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As I got closer to the sliding doors, I tried to tell myself that this was just what had to happen. And that everything was fine. Because it was. I’d be home in more than enough time to get my car and get back home before my dad. Things were working out. This was what I wanted.
And yet.
And yet what? This was Didi, her voice unexpectedly gentle.
The doors to the station slid open, and I was hit with a wave of air-conditioning. But I only got two steps in before I stopped short. And before I could think about what I was doing, I turned around and walked back out into the parking lot.
Russell was leaning against the side of the car, and when I reached him he straightened up, his brow furrowed. “You okay? Did you forget something?”
“Not exactly. Kind of? I just…” I twisted my hands together, balancing on the precipice of my idea. Was I really going to do this? It was also a big ask.
The worst he can say is no, Didi pointed out.
“What?” Russell came a step closer, and tucked his sunglasses into the V of his button-down.
“Just… what if I didn’t get on the bus?”
“I thought you had to get home before your dad.”
“I do! But since you said it was your favorite—I guess I was wondering if maybe…”
“Maybe…?”
I took a breath and made myself ask. “Maybe instead, you wanted to take a road trip.”
Russell’s jaw dropped open. “Wait, what?”
IV Going Away to College
Friday 2:15 P.M.
I had planned on driving straight there—I was under a time crunch, after all. But that was before I saw it off the side of the highway, in bright red and yellow, a beacon of hope and secret sauce—the In-N-Out arrow.
I signaled to take the next exit, telling myself that I still had plenty of time, that I’d still make it with no problem, even though I knew I had been cutting it close to begin with, without burger stops. But I needed sustenance—it’s not like Nevada was just around the corner. And, true, I’d bought snacks when I’d stopped for gas, but that was before I’d seen the In-N-Out sign and my priorities had shifted.
Normally at In-N-Out, I’d go in and order at the counter, since the drive-thru line was usually insanely long. My dad and I always felt very smug as we’d leave with our white delicious-smelling bags, and see the people in the drive-thru line who still hadn’t moved. But right now, at this particular In-N-Out—it was one I’d never been to before—there was almost no line at the drive-thru, so I swung in. I pulled to a stop behind a minivan with a stick-figure family marching across the back windshield. Even with my windows closed, I could hear the Mariah Carey blasting from their car.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder, and I saw the text pop up on my screen. Everything okay?—R. I shifted the car into park and texted back. All good! Then a second later, I added I MIGHT have stopped at In-N-Out but still okay on time. A second later, the response popped up. Bring me some? I laughed as I texted back. I really don’t think it’ll keep. I was searching for the green-faced barfing emoji when my phone rang. I smiled at the contact and pressed the button on the screen to answer it.
“Hey, Didi.”
“Darce! Finally. Katy’s here too.”
“She is?”
“Hi hi hi,” Katy said through the phone, her words tumbling out quickly. “I’m here! We’re both here. Where are you?”
“I’m driving,” I said, shifting into drive to pull up a few feet. The people in the Mariah Carey–loving minivan in front of me—it sounded like they were playing the song again, clearly trying to get as much use out of it while they still could—were giving their order to the In-N-Out employee with her tablet. “I’m not stopped or anything.”
“That’s a weird thing to say,” Didi said, and even through the phone, I could practically hear her raising her eyebrow.
“Hi, welcome to In-N-Out!” The girl with her tablet hadn’t waited for me to get to her—she’d come to me. And totally blown my cover.
“Traitor!” Didi hissed through the screen loud enough that the In-N-Out employee took a concerned step back. “Bastard traitor!”
“One sec.” I muted the call, then gave her my order—Double-Double extra toast, extra sauce, fries well, Neapolitan shake.
“Great,” she said, punching it in. “Got it. Pull up to the first window to pay.”
