Sorta Like A Rock Star Part 32

Instead, I pull out an origami swan from my pocket and show it to him.

No emotion registers on his face.

I unfold the swan with trembling hands.

My poem is written in huge letters.

With an open hand, I hold my words up to the gla.s.s and watch my mother's killer read what I have written to him-how I am responding to his murdering my mother.

You may exist in This world-but I exist too And I will not yield The face of my mother's killer does not change.

He nods toward the headset again and yells, PUT IT ON!

He's trying to yell through the gla.s.s, he obviously wants to say something to me, but he doesn't get to call the shots today.

I see the guards behind him stiffen.

I keep my haiku up against the gla.s.s and shake my head no.

Suddenly, the man lunges toward the gla.s.s.

Attacks my haiku with his head-banging it against the gla.s.s several times before the guards come and drag him out of the visitor's room.

I don't even flinch.

Only when they have him completely out of the room do I lower my haiku from the gla.s.s.

I leave my poem there on the desk; I want it to stay in the prison.

"What the h.e.l.l did you write on that piece of paper?" the young skinny guard asks me.

When I don't answer, he walks past me and picks up my haiku.

I walk out of the visitor's room, and the woman guard escorts me past security, through the metal detector, and out of the prison.

Surprisingly, I'm feeling a little better having faced my mother's killer.

He has not defeated me-and if a man like him can't beat me, I know nothing will.

There is life all around me.

Sky.

Clouds.

Trees.

Endless air.

Birds flying overhead.

There is a good bearded boy in a Volvo waiting for me.

All this, right now, is mine to experience.

I need to drink it up for Mom, for all of those who cannot-and for me too.

I'm only eighteen.

These are the days.

I'm still a kid if I want to be.

And I do.

Bearded Ty gets out of the car when he sees me walking across the parking lot, but he doesn't say anything. His face expresses concern. I can tell he cares about me-deeply. And I can tell he is still a kid too-in spite of the hideous friends.h.i.+p beard.

"I did what I had to do," I tell him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay."

"Do you want to open your presents?" I ask.

"Presents?"

"For driving me today."

"I'm not sure this is the appropriate-"

"We're opening your presents. Get in the car."

We get into his Volvo station wagon.

"Here's present number one," I say and then hand him a small but heavy wrap job.

"This is sort of weird," Ty says.

"What?"

"Opening presents in the parking lot of a maximum security prison."

"We're celebrating our freedom. We're celebrating our ability to be kids when everything is trying to take that away from us. It's a choice, Ty. We can do whatever we want."

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, just open it already. You're going to like this present. I promise."

Ty rips off the wrapping paper. "Batteries?"

"Open 'em up. You'll only need two."

"For what?"

"For present number two."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Ty gets two batteries ready and then opens his second present.

"An electric razor," he says.

I grab the box, open it up, and put the batteries into the electric razor.

I flick it on and it makes a buzzing noise.

BZZZZZZZ.

I look Ty in the eyes and I say, "I think it's time to shave off that awful beard."

"I'm not shaving until you agree to go to Friendly's with The Five," he says, and then laughs sorta strangely, as if he's no longer sure about his plan. "Remember?"

But then suddenly, I want to look into his eyes-I want to know that there is something inside of Ty. Something human. The opposite of what I saw while looking through the Plexiglas-gazing into the eyes of a monster.

I search those brown orbs.

They are innocent.

They are the color of bark.

They are alive.

They are boyish.

They are full of possibility.

They are full of hope.

They are gorgeous.

They are beautiful.

They give me fuel-they make my chest feel so warm.

"Well, then, we'll go to Friendly's," I say. "Just as soon as we pick up The Five. You have my word. So this is the part where I get to shave off your beard."

BZZZZZZZZ! says the electric razor "You have to trim it with scissors first," Ty says.

So I show him the scissors that came with the electric razor.

"You're gonna do it in my car? Right here?"

"Yep," I say.

He swallows once, and then says, "Please, Amber. Not in my sweet ride."

So we step out of the car and I carefully snip Ty's beard down to the skin with scissors-so much hair falls to the asphalt of the maximum-security prison parking lot.

Carefully-I shave Ty's face with the battery-operated electric razor.

A boy emerges from underneath all that facial hair.

"How's it feel to be clean-shaven?" I ask when we are back in the Volvo.

"The people at the bank are going to be pleased," Ty says. "My parents will probably write you a thank-you note."

Ty and I eat a late lunch at McDonald's-cheeseburgers, salty fries, milk shakes-and then we ride the rest of the way home from the maximum-security prison listening to pop music on the radio, and when a good song comes on that we both know, we sing it loudly.

When we get back to Childress, we stop by Chad's and Jared's house.

"You shaved the beard!" Jared says. "Does that mean we're going to Friendly's?"

When I nod, the Brothers Fox smile and Jared carries Chad into the backseat.

We pick up Ricky just as Donna is getting home from work.

In the kitchen, Ricky says, "Ty Hendrix does not have a beard. Yes. Where did his beard go?"

"You're going back to Friendly's, eh?" Donna asks as BBB runs around our legs and licks my boys' hands when they bend down to pet B Thrice.

"You wanna come with, Donna?" I ask.

"You kids go and have your fun," she says.

"You haven't ridden in my Volvo yet, Donna," Ty says. "It's a sweet ride."

"You really want me to come?" Donna asks.

"Come on, sugar," Chad-in-a-backpack says. "You know you want to sit next to me in the backseat. I'll keep my hands to myself. Promise."

We all laugh, and Donna says, "I'm paying then."

I put BBB in his room, put on the cla.s.sical music station, and it's playing Chopin's "Minute Waltz," which makes BBB start jumping and dancing, so I watch him for a while-my best buddy, BBB-and then I lock B Thrice's bedroom door and we all pile into Ty's Volvo station wagon, and someone suggests that we ring and run Franks' house, so we drive there, and Jared runs up to the door, rings the doorbell, and then runs back into the car. When Franks' redheaded wife steps outside and looks around clueless, we all laugh, and Ty hits the gas.