An hour later, the sun beat down on the car, and boredom was setting in. Tyler put down his phone and looked out the window, as an 18-wheeler sped past. His dad adjusted his mirror, and on the horizon, a gargantuan water tower proclaimed the existence of Arnold, Missouri. Which meant only two hours and 137 miles to go.

His mom lowered her window. "This highway makes me nauseous." A hot breeze blew into the car, and she rested on her arm to breathe it in. "Coming back up ain't so bad," she said, "but the drive down...."

Tyler smiled and leaned forward, and said into her hair, "You know your accent gets more Southern, the closer we get...?"

"Oh, does it?" She turned her head, and a daydreaming look came into her eyes. "You know, when I was growing up I thought Saint Louis was this big glamorous place. Like Paris or something."

His dad looked at her and laughed. "When I first met you, you were this naïve little country bumpkin. Didn't know what an indoor shopping mall looked like."

"Oh, I did too." Then she said, and she was being completely serious, "I'd seen them in the movies."

The radio began to sputter out, and soon its music turned into nothing but fuzz. Tyler sorted through his stack of CDs, and pried Abbey Road out of its case. He unclicked his seatbelt and dived over the front seat, pushing the disc into the player. As the first notes of "Come Together" filled the car, he sat back and relaxed.

They turned off the major highway, and the trees became so thick and so green that it looked as if they were approaching the car with some malevolent intent. Tyler picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He hadn't seen Emily Richmond in a while, but maybe it wasn't too late to resuscitate their friendship. They'd had German together in high school, so he tapped her name and typed: Was ist los?

Setting down his phone, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Quite a few miles later, a bump in the road shocked him out of his sleep. He looked back to see a stretch of empty highway, and then grabbed his phone from the floor of the car. Emily had so totally not texted him back, and he might as well give up on hearing from any of his and Jake's mutual friends. He glanced out the window to see a sign by the side of the road:

GREENVILLE, MISSOURI

POPULATION 443.

"We need to stop for gas."

His dad flipped on his blinker, and they exited the highway. The trees became more sparse, and several roadside businesses came into view. Signs reading GAS and BAIT and BBQ filtered out the sun. They drove off the road, crossed a mass of gravel to an awning, and parked. 

Tyler unclicked his seat belt. His dad opened his door and exited the car, leaving the keys in the ignition and causing that high-pitched beep to begin. He pulled a gas nozzle out if its holder and pumped it into the tank.

His mom leaned back and stretched. "Guess I'll go see if they have a bathroom." She opened her door and grabbed her purse. "You want a sodie pop while I'm in there?" 

"Yes," he said. "I want a sodie pop while you're in there."

She left the car, and Tyler opened his door. He stepped out into the heat, and felt his joints crack. Across the pavement, an old pickup truck rattled into a parking space. In the back of the truck, some breed of hound paced back and forth, and the barrels of several shotguns stuck into the air. But then another car drove past -  a brand new Range Rover, with a VOTE LIBERAL sticker on its bumper.

So Tyler turned to his dad and asked, "Are we in the South yet?"

"I don't know," he said, swiping his card through the machine. "Where does it really begin?"

"I guess it has to begin somewhere."

"Guess it would be an interesting experiment to find out."

When his mom returned, she handed him a cold bottle of liquid sugar. "Don't you have to go to the bathroom?"

"No," he said. "I'm good."

They got back in the car, and his dad turned the key. As Tyler unscrewed his soda, they drove over the pavement and back up a hill. A few miles later, he saw a billboard on the side of the road:

JESUS. 

Just JESUS. 

I think we've found where the South begins. 

As they drove down the highway, things began to look more populated. They crossed a bridge and a huge garage-type structure came into view. Dozens and dozens of tractors sat on acres of gravel, and on the other side of the road, an aircraft had landed in a field of dirt. Tyler wondered what kind of plane it was, and then had the thought that he wanted to learn more about flight. The road became more street-like, and a few houses and barns could be seen. A civilization appeared on the horizon, and they drove past a sign that read: POPULATION 16,225 - WELCOME TO POPLAR BLUFF.

