Pick-me-up by Cecilia La France

appear dumb. Tim
had been interested in everything else she’d talked about so far.
She opted for humor, “Is it related to why I have to change my
sister’s kids’ diapers?”
    He laughed, and she felt a small victory
inside.
    “It’s full of shit, for sure.” He paused and
then went into explanation. “Schools are under pressure for kids to
pass. Schools that don’t make the grade get in trouble. You are
their homework.”
    Katelyn frowned.
    “Plus, Chiquita, you cost that school
district some money if you leave.”
    “Huh?” She wished she could take back the
expression and say something more intelligent, but she was
struggling to understand all he was saying. How does he know so
much about this? she wondered.
    “Schools get a certain amount of tax money
for each student in their enrollment. I may be somewhat new in
town, but I don’t see a line at the door of people dying to go to
school here.”
    “So, how do you work. I mean, who gets your
money’s worth?”
    He laughed. “There’s the kicker.” His voice
turned wicked in tone. “Your school has to pay for me to go to my
school.” He let the thought sink in. “They contract with the
alternative school for kids like me.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He didn’t respond immediately. He shrugged
and in a dismissive voice said, “They can’t leave me behind, but
they can toss me off to someone else.”
    Katelyn sensed he didn’t want to talk about
it, and she didn’t push. She switched the topic, asking about his
old school and which classes he liked. They continued talking about
likes and dislikes, funny stories and embarrassing moments, and
anything that popped up because of each other’s stories.
    But, he always ended his side of the
conversation with a question or inquiry into her life. It was
strange to be questioned so directly, but it was welcome. Katelyn
wasn’t used to someone who thought she had this many things to talk
about. He wanted to know about her, and Katelyn found herself
willing to share.
    The trail met up with a bridge near the
county fairgrounds. Tim let go of her hand and ran up under the
bridge, concealed momentarily in the shadows. He emerged with a
small cooler bag. He opened it, removed two beers and handed her
one. Katelyn saw two more in the pouch before he zipped it closed
and slung the strap over his shoulder. “I’d have more, but my mom
is starting to believe how much of an alcoholic she really is.” He
laughed at his own joke, grabbed her hand again, and headed off the
trail. “Come on.” They were back on street sidewalks. Both stayed
quiet and alert, but no headlight ever announced an oncoming
car.
    He pointed down a side street as they passed
by. In a tour guide voice he announced, “And just eight houses east
is Casa Felske, a humble two-bedroom, full basement ranch.” Katelyn
made a mental note of the street. She wanted to see it in the
daylight.
    Another five minutes of walking brought them
to the south railroad line. Trains were second nature to people who
lived in Northrup. On a busy day, 64 trains passed through the
town, blaring their horn at each of the eight intersections as
mandated. The south railroad line wasn’t as busy, but it also had
fewer intersections, so trains would often speed through
faster.
    Tim took another long drink from his beer,
finishing it off. He shook the can to confirm its emptiness in a
show to Katelyn and then threw it onto the tracks where it hit a
rail and dropped down between the rocks and wood rail ties. Katelyn
lifted hers and took another drink, but it was still over half
full.
    “Ready for another?” he asked as he unzipped
the cooler.
    “Um,” Katelyn considered. She didn’t really
like beer, but drank it because her friends offered. “No, I’m a
slow drinker.”
    He smiled and opened his new beer. He took
another drink and then started off, except he turned onto the
railroad tracks instead of following the sidewalk. He turned back
to her. “Come on,”