Aggie was sixteen that summer but she felt younger than the other girls in more than years, and looked forward to anything that would change her. She headed out from her parents’ house with a lipstick in the pocket of her skirt and a hot wind at her back that she owned too in a way that she would never admit to anyone, it would sound so dumb. Luckily, nobody else was around for miles, and that meant she could think of it as hers, her personal tempestuous wind. And the best part was that it was tireless; it would blow and blow and never give up. This was nine or ten days after Elena Huhtala had left Trevna for parts unknown, and the romance of her going was still crowding Aggie’s mind and encouraging her to think more than usually interesting thoughts. A big gust shoved her along and she trotted easily for a few moments, like a colt towards some held-out carrot. Down the road the sky sagged in front of her, promising nothing, but the world in turmoil suited Aggie; she felt in her bones that at any moment – just give her the chance – she could do something heroic.