They stopped at a red light, and then passed a library and a post office. A movie theater stood on one corner, and its rainbow-striped facade extended to the sky. The streets were heavy with traffic, and a few people tread the sidewalks. The car turned, and around the next bend a football field came into sight. Past acres of grass, there was an empty parking lot, and a gray-brick school in the distance. A massive sign lit up to say: POPLAR BLUFF HIGH SCHOOL... GO MULES!

Past another corner, the streets were lined with houses and trees. A couple of kids rode bikes down the sidewalk, and someone's sprinkler shot a cascade of water into the air. Tyler took a last swig of soda and found his phone. They arrived at a small yellow house, with a car in the driveway and pots of flowers in random spots all over the yard. 

"Well, here we are," his mom said, and his dad pulled in behind his grandmother's gray sedan. 

Tyler got out and stretched, and closed his eyes against the sun. The air down here smelled different - more natural and almost sweet. More like a field of corn, less like the collective pollution from thousands of cars. His mom and dad slammed their doors, and he followed them up the brick path. When they stepped onto the porch, his mom opened the door and called, "Mama? We're here!"

Tyler stepped inside, and breathed in the aura of "Grandmama's house." Cozy furniture surrounded the TV, and in one corner a fan turned on its pedastal. It blew a cold breeze throughout the room and reminded him that he'd be living without the luxury of air conditioning. Next to a framed Wizard of Oz poster, some of his baby pictures hung on the wall. A narrow staircase ascended past the ceiling, and an orange fluffball named Marigold dashed across the room and out of sight. 

His grandmother walked in from the kitchen. "Well, look at you."

"Look at me." 

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed. "Well you blink your eye and he's six foot tall." 

"Six-two, actually," his mom said, and they went into the kitchen.

The scent of coffee drifted from the stove, and the table was set with four plates and four mugs. "Oh Mama, these are too pretty to eat," his mom said, looking at a platter of baked confections. Tyler pulled out a chair and sat between his parents, and Marigold stepped silently into the room. She jumped into the last available chair, so his grandmother called her a little brat and sipped her coffee at the sink.

Tyler picked up a cookie and admired the yellow flower in its center. He took a bite and his mom said, "I guess Mike wants you there tomorrow."

"Mm-hmm."

"What time?" 

"Don't know." 

His grandma set down her mug. "Let me see," she said, and picked up her phone. Her thumb moved on its screen, and a minute later Tyler's ringtone sounded. He pulled it from his pocket and read: 

Be here at 7. The front will be locked so come around back. 

"He wants me there at seven."

"Well get to sleep early tonight," his mom said, and his dad asked, "What exactly are you going to be doing for him?"

"I don't know. Guess I'll have to wait and see."

While the conversation shifted to the details of his probation, Tyler finished his coffee and left the table. The kitchen door was open, and he stood in its frame, looking through the screen at the back yard. The elm tree's leaves were a dark summer green, and in the bird bath, a couple of robins splashed. Tomatoes grew in the garden, and a tall wooden fence surrounded the yard.

"I guess the officer's coming on Saturday."

"He'll have to check the whole house."

"I fixed up that room upstairs for you."

"Okay," Tyler said. He went back to the living room and stepped around the sofa. The stairs led to an opening in the ceiling, and he had to duck to step into the attic. The light was off, and two small windows let in the sun. The bed had been pushed against one wall, and draped with a homemade quilt. There was a dresser but no closet, and a rocking chair and a rug. 

He went back down to find his parents at the door. "I guess I'll get my stuff," he said, and stepped around them to the porch. He went to the car and got his duffle bag and his jacket and the stack of CDs. Back in the living room, he set everything on the couch, while his mom slung her purse from her shoulder. 

"Well," she said, "I guess we're off."

"Okay."

She hugged him and patted his back. "I'm going to miss you."

"Yeah," he said. "Me too." 

"And don't forget about Saturday." 

"I know." 

His parents stepped out the door, and Tyler watched them leave.