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Show Twisters . . . 81 She bounced a little on the striped mattress, which was covered with clear plastic. Testing it, I guess. "Ever think you'd end up in jail?" she asked, as she stood and tried to look out, I followed her to the window, "How come they put us in here? How are we going to know what's happening?" Stacey didn't answer, but when we 6at down again it was side by side, I was hoping she'd put her arm around me the way she had earlier, but she didn't. "Think of it this way, Dan," she said, as she picked some dried blood off her leg, "would you rather sleep here where it's nice and warm or on the floor at K Mart?" "K Mart!" I said without batting an eye. "Okay, okay!" She sighed as she took off her dad's jacket. "But remember, we didn't have any choice. They couldn't leave us out on the street, could they?" I knew she was right. When I pointed out that one sleeve of her blouse was ripped open, she finished it off, then slipped the cuff-end over her hand. She rolled up the other sleeve to match. I had to laugh when she told me uneven sleeves were going to be the new style in Grand Island, "I had a brand new pair of pink painter's pants in my closet," she said. "You know what's crazy? I bought 'em to go with this blouse." I knew exactly what she meant. Stacey took her turn in the John next, so Arthur and I pulled a bed to the window and climbed up, calling each other "jailbird" and "juvenile offender," trading elbow digs as we tried to see out. The sky overhead was black as ever, though the rain had let up. There were no city lights at all. Only the parking areas around the |