Tonight we drove around for a bit, one last
spin through town before Riley has to board the bus for boot camp
in the morning. Then he mentioned the beer and we headed for the
turn-off, a local hangout down by Swift Creek where kids go to
drink and make out. Past the high school, the main strip peters out
to a dirt road and the town gives way to waist-high grass full of
chiggers and ticks and snakes. The road runs straight to the creek,
but off to one side is a gravel-lined turn-around where the grass
has been trampled down, and cigarette butts and wads of chewed gum
litter the gravel. The turn-off. On the weekend, the place is
packed until well after midnight, pickup trucks jostling for space,
the air full of teenage laughter. Tonight’s Wednesday, though, and
there’s a storm br
