He Started It(26)

Example two, today at the museum.

Grandpa parked the van and we went in. It was another weirdo place just like all the other crappy, weirdo places Grandpa has brought us so far. This one was called the Devil’s Rope Museum. I mean, honestly.

I saw them first. It was that couple from yesterday, the same asshole and his angry wife, so I went and stood right next to them and waited for one of them to see me. The wife did. She looked over and her eyes got huge and she nudged her husband.

I admit I was a bitch, because who wouldn’t be? I said something like, “Oh looky here, it’s the asshole” and yeah, I had that tone. That’s what Mom calls it. That tone.

But damn if I was going to keep my mouth shut about that pervert. I just didn’t realize all hell would break loose the second I opened my mouth. The asshole said I needed to stop following him (as IF) and the wife said I was stalking them. I yelled back, their friends joined in with them, and the next thing I know the police show up.

Apparently they’re always close by in Texas. Someone at the desk dialed 911 and the police just appeared.

They blamed me for starting all the trouble. I MEAN ARE YOU SERIOUS, but yes, they were, and they kept saying “This is Texas” like it meant something. They questioned me, they questioned Grandpa, they even questioned Eddie and Beth, but at least they left Portia alone. Paranoid much, Texas?

After a billion questions and a bunch of calls to whoever was looking things up, yes I had to admit I’d run away several times. Yes, maybe I shoplifted some things and got caught, like 1% of the time, but no I wasn’t a stalker. I wasn’t dangerous. I pretended to be a dumb teenager because that’s what they already decided I was.

They also searched the minivan, I guess to make sure we weren’t secretly drug mules or something, and that’s when they found the gun. I didn’t even know Grandpa had one. I mean, sure it was legal and registered and all that, so of course the police let him keep it. But still, it would’ve been nice to know it was there. What if Portia found it? This van is so not childproof.





8 DAYS LEFT


Our breakfast feels like a meeting of the Five Families, except we’re just one family with a lot of opinions.

Krista: Call the police.

Eddie: Keep going. Ignore them.

Portia: Find the pickup, confront the people inside.

Felix: Establish a schedule for watching the car throughout the night. We don’t know what these people want or why they’re following us, so we should be vigilant.

They all turn to me and I keep eating my toast. It has the perfect amount of butter and raspberry jam—the first time that’s happened during this trip.

Eddie taps his index finger on the table. “We just need to get this trip over with,” he says. “Then we can all go on with our lives.”

Yes. I agree with that. My life will be a million times better after this trip.

“I’d rather not wake up dead one morning because of those psychos,” Krista says.

Neither would I, but yes, I get her point.

“Screw it,” Portia says. “We should put nails in their tire.”

Yes. That, too.

Felix shrugs. “I told you my idea. Make the schedule.”

He really likes schedules. We have dozens of them on our refrigerator at home.

“Well,” I finally say, “since we really are being followed and apparently sabotaged, then I guess we have to go with Felix’s idea. Let’s watch for them, and when we see them, we’ll decide what to do.”

Felix nods.

“Good,” Krista says.

“Fine with me,” Portia says.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“As long as we do call the police,” Krista says. “Like they say, we shouldn’t try to approach them on our own.”

The more Krista speaks, the more I dislike her.

“Fine. Perfect. Let’s just figure it out and get going,” I say.

Krista looks around at everyone, as if gauging the mood of the room. “Are we all good? Everyone okay?”

I stare at her, realizing maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe Eddie isn’t with her just because she’s so young and pretty. Maybe he’s also with her because she reminds him of our mother, because right then Krista sounded just like her.

Mom always had to make sure everyone was okay, including at all our family meals. That’s how I remember her: walking around the table, checking on each one of us, making sure we had what we needed. She always wore the same kind of perfume, and I always smelled it when she leaned down beside me. Before she would settle down and eat, she would say “Are we all good?” just like Krista did.

Even when Mom had big news to share, she had to make sure we were okay. And for Nikki, Eddie, and me, Portia was the biggest news of our lives so far. Mom and Dad sat us down in the dining room—the formal one—and right away Mom let us know we weren’t in trouble. Nikki visibly relaxed.

“We have great news,” Mom said. “I’m pregnant.”

That’s how she told us about Portia. I was six, Eddie was eight, and Nikki was almost twelve.

Eddie and I stared at Mom, unsure of what this news meant for us.

“Are you okay?” Mom said.

“Pregnant?” Nikki said. “You won’t even let me get a dog.”