Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I cleared my throat and pulled my sweat-damp T-shirt away from my body. “Race today was tough. Guess I’m more out of shape than I realized.”
My dad’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and I thought he was going to say something, but then he glanced at Paul, frowned, and kept his mouth shut.
What was that about?
“You know, I haven’t been trail running in years,” I said, calling on all my reserves of charm. “And I didn’t remember how steep that hill was, where the trail comes out of the woods right by the Welcome to Licking Thicket sign… I mean, where the sign used to be.”
My mother made a noncommittal noise.
I glanced at Paul, who shrugged unhelpfully. They seemed determined to stay quiet, and that made me more determined to draw them out, damn it.
“So, why’d you decide to take the sign down?” I asked no one in particular.
“We didn’t,” Dad said tightly. “It was stolen. Again.”
My mom leaned over to pat his arm. “Stay calm, Red. Remember what Dr. Yates said—”
“The dang doctor isn’t mayor of a town that’s missing its dang sign, two days before the biggest dang festival of the year,” Dad exploded. He caught my eye again and sighed. “Few years ago, Amos Nutter had an idea to change the sign and add a motto to increase tourism. So, they took down the old sign that just said, ‘Welcome to Licking Thicket’—you remember?”
I nodded.
“And put up a new one that had a big ol’ salt lick stickin’ out of the ground, and a cow with a giant tongue licking at it.”
I shut my eyes, just picturing a giant, phallic salt lick. Jesus.
“And the motto said… what was it again, Cindy Ann?”
“You’ll Have the Lickin’ of Your Life in Licking Thicket,” she recited proudly. “I thought it was pretty catchy.”
Paul and I exchanged a look. I hoped mine conveyed, “If you laugh, your life’s forfeit.” He seemed to become fascinated by the trees flashing by as we drove down the road, so I was pretty sure it did.
“That’s… a heck of a motto,” I agreed.
Dad grunted. “You’re not the only one who thought so. Sign only lasted a couple weeks. Ended up on the—whatjamacallit, Cindy Ann?”
“Ebay,” Mom supplied. “Sold for a pretty penny too!”
“So Amos decided to make the cow meaner on the next sign. He looked ready to eat that salt lick—”
Paul coughed into his arm.
“—but it didn’t seem to matter none, ’cause that sign got sold too, same’s the first.”
“And sold for even more.” Mom shook her head, clearly befuddled.
“We went back to the old sign after that… but it was too late,” he said darkly.
“Turned out there was a real market for those signs even without the motto,” Mom explained. “Folks had gotten a taste for the Thicket. And since then, we can’t seem to keep them around for more than a couple months at a time.”
“Sheriff Nutter can’t get a handle on it, nor can old Amos with all his contacts, and neither can I. And if two Nutters and a Johnson can’t get the job done, I don’t know who can.”
I bit my lip against a whimper. Did they not hear themselves?
But Dad sounded genuinely upset, so my mom patted his arm again and said lovingly, “It’s gonna be alright, Red. It will. Folks will still find us, even if we have to get some volunteers to stand out in the field and hold up the sign, honey. Even if I have to stand out in that field myself. Promise.”
Dad shot her a grateful smile, and my stomach clenched as something sorta clicked into place for me.
It wasn’t that the dick jokes and the double entendres weren’t funny, because they were. But growing up, they hadn’t been a source of embarrassment for me either. I’d sort of accepted that I lived in a place with a weird name and a weird annual celebration, and it hadn’t been until I left that I’d started making fun of it instead of being part of the fun. In the Us vs. Them of life, I’d wanted so badly to be something bigger than a Johnson from Licking Thicket that I’d started laughing at the town instead of with them, cringing at how silly they sounded.
I wondered if that made me no better than Kale Storms, trying to pitch barbecue sauce while misunderstanding everything General Partridge stood for.
“Maybe we need to find a sign that can’t be removed,” I suggested. “Something really permanent.”
Dad nodded and gave me a little smile too. “Well, if you think of something, Brooks, you let me know.” He pulled the car into the driveway next to my little car, and we all climbed out. “If I haven’t told you already, good job today, son,” he said. He came around the truck, wrapped an arm around my mom’s waist, and looked from Paul to me. “You’ll get ’em next year, yeah?”