Page 45 of The Serpent King

I get you.

I know. That’s why I like you.

You’re lucky to have even two good friends at school. I don’t really have anyone.

Oh yeah, I know, I just wish

Travis’s phone rang in the middle of composing his reply to Amelia.

Speak of the devil. “Hey, Dill, what’s up?”

“Hey, Travis, do you have to work today?”

“Nope, yard’s closed on Sundays. Why?”

“I could use your help. My mom’s car won’t start, and we need to get it fixed before Monday so she can get to her jobs. But I don’t know anything about cars and we can’t afford the mechanic. Do you think you could help me try to figure it out?”

“Oh yeah, no problem. Let me eat some quick breakfast and wet down my hair and I’ll be over.”

“Hey, Travis? I’m sorry about the other day. Being a jerk.”

Travis laughed. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’ll be right over.”

Most people wouldn’t be excited to get a call on a quiet Sunday morning, asking them to help fix a car. But Travis loved helping people do things; being with his friends; being away from his father; and pulling a diseased part out of a car, holding it in his hands, and then replacing it with a shiny new one that resurrected the car. Dill offered him the chance to do all four things. Plus, he was in the mood to talk to Dill. He felt like it was time to tell him about Amelia. Dill wasn’t as good with the jokes as Lydia, so Travis felt safer telling him.

Travis went into the kitchen, where his mom had some warm biscuits and gravy, bacon, and eggs ready. He hugged her and told her where he was going, then texted Amelia goodbye. He wolfed some food, grabbed his toolbox—he suspected Dill wouldn’t have much more than a screwdriver and a pair of needle-nose pliers—and headed over to Dill’s. As a bonus, he didn’t even see his father, who had gone bowhunting.

Travis parked his red Ford pickup behind Dill’s mom’s Chevy Cavalier. Dill had the hood open and was studying the engine.

“You looking for the on/off switch?” Travis said, grinning, as he got out of his truck.

Dill smiled, stepped aside, and ran his hand through his hair. “I really hope you can help me figure this out.”

“Let’s see what it’s doing.” Travis took the keys, got in, and tried to start it. “Lights work fine, so it’s not the battery,” he mumbled. He turned the key. Nothing. No click, no sound whatsoever. He turned the key again. Nothing.

He thought for a second, running through some scenarios in his head. If it were the alternator, the battery would be dead and the lights wouldn’t come on. If it were the fuel system, the engine would turn and chug, but not start.

He got out of the car and closed the hood. “I think you’ve got a bad starter motor.”

“You sure?” Dill asked.

Travis readjusted his baseball cap. “Nope. But it’s the best guess I’ve got.”

“Are starter motors hard to replace?”

“Nope.”

“Are they expensive?”

“Probably fifty, sixty bucks for this car.”

The look on Dill’s face said that even that was expensive, but they’d have to manage.

They got in Travis’s pickup and rumbled off to the auto parts store. Travis had another reason he was glad to be helping Dill. Something else had been weighing on him. “So, I know she’s been gone most of this week looking at colleges with her mom, but have you talked to Lydia since last Friday?”

Dill took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. “No.”

“Not a word?”