Bone Gap by Laura Ruby

of the bees, feeling that hum in their skin. Instead of moving past the house, beyond the house, instead of charging around Illinois by way of South Dakota, the mare walked toward the house, toward the gray windows like closed lids. The horse sniffed and snorted, lingering by one of the windows. She tossed her head, mane shimmering in the moonlight.
    â€œThis one?” whispered Finn.
    The horse snorted again. Finn leaned over and rapped on the window. When there was no answer, he did it again.
    Thin hands shoved the curtains aside, and Petey’s wide, angry eyes were framed in the window. She reached down andyanked up the sash. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”
    He didn’t know what he was going to say until he said it.
    â€œI can’t find my cat.”
    She was wearing only a thin T-shirt and the kind of cutoffs that melted his brain, but she pulled on some boots and climbed out of the window as if she’d been doing this sort of thing for years, and maybe she had. He’d heard about the things that Petey did. And maybe, if he was honest with himself, it was one of the reasons he was here. But it wasn’t the most important one. He was too happy to see her. Too interested in what she might say, no matter how much it stung.
    She scrunched up her face, her fingers idly stroking the horse’s nose. Then her face relaxed.
    â€œOkay,” she said, looking up at him. “Where to?”
    â€œI thought maybe we’d go for a ride,” Finn said, something else he hadn’t known he was going to say.
    â€œDoes the horse know where the cat is?”
    â€œShe seems to know a lot of other things.”
    Petey gathered her hair and tied it into a knot at the nape of her neck. “You still don’t have a saddle. How am I supposed to get up there?”
    He glanced around the yard, spied a large rock at the corner of the house. He pointed to it. She nodded and took a few quick strides and a leap to land on top of it, smooth and graceful. He walked the horse alongside the rock, holding the reins in onehand. Petey looked at the space behind Finn and the space in front of him. Then she turned her face away, focusing on some star in the distance, as if looking at him directly was a little too hard.
    She blew out her breath just like the mare. “Listen. I’m sorry about the other day. Sometimes I’m . . . I should . . .”
    The words tumbled out. “You should wear those shorts more often?”
    Startled, she glanced down at herself. At first he thought it had been the wrong thing to say, the kind of thing one of the Rude boys would have said right before they told her she had a rockin’ body but a butterface, but then Petey looked up and smiled with half her mouth.
    She smiled with both sides when he said, “Here’s a college essay idea: Describe the shorts that changed your life in the form of a poem.”
    â€œI like it.” She put her hands on her hips. “So?”
    â€œSo, what?”
    â€œWhere’s my poem?”
    â€œMaybe someday I’ll write you one.”
    She grabbed ahold of the horse’s mane and swung one leg over the horse’s neck, faltering only for a moment till Finn steadied her with a hand on her hip. She settled against him, her back to his chest. She didn’t say anything more as he put one arm on each side of her and urged the horse forward.
    The mare walked quietly from the yard, as if she was tryingvery hard to be sneaky, and began a gentle trot as they passed the Corderos’ farmhouse. Each step of the mare brought Petey closer, until she was fitted to Finn like a puzzle piece, her head under his chin. He hadn’t realized how much of her height was in her legs, smooth bare legs that glowed gold in the moonlight.
    The mare splashed through the stream, peppering her riders with droplets of cool water, then headed for the cemetery, which was clouded over with a strange