulled the sandwich bag of granola bars out of her backpack, she saw that they’d been smooshed so badly that they were barely more than a powder of crumbs. Frowning, Lyssa opened the bag and tried to dump the rest of the granola into her mouth

Circe was licking the final bits of peanut butter and
jelly off her fingertips. She used an elbow to steer the truck over to a wide-open field dotted with red and white daisies, then yanked up on the emergency brake. The truck shuddered to a stop.

“This is the most famous patch of soil in Oregon,” Circe said. “We’re at the very far edge of the Hood River Valley. You heard of it?”

Lyssa barely heard her. At the bottom of her bag, she felt grainy piles of seeds

“Oh, no.” Lyssa shifted through the other items in her backpack until she found her mom’s seed pack maracas. One of the packets had ripped open and there were tomato seeds everywhere

A lump formed in the back of Lyssa’s throat and she swallowed, hard. Her mom used to say seeds were magical: they contained all the beauty and mystery of life in a tiny little package. That’s why she and Lyssa liked to use them to make musical instruments. How could Lyssa have just shoved the seed packet maracas in her backpack, where they could get torn up and ruined?

“Hey, are you listening?” Circe asked. She had one hand on the door, like she was about to push it open. “If you’re going to ride in my truck, you have to help me with my pigs. They need to graze in this field.”