Hadley yelled out of her car window. “You busy?” “Nah,” said Beanie. “Fish must be gone to church, today. Ain’t gotta single bite.” “Throw your cane pole in the back seat, then,” Hadley said. “Come with me.” “Where we going, Hadley?” Beanie asked, putting his fishing pole in the back seat of Hadley’s car. It didn’t seem to hang out of the window too far when he angled it down into the back floor board. He opened the door and slid in beside Hadley. His coffee can of worms was securely positioned between his feet. He was pretty sure Hadley would not be happy if the can spilled out or if she had worms crawling up her legs as she drove. God forbid one wriggled into her shoe. He kept a close eye on the can. You never knew when a really athletic worm would wriggle out of the can and escape to freedom. Beanie knew from past experience that it was usually the biggest, fattest, bestest worms that managed to crawl over the lid edge, plop down to the ground, and slither away to safety.
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