She should have protested. Sleeping in the same car as a boy.
But when she thought of him, she didn’t think of him as a boy—not exactly. Boys were terrifying in the abstract, all long legs and too-loud shouting and boisterous energy. They were lewd comments and creatures that cowered before the high-heeled terror of self-assured girls like Gremma. Boys were things to be avoided until she was leaner, more confident, until she had actually managed to put together a wardrobe and a life.
When she thought of James, she thought of long fingers smudged gray with charcoal, of notebooks with torn pages, of the way he rolled his jeans up when he stepped into river water, of the pale freckled tops of his feet. She thought of him looking into her eyes and telling her,I chose this, and somehow making her feel in control again.
She trusted him.
It was an odd little realization, in the midst of what was most likely a mental breakdown. She trusted him when she didn’t even trust herself.
Dee listened to the sound of his breathing. She couldn’t see him in the pitch-black, but the occasional whispers of clothing and breath were enough to lull her to sleep.
She woke the next morning, her left arm folded beneath her. She tried to shake off the numbness, sitting up and peering around the car. The sky was light now, white with that predawn glow. James was already sitting up, looking alert but rumpled.
“Where are we?” she said, struggling out from under the blanket. She stepped out of the car in her bare feet, carefully picking her way across the pavement. James had parked on an overlook. There was one other car, a red VW bus with bright yellow curtains.
“Interstate 84,” said James. “No idea how far we went, though.”
She’d read once that the Columbia River Gorge had spent millions of years being carved out by water and wind. But those descriptions didn’t do it justice. Sheer cliff faces rose all around her, the yellow rocks dappled with deep shadows. On her left was a craggy bluff. The wind had scoured away most of the greenery, leaving behind only a few rugged shrubs and bushes. On her right, ancient train tracks stood between her and the wide expanse of the Columbia River. Across the wide river was a sheer, yellow face of naked rock. She felt impossibly small, insignificant next to the towering peaks of raw stone.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
James came to stand next to her. Already, the wind had picked up and his tousled hair was dragged across his eyes. “You never came here before?”
“Not really,” said Dee. “Not a whole lot of family vacations at my house.”
She spoke thoughtlessly, unprepared for how the words would hurt. James knew. Heknew. Not even Gremma knew. Dee had tucked away her home life, shoved it far out of sight and mind, hoped that no one would ever see it.
But James didn’t rise to the bait. He dug into his jeans, came up with the car keys, and offered them to her. “You want to drive?”
They continued east.
James pointed out a small town and she swerved onto an off-ramp, drawn in by the logo of a fast-food joint. They didn’t bother to go inside—a drive-through breakfast was good enough. Dee found herself holding the steering wheel with one hand and using the other to balance an egg-white sandwich. James tried to order a milk shake, but Dee put her foot down, getting orange juice and plenty of coffee. James ate pancakes out of a Styrofoam box, plastic fork in hand. The food was too oily and salty, and the coffee was so sharp it made Dee’s teeth hurt. But the discomfort was the best kind—she sipped the horrible coffee and felt more alive than she had in months.
They returned to the interstate. Driving along I-84 left little room for conversation. The road had sweeping heights and dangerous curves, and they were nearly always in sight of the river. James sat with his feet on the dashboard, his window slightly cracked.
At one point, Dee’s phone buzzed.
why did you miss school, came Gremma’s text.
“Text back,” said Dee. “Just say road trip.”
“Your roommate won’t rat you out?” asked James.
Dee snorted and waited for Gremma’s reply. Sure enough, it said:
WITHOUT ME, YOU BITCH?
“Gremma encourages bad behavior,” said Dee simply. “It means she has more company.”
James laughed. “I like her.”
“Don’t get ideas. First off, she doesn’t do boys. Second, she would swallow you whole and hack up your bones like an owl.” A pause. “Then again, you might go for that kind of thing.”
James’s grin widened. “Why do you assume I’d go for the scary girls?”
“Because you sold your heart to a demon.”
“Fair point.”
