my best

everything
By Sarah Tomp

LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY

New York Boston

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You frowned, your face an unfamiliar collection of

lines and edges. We cant sell it if its not. Someones
gotta make sure its good.
Be my guest, said Bucky.
He cant, I said.
Roni said, I dont want to either. I dont even like the
smell of it.
Who usually has the first taste? I asked.
Thats not usually a problem, you snapped.
I guess most moonshiners arent afraid of what theyre
making. Liking it too much is a more common problem.
Youd set up the rule we shouldnt drink on the job, and
wed listened to you. None of us wanted to be the guinea
pig or canary or dead drunk. As in actually dead.
You stood up, started pacing. At first I thought youd
stepped on something when I heard that crack. Then it
was obvious it came from the thick woods around us. You
froze. Put a finger to your lips and raised your other hand
to silence us. Squatting, you pulled a gun from the ankle
holster under your jeans.
You were wearing a gun.
A real gun.
Had been all day. Maybe every day.
You pulled it out so quick and easyit wasnt your first
time.
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My heart thumped in my ears almost as loud as Aunt

Jezebel getting ready to work. When I couldnt see whatever you were looking for in the trees, I locked my eyes
on you. At the junkyard we see shotguns. What Sal calls
the Dont Make Me Shoot You of guns. All threat, no accuracy. A smaller gun, like a pistol, requires aim and intent.
Its itching to fire. Yours made you look unfamiliar. Your
furrowed forehead shone with beads of sweat; your lips
pursed together as you pointed it toward the bushes.
At the same moment, we all saw what had broken the
stick. A deer, now frozen, stood about twenty feet away.
Roni begged, Dont shoot it, Mason.
You lowered the gun but looked wary.
I couldnt stay quiet any longer. Who did you think
was out there? Why do you even have that thing?
You looked at the gun in your hand, then back at me.
Dont you know its the people who have guns that
end up shot?
Oh, honey. Roni laughed. Here we go.
Bucky said, Mason, you might as well quit right now.
Lulus senior debate topic was gun control. You get her
going, shell never stop.
I never got much support for my ideas. Not in a place
like Dale, where everyone and their mother has some kind
of gun; but that didnt keep me from saying what I thought
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if I got the chance. Right then I was simply too pumped

up and too exhausted to stop. What or who would you be
okay with shooting?
Bucky said, Give it up, Lulu. Nothing happened. Its
over.
Guns only cause trouble. The adrenaline rush kept
me running my mouth without my brain attached. Its
so . . . so . . . stupid. And redneck.
Thats right, you said, your voice steady. Thats me.
Your eyes were already gone.
I . . . I didnt mean you, Mason. I meant the gun.
I fought back hot, surprising tears as you disappeared
over the hill without looking back.
I didnt mean him, I said. He cant think I did.
Can he?
Roni shrugged.
Bucky said, Mason doesnt see that gun like you do,
Lulu. Im sure he held a shotgun before he ever held a pencil. Its part of the household. You got spoons and forks
and cook pans and, oh yeah, the ammo is right there next
to the toilet paper.
While Bucky worked on getting the fire going again,
Roni and I went to the stream to wash up. I waded in,
splashing cool water over my sticky skin. I wished I could
also wash away what Id said to you. At the same time, I
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still didnt trust guns. Here was one more reminder of the
gaps we had between us.
Back at the campsite, Bucky was in a mood. He threw a
log on the fire with a crash, sending sparks out of the ring.
Dont burn down my land, Bucky, said Roni.
He pursed his lips. Pointed at me and said, Looks like
youre in charge again, Ms. Mendez. Now that you ran the
know-how off the job.
I couldnt blame him for blaming me. I blamed myself.
Id known you were barely on board with this plan. And
now Id gone and pushed you off.
The sun was low, and wed pulled out some hot dogs
and potatoes for dinner by the time you made your way
up the hill. Did you know not one of us expected you to
return?
You go for a ride? asked Bucky.
Down by the river.
How many miles do you think you ride in a week?
You said, I dont think of it that way. I just ride until
Im tired.
Thats yet another way were different. If I took up
ridingwhich in itself is unlikelyit would be all about
the miles. Something measurable and finite. Goals to
meet and pass.
Roni, determined to make things smooth again, chatted
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about all kinds of something and another. I was too unsettled to chime in until she said, Mason thinks we should
build a house up here.
Oh yeah? said Bucky.
Wouldnt that be something to tell the kids? She
laughed. Junior, your bed is right where your aunt Jezebel
used to stay.
I said, You should see the furniture Masons making
for Saint Judes.
Is that right? Roni turned her attention on you.
I love building things.
For some reason the pause after your words made
annoying tears prick at my eyes again. I gave myself a
stern, silent lecture about not looking at your lips or your
hands or your eyes or pretty much any part of you.
Eating gave us something to do and talk about. Then,
afterward you stood up and said some sort of magic gibberish. You opened your hands over the fire. An enormous
roar and whoosh raised the flames three feet.
Whoa!
The headsthe part of the run thats too toxic and
flammable to pour on the groundmade for reckless
fun with the fire. What is it that we love about making a
fire burn wild? Pushing it to burn higher and hotter. Id
seen gas fires at Sals. The damage that kind of heat can
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do to the metal shell of a car is humbling. Those flames

that night seemed to be just as strong and hot. I knew
the potential for destruction. And yet theyre also mesmerizing. Energizing. Again and again we laughed and
screamed at the way the fire danced and leaped, thirsty for
more fuel.
Finally, we all hit a wall of exhaustion. Bucky and Roni
left for their tent, and you looked ready to fall asleep in
your chair.
I said, Im sorry about today. With the gun.
You said, soft and sweet, Me too.
But, Mason. Who were you worried about? Youd
talked to us about ABC agents and arrests and red flags,
but I didnt think youd point a gun at anyone wearing a
badge.
Other shiners. Theyre the first to know when theres
a new still.
Why do they care?
Competition. Tradition. General meanness.
What would they do if they caught us?
You frowned in the dim light of the coals. You ever
see Deliverance?
Im glad I hadnt then. I didnt know what to be scared
of. Not exactly. I think you were kidding, mostly.
Remember how I told you I might be a liability?
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We cant do this without you, Mason.

You didnt disagree. You just said, Some people
wouldnt be too happy about me helping out rival shiners.
I laughed a little. Because I was nervous, but also to
think we could be seen as actual competition. Mason,
I think you should sleep in the tent tonight. Unless you
think the mosquitoes will miss you too much.
You cant sleep out here either, you said, clarifying
my invitation.
You were asleep before I even arranged my blankets. I
lay in the dark, where I smelled your skin mixed in with
the smell of smoke.
I didnt have to put up any boundaries because you
werent even knocking at the wall.

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