She Dims the Stars(12)

I lean back and cross my arms behind my head, looking up at the ceiling as I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “You should go anyway. I don’t have anything to do over break. I can go with you.”

I have no idea how my twin size bed withstands the weight as she jumps on me from across the room and makes me say five times in a row that I mean it.





How exactly does one go about packing for a trip that could change the course of her life? I’m standing in my room, staring blankly at the empty bag on my bed, distracted by the blue constellation print of my comforter beneath it. I can close my eyes and know where every single thing in this place is. Yellow desk under the window; sheer curtains open and blinds pulled shut. Laptop, last semester’s text books waiting to be sold, old papers and pencils all on the left-hand side. The right side remains clear. Silver desk chair pushed in until the metal touches the wood.

Nightstand to the right of the bed with one charger, a small lamp, and a place to take my jewelry off at night. One dresser behind me with a television. Small closet that holds just enough clothes to get me through the semester, because the other half of it is where I have shoved a bookcase full of fiction.

I open my eyes and idly wonder if I should bring something to read. It’s a six hour drive to Elliot’s house where we’ll be getting his camping gear for the remainder of the trip. Another eight hours to Grandma Ruth’s. The plan is wide open from there, and it makes my skin itch to not have some semblance of order to follow. I need order.

The thoughts of what could potentially go wrong start to gather in my head, and I can feel my jaw start to tense, so I close my eyes again and breathe in and out as deeply as I can in counts of seven.

It takes a few minutes, but I get a handle on it, and my heart rate slows enough for me to focus and silently begin to fill my bag with things I need to take with me. Not the least of which is a flower-printed bag full of orange bottles.



Elliot has an Xterra, and for some reason, that is unexpected. “You go off-roading a lot?” I ask, shifting my bag from one shoulder to the other as he checks the tire pressure on the front driver’s side wheel.

He looks up and squints at me, one eye smaller than the other as his tongue peeks out between his lips. “No. Why?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I push up on my toes and chance a peek inside to see if his car is as dirty as his room. It’s not, and that, too, is surprising.

He stands and straightens his t-shirt, the material getting caught on his broad shoulders. “I cleaned it. Vacuumed and whatnot. Thought you wouldn’t want to ride for that long with Taco Bell wrappers under your feet.”

I pretend to swoon, pressing my hands to my chest. “And in that moment, I swear I fell in love with you, Elliot.”

He tosses the pressure gauge in the air and catches it before giving me a dirty look. “A thank you would have worked just fine, smart ass.”

“Thank you,” I concede.

Suddenly, the door to their apartment is thrown wide open, and Cline, in all his disheveled glory, lumbers onto the sidewalk, half dressed and pissed off. Hazel eyes are barely visible as he stares us down, pointing a thick arm and long finger at Elliot. “Where the hell are you going?”

Elliot straightens his shoulders and faces his best friend, his neck tilted a little as they come toe to toe. Cline’s extra two inches barely make a difference when Elliot mans up. Witnessing this makes something in my stomach flutter.

“I’m taking Audrey to North Carolina to her grandmother’s house to see if she can get info on her mom.”

Cline’s eyes go wide, and his head snaps in my direction. “Granny Ruth? The psycho? She won’t even let you near her house. How are you supposed to even—“ He puts both hands up and gives a sarcastic frown. “You know what? I told myself that this was none of my business. I did. I said, ‘Cline, man, this is none of your business.’ But now you’ve roped my roommate into driving you, like, twenty hours to go see someone who won’t even speak to you.” He bounces a little on the word ‘speak,’ pulling his fists against his chest as his voice rises. “So now it’s my business. She’s using you, dude. Just like she does with everybody else.”

“It’s fourteen hours from Tennessee to North Carolina, actually,” I correct him.

“And I volunteered.” Elliot pushes the pressure gauge into his pocket and crosses his arms like that should be it. Final. Over.

But I know better.

Cline bends forward at the waist, his arms crossed and knees bent again before he stands up straight and yells, “Oh! You volunteered. A fourteen hour drive. Okay. That’s makes it okay. Got it. Well, wait right here while I go get my shit because I’m coming, too.”

I think, deep down, deep, deep down somewhere in my subconscious, I knew this was going to happen. It is why I’m not even the slightest bit surprised by the outburst. I’m actually quite amused.

As calmly as I can, I move to the rear of the vehicle and open the back door so I can slide my bag inside. Peeking around the side of the car, I make a “shoo” motion with my hand.

“Hurry up, then. We haven’t got all day. We’re wasting daylight.”

Cline’s anger is apparent in the flare of his nostrils. “I’m seriously coming.”

“I seriously don’t care.”