The morning air was foggy enough to see it wasn’t still, and still enough to not see anything at all beyond the cloud. Looking out the upstairs bedroom window, Kelsey Lou Faye tapped her fingers against her thigh without any particular rhythm. She knew the sun was up ‘cause the fog was gray instead of black, but there was no knowin’ how long now it’d be before Ma’d wake up and start makin’ the whole family wish they’d died in their sleep.

Minutes passed. Kelsey Lou was sure someone in the house would have somethin’ to say ‘bout how much nothin’ she was doing, if they noticed. Each tick of the old Coca-Cola clock she’d confiscated from her late great-grandfolks’ front porch felt like a rebellion, an uprising of cosmic soldiers within her bones assembling to wage war against the long and valiant foe of Productivity.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Five whole seconds of nothin’ but breathing, being. Tick. Seven seconds of listenin’ to the fog outside the window. Kelsey Lou wondered why birds sing come the mornin’ light to assure one another they survived the night, but they don’t sing in fog to assure one another they’re still alive even when they’re invisible.

Breathing in the quiet old house while the seconds of life ticked themselves into the past was all Kelsey Lou could really do in the dense fog surrounding everything. Maybe the birds didn’t sing because they were too busy breathing slowly and deliberately, too? Maybe they were afraid of waking something scary sleeping on the other side of the fog.

Kelsey stretched her body. At fifteen years old, she’d already begun to know the consequences of skipping these moments of connection with the organic spacesuit she inhabited. She’d gotten a Nintendo for Christmas in the 4th grade and sat parked in front of it for about two years, paying no mind at all to her body. By the time her friend dragged her to Tae Kwon Do class at the Family and Community Center in Pentz County last year, she could barely touch her toes anymore.

Doing the splits on her bedroom floor didn’t feel good for its own sake, but it reminded her that she sometimes can change what doesn’t feel good. She can practice the movement she does like, and it’ll replace the stiffness and immobility she doesn’t like.

While stretching, she thought about going out to Mr. Hogg’s tow yard today to see about the 45-day impound junkers he’d have on hand. She made a decent enough way for herself at 15, buying up all the cars nobody came to pick up, then callin’ all the salvage companies close enough to give Old Homeplace County a moment’s thought. She’d schedule them to come bid on the cars and haul them away for parts and scraps, and made about 200% over what she paid Mr. Hogg on each one.

Kelsey Lou had been doin’ this work since she was 13, but she had to get real quiet about it last year when her mother threatened to call the police and tell ‘em her daughter was operating a business without a license and not payin’ taxes on her earnings. Mr. Hogg appreciated the extra hand haulin’ off his junkers, so he wouldn’ta let that wretched excuse of a mother know none of his business anyway. He’d told Ma he’d find a new worker to replace Kelsey Lou, shook Ma’s hand on it, and then spit on the ground as Ma walked off holding her head high in the air.

“Why’d you lie to her?” Kelsey Lou had asked when Mr. Hogg told her he had no intentions of replacing her at the impound, if she wanted to keep working for cash and keep it quiet.

“It ain’t easy gettin’ out of this county,” he said, “and it’s even harder stayin’ in it. Way I growed up, we care for one another. I can’t rightly reckon what got into that heathen Ma of yours, but she ain’t the carin’ type. Can’t survive a child to be an adult without someone who cares.” His eyes shifted off to the metal pile and retreated as quickly, as if he’d done seen a ghost.

“You’re a good worker, Miss Kelsey Lou Faye Farmer. Only thing harder’n gettin’ out of Hell is gettin’ out from under the thumb of your Ma. I can’t change what I can’t change, but I won’t change for her the way I run my business in the sight of God. God thinks you’re a fine worker who deserves a chance in life, and I sure do appreciate ya too. So what you wanna do, and what you tell that bat-bitten woman about it, that’s all ‘tween you and God now. I’ll hope to see you next week whenever you’re able to make it in. Just come on by.”

Kelsey leaned now onto her right leg, the left one satisfied to start the day. It’d been about a year since Mr. Hogg had said those words, and inside an old pickle jar she’d painted and decorated as an art project for school in the 6th grade she now had stashed two-thousand three-hundred forty dollars of U.S. currency from 117 salvaged car sales nobody but Mr. Hogg knowed about.

A tapping at the door startled Kelsey Lou out of her memory. It was gentle like a chipmunk. The door pushed open slow-like so as not to creak the hinges and stir Ma.

“Mornin’,” Kelsey Lou smiled at her baby sister.

Karly Lynn had just started 7th grade two months earlier and was an honor roll student. Kelsey Lou felt for her and wished their Ma wouldn’t ride her so hard. Not that it had been any different for her at that age, but she still hated seeing it happen to anyone else. Her sister had been such a burst of joy all her life, and it saddened Kelsey Lou to see her baby sister’s light starting to dim under the pressure of life in their home.

This morning, the dimness was especially noticeable, and Kelsey Lou came out of her leg stretches to sit upright, turning toward her sister. The concern in her eyes asked the question, and Karly Lynn hiccuped before she spoke.

“I’m pregnant, Kels.”

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