Neil’s wound heals in a raised jagged scar that ascends his face from the corner of his mouth to his sandy hair. It makes him appear a more dangerous, more unapproachable and more desirable.
Tired of unasked and unanswerable questions, Neil leaves. He has nothing to hold him to Healdsburg; not friends, not his vanished father nor his bitter mother. He packs a few clothes and Huck’s most treasured bits of glitter, though he cannot find the silver bullet that Huck had plucked from beneath the redwoods.
He hitches rides, Huck on his shoulder, wandering down the winding California coast, losing himself in the ribbon of sand and sea beside the asphalt of endless road. He picks up odd jobs here and there, cutting wood, cleaning windows, bussing tables. He never stays long in one place. When he leaves, the memory of him and Huck fades slowly, like a lover’s scent on unwashed, sex-damp sheets.