He Started It(52)

I pick up my phone, which is facedown on the nightstand, right as it’s supposed to be. I haven’t found it faceup since that one time. I also haven’t gone on another morning walk with Felix.

Coincidence? Perhaps.

Still no text from Krista. She hasn’t responded to me at all.

No interesting e-mails. Nothing new from him on Instagram. I check the news, which I haven’t looked at in days. Being on a road trip is like being in limbo, sort of like flying before they added Wi-Fi. I read about a celebrity wedding, hoping it will put me to sleep, when I hear the bass.

The music. Same song, same volume, I recognize all of it. The sound is faint but getting closer.

That damn song.

I get up and stand near the window so I can see the car. Since whoever it is seems determined to wake everyone up, I feel obligated to see who it is.

Yes, I do want to see if it’s the black pickup.

Yes, Felix is still asleep.

The headlights come first, along with the thumping music and rattling windows. Only when the car turns and drives through the motel, not into it, do I see the car.

It makes me gasp.

Not a truck or a sports car or a sedan. The car blasting that music is at least twenty years old, with dulled paint and no license plate. A minivan.

Exactly like the one Grandpa had on the last trip.

I rush out, not even bothering to put on shoes, and flinging the door open so hard it bounces back at me. I see the back of the van as it drives out of the parking lot.

I’m not the only one.

Portia has come out of her room, also barefoot, and she looks like she just woke up. “Did you see that car?” she says.

I nod.

Felix is finally awake. He comes up behind me, scaring me half to death when he says, “What happened?”

I glare at him. Now he wakes up.

The music fades into the background as the van drives farther away, and as it does, I hear the pounding of my own heart. “Twice,” I say to Portia. “It came through twice.”

“I know. I heard.”

“Is Eddie awake? He’s supposed to be watching tonight.”

She sticks her head back in the room. The light floods out when she turns it on. Pause. Her head pops back out. “He’s not here,” she says.

“What’s happening?” Felix says.

“You heard her,” I say. “Eddie isn’t in the room.”

“He’s right there.”

Felix points.

Eddie is across the parking lot, coming from around the back of the building. Dressed, with shoes on, at one o’clock in the morning. He stops when he sees us.

“What?” he says. “What happened?”

Felix throws up his hands. “That’s what I’ve been trying to find out.”

“Where were you?” I ask Eddie.

“Taking a walk around the motel, keeping watch.”

“Didn’t you hear that car?” Portia says.

Eddie shrugs. “What, that music? I heard it. The whole state probably heard it.”

I step closer so I can look at his eyes. “You didn’t see the car?”

Eddie is wearing his Duke baseball cap, but it doesn’t hide his blue eyes. The color is so strong, so clear, it looks fake.

“No.” He sounds offended, like he knows I’m accusing him of something but doesn’t know what. His eyes don’t move, his pupils neither contract nor dilate. “Why?”

I turn to look at Portia. She’s looks at Eddie, who’s staring at me. Everybody watching everybody, like a game of Risk.

We do not break eye contact until Felix speaks.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Nothing,” I say. “We aren’t doing anything.”

But what just happened is everything.



* * *



–––––

The van. Same color, same make, same age. Not the same van, though. It can’t be. Grandpa got rid of his the second the trip was over. It’s probably sitting in a junkyard by now.

The last time I was in Grandpa’s van was when we left the desert. It was late. We were all tired and dirty, and we all smelled like smoke.

When I close my eyes and imagine it, I can still feel the heat on my face. From the sun, yes. The desert sun is the strongest I’ve felt, like I was being baked in a pan under the broiler. Day in and day out, the desert will wear you down.

It wasn’t just the sun, though. On that day, the heat came from the fire.

Imagine a giant fireplace, then multiply it times a hundred. You can’t get too close unless you want to lose your eyebrows.

That was surprising enough, but even more surprising was the noise. Fires are loud. The cracking, the breaking, the sound of the flames being whipped up, the small and large explosions as everything that could burn did. I had to scream to be heard.





Do you ever wish you could read minds?

Obviously.

But being invisible would be so much better. Imagine how easy things would be if you could just disappear and reappear whenever you wanted. You wouldn’t have to spend so much time strategizing or building allies and doing everything step by step.

If I could be invisible, I’d know what everyone was saying about me behind my back. I’d know if they thought I was ugly or if my outfit sucked or something. And I’d know what Cooper is up to whenever we’re on one of our breaks. He says he doesn’t hook up with anyone else, but maybe he’s lying.