The Four-Way Stop F L E T C H J OYNER
“Let’s go eat somewhere.” Nathan tried a new tactic to persuade his mother not to make him return for the last hour of school. She was driving him back from the doctor’s office in Denton, the nearest sign of civilization. They turned off Interstate 35 onto the long two-lane road that steadily inclined past dead grass and cattle until it reached Krum, Texas. “The doctor said you can’t eat until after three.” She wasn’t buying his negotiations. “Plus, you can’t miss getting your homework for the weekend.” He avoided her eyes and looked to the top of the hill. The abandoned grain silo greeted their return, a monument to a town with so few people that it had almost ceased to exist on at least one occasion. “We don’t have homework on the weekends.” “That so?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, besides homework, you have to see if you made the talent show. Aren’t you excited about that?” “I doubt I made it.” Nathan pulled at the folds of his Smashing Pumpkins shirt. Silver letters across the front of a black background read ZERO, with a single star underneath. He did not think of the irony it labeled him with. Instead it made him think that learning how to play the guitar for the talent show would have been much cooler than his current stringed instrument, the violin. Last week he had stood trembling in front of a table of teachers from the different art departments playing Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major.” Though the art department of Krum Middle School seemed impressed by his rendition, he knew his peers could care less about dead, wigwearing German composers. Nathan’s mother pulled up to the four-way stop that made up the center of the town. Krum was the only town where you could say the four-way stop with no confusion as to the exact location you referred to. To the left was the one video store with its single copies of last year’s blockbusters. Straight ahead, more hot dirt and cows. They took the only other remaining option, turning right to pass the one convenience store for the town and the chamber of commerce. In no time at all, they arrived at the combination middle school/high school. It was arranged in a V shape - with one wing each for the divisions normally housed in separate buildings in any other town. “Dad and I should be home around six, so you’ll need to walk today.” She handed him a five through the window. “You can stop and get a snack on the way home.” She winked at him. “Love you, hon’.” Nathan took the five and shoved it in his jeans’ pocket. As he pulled up the strap on his violin’s gig-bag over his shoulder, he scanned for onlookers. No one 16