Page 33 of The Serpent King

“Do you really think living here hasn’t had a big hand in who you’ve turned out to be? Do you think you’d have had the same drive to create Dollywould if we’d laid the world out for you at your doorstep?”

“Are you seriously saying that living in this shitty town was part of some grand strategy to make me a go-getter?”

“That was part of it. Yes.”

Lydia reached out and smacked her dad on the forehead, as if swatting a mosquito.

He winced and pulled away. “Look, do you think there’s anywhere—any city, any high school—where someone as smart and talented as you can waltz in and do your thing and nobody will try to tear you down because they feel inferior to you?”

“I don’t know.” She rested her head back on her dad’s shoulder.

“I went through what you did in high school.”

“Oh please. Mom told me you were class president of Forrestville High.”

“That doesn’t mean I had a lot of close friends or that I fit in. It means that I was nice to everyone and they rewarded me for it. I still felt lonely.”

“Then why did you come back here to raise your daughter? Look me in the eye and tell me that it wasn’t because you were afraid of living in a bigger city.”

“I don’t think it was fear so much as the inertia of living in a familiar place that we feel connected to. Nowhere is perfect.”

“And here I’ve been thinking that Forrestville couldn’t be improved.”

Her dad grabbed a handful of the dwindling popcorn. “Hey, I think it’s fine, and when I was in high school I didn’t even have two friends as close and loyal as Dill and Travis. I can see it on those guys’ faces. They’d stand between you and a pack of lions.”

“Pride of lions.” She grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“Whatever. They wouldn’t let lions eat you. Don’t think you won’t miss them when you’ve gone off to bigger and better things. Part of you will miss this life.”

“I’ll be too busy to miss stuff.”

“No you won’t. Listen, sweetie, these are real friends you have. Genuine friends. Two of them. That’s two more than a lot of people who live in bigger cities and do fancier things have.”

Her voice became faint, like it became when she knew she had to concede something but thought she could keep the universe from hearing. “I know.”

“So stop hating your parents for making the choice we made about where to raise you. If we’d raised you in the big city, you might’ve gotten hit by a stray bullet in a drive-by shooting or something.”

She lifted her head from her dad’s shoulder and rolled her eyes after making sure he was watching. “I am so regretting that I made you watch The Wire. I should’ve guessed you’d be a total doofus about it.”

“What are Dill’s and Travis’s plans after they graduate?”

She sighed. “I mean, I guess Dill’s going to go full time at Floyd’s and Travis’ll work full time at the lumberyard. And they’ll live their lives and go to Waffle House or whatever and get old and die.”

“Hey,” her dad said, more sharply than usual. “Don’t.”

Lydia gave him a reproachful, wounded glance, frowning. “Sorry. Jeez, don’t be a creep.”

“No, sweetie. I’m not being a creep. You’re being very haughty and unkind about their lives. People live quiet lives and that’s okay. There’s dignity in that, no matter what you may think.”

“I wish they wanted more out of life because I care about them. I hate thinking about Dill and Travis stuck here, living pathetic lives. It bums me out. I want Dill especially to go to college and do something with his life.”

“I don’t think they’re trying to inconvenience you personally. Their circumstances are really different from yours.”

“Duh, I know.”

“Do you? Can you keep a secret?”

She gave him an of-course-I-can-how-dare-you-question-me look.