Nathan remembers the sliding shadow in her housecoat, the deepening dark circles under her eyes. "It'll be okay. She'll let me go."
They have arrived at Nathan's final class. Roy has led the way, and at the last moment lays his hand on Nathan's shoulder. The almost hidden gesture passes unnoticed in the general commotion of classes changing, but for Nathan the brief nervous flare sears him. I’ll see you after school."
Roy hurries to his own class. Nathan takes his seat in Biology, opening his text to the chapter on cell mitochondria.
The bus ride home is intimate in a way Nathan can hardly credit, as if, out of all the noisy creatures on the bus, only he and Roy truly exist. Even when Nathan looks out the window at the tattered autumn fields, Roy watches from the overhead mirror, eyes hanging in the air.
He stops the bus on the dirt road, when all the others have gone. He calls Nathan to the front of the bus. The press of his body is familiar and heady. He traps Nathan's head against his chest. They hold still against each other, breathless through silence, till the distant drone of a truck motor warns them of itself. Roy releases Nathan unhurriedly. "We won't have to worry about this kind of shit in the woods."
Still without hurry, he reclaims the driver's seat and they finish the drive home, sliding into the parking place beneath laced branches.
Nathan gathers his books. When he stands, so does Roy. They walk together to Nathan's house.
In the kitchen, Mom faces Roy with hardly a trace of surprise. Roy stands straight, brushes back his hair, asking his question in a manner that manages to be both courteous and bold. He says he wants to take Nathan camping for the weekend, till late Sunday, and he's sorry not to have asked sooner but him and his friends just thought of the trip and this is the perfect weekend for it, almost the last one, really. The weatherman says it's going to be warm and pretty, like a little taste of summer. He says he'll look after Nathan and nothing will happen to him. She laughs nervously when he finally stops talking. "Nathan doesn't even have a sleeping bag."
"I have an extra one."
He faces her with calm assurance. Something about his directness makes her shy away, as from a too bright lamp, and she turns aside. "Yes, I guess it's a good idea."
"Pardon me, ma'am?"
"I said I guess it's all right. He can go." She nods her head toward Nathan without looking at him.
Roy comes upstairs with Nathan to pack, counting what he should bring on his fingers. The fact that Nathan's dad could come home any time adds urgency, and they move quickly. Nathan owns no backpack so he gathers clothes and necessities in a bundle for packing at Roy's house.
Roy explains the camping trip to his mother with an air of presumption. Nathan and he are to meet Burke and Randy at the Indian mound as soon as possible so maybe they can hike farther into the woods before sunset. This means you need to hurry, Roy says, moving deliberately from one task to the next. He sets his mother to packing provisions, and she slices bacon and cheese and wraps slices of bread in plastic. Roy gives Nathan clear, concise instructions on counting tent pegs, bundling them properly, tightening their shared canteen so it does not leak, fastening the snap over the head of the knife to keep it sheathed. He checks everything and finally divides the bundle into two packs. Nathan's is lighter but the weight is still substantial, and the fact pleases Nathan in an odd way. He walks easily even with the weight on his back. He feels suddenly sturdy, as if he could carry the pack forever, and walk forever, into the woods.
Roy's mother stands in the yard to wave them off. Nathan's mother is nowhere to be seen.
It is easy for Nathan to refuse to look back. He has been granted two days of safety, and the woodland enfolds him in green gold. By now the pond and cemetery are familiar landmarks, and Nathan knows by certain signs—the particular twist of a branch, the bend of the creek that runs through the woods here—that they are following the path to the Indian mound. Roy's long strides set an easy pace and his silence engulfs Nathan so that both move with attention to quiet. The country thereabouts is haunted with memories of the courtship between the boys, and near the creek bed they look at each other. "Don't say anything about that," Roy warns, but he is laughing when he says it.
On the Indian mound they see two figures waiting. Burke and Randy hoist their backpacks, moving in tandem. Burke hollers, "About time you lazy assholes got here," and Roy answers, "I get where I'm going exactly when I please," as he and Nathan climb the mound.
A shyness overtakes Nathan during the climb, and he is almost speechless when Randy claps him on the back. "I see you got your ma to let you come with us. That's good, I'm glad."
Burke spits into a patch of golden leaves, saliva stretching to a thread. "Nathan ain't no baby."
