The Girl from Blind River

The old, thin mattresses sunk low in the middle. You two share this room? Yeah, he knew how they lived, and she took it as a put down. She picked up a pair of jeans and folded them, giving him a look that meant it was time for him to go. But Keating lingered. He pointed at the army recruitment poster hanging on the wall over Toby's bed, a uniformed soldier standing in front of a US flag. I wanted to join the army when I was his age too, he said. Guns and tanks, boys like to dream about powerful things like that. Jamie hated that poster, those eyes always staring at her. But Toby was crazy for anything army. He's going to a military camp for the summer. That private school upstate, you got money for that? It was a stupid question. They never had that kind of money, and this man standing in her room with his brand new L.L. Beans sweater knew it. The back of her neck got hot. They let two kids in for free last year. Hardship case, huh? I got an old friend there. I could give him a call. I doubt he'll get in without a decent reference. Keating stepped closer to her. She flinched before she realized he was just turning to leave. It's only a phone call. He hesitated at the dresser by the door and picked up a framed photograph of her and Toby with their mother from ten years ago. Huh, he said. He looks like his dad. You knew him? It always shocked her to realize there were people in town who had known her father when he'd been dead half her life. Of course, you knew both your parents in high school decades ago, and you look a lot like your mother. People who knew Phoebe Elders were always saying that, and it bothered Jamie. She saw herself as different and cringed at the notion that fate was handed down through family DNA. He touched a finger to the photo. The gesture was intimate and wrong for someone outside the family. Jamie grabbed at the frame, accidentally jabbing a fingernail into the back of his hand. He winced and dropped the frame. She stepped backward. Sorry. She picked the frame up off the floor. There was a crack in the glass, but she could fix it with a little tape. Heating loomed in the doorway, rubbing his hand. It's nothing. Toby, thick-headed with sleep, muttered something that sounded like, nah, man, and rolled over. She held the photograph to her chest. Sometimes he talks in his sleep. That camp might teach him a few things, maybe keep him out of county detention. And from that last social services report, I'd say that's where he's headed. Wind slammed across the open field out back and shook the trailer on its foundation. Jamie tried to think of a comeback, but got caught up worrying about that social services report. Six months to his 18th birthday, and then they'd both be out of the system. Yeah, that camp works out. You can pay me back someday, he said as he left the room. He disappeared down the hallway and Jamie shut the door, wishing it had a deadbolt. It didn't sit well, being indebted to anyone even in this small way. Debts and favors were exactly how Blind River kept its hold on people. She sat on her cot up against the wall, pulled her laptop out of her backpack and powered it up. Its rumble and grind suggested yet another failing battery. But she was able to get online and log into her bank account to check if the transfer from her latest winnings had been deposited. It hadn't. She logged into the poker site and checked the date of her withdrawal. Seven days had passed. A few days was normal, but she would need a new computer any moment now. And every day that the money didn't show up added to the worry that something had gone wrong. If the transfer didn't come by morning, she'd have to figure another way to get online, because every day she wasn't making money meant one more day in this town. The windowpane over her bed rattled in the wind, and she pulled a blanket around her shoulders. Through the thin walls of the trailer, she heard the men in the outer room, their voices low and rhythmic as they grumbled and traded chips. Complained about running low on beer, and convinced Loyal to crack open another bottle of whiskey. Footsteps thudded down the hallway, and Jamie thought about pushing her cot against the door. A minute later, the toilet flushed. The footsteps stopped outside her door, and she held her breath until her uncle called out something muffled in.