“If you want to go out to eat, I recommend the Distillery,” the clerk says. She swipes Jace’s card and gives us a smile. “It’s right around the corner and it’s delicious.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Jace signs the receipt Mia gives him, then goes outside to park the car and bring Hector in. I wait in the lobby with our bags.
When he comes back, we walk through the bar area and down the hall toward our rooms in silence. Even Hector seems subdued, trotting along next to Jace compliantly, not even noticing the other hotel guests smiling at him and remarking to each other about how cute he is.
“Well,” I say as I slide my key card into the door of my room. It beeps and blinks with a little green light. “Um, I guess I’ll see you in the morning? And I’ll, uh, I’ll pay you back for the room then.”
“Yeah,” he says, sliding his card into the keypad of the room across the hall. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
He disappears through the door, and I stand there for a second, already missing him. Finally I shake my head to clear my thoughts, and then walk into my room.
Saturday June 26, 7:45 p.m.
Savannah, Georgia
I wasn’t that mad at Peyton for crashing my car. I swear to God, I wasn’t. Shit, it could just as easily have been me. I’ve been in a couple of fender benders since I got my license, and it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. I mean, what does it really matter? No one got hurt. And my insurance is going to cover the whole thing anyway, so it’s not like it’s going to be expensive.
So no, I wasn’t mad at Peyton. I was mad at myself.
Because when she slammed into that car behind us, I realized something. I didn’t want to call off the trip. She crashed my car, she’d been being kind of bratty to me, I was probably going to miss my stupid graduation because of her, and still I didn’t want to call off the trip.
And when I thought about it, the only reason I could think of for how that could be was because I wanted to be with Peyton. I wanted to stay with her. Peyton, who acts like she can’t stand me, who acts like she doesn’t want anything to do with me, who got into an accident with my car that is probably going to cause my insurance rates to go through the roof, and I wanted to stay with her. What the hell is wrong with me?
This is what’s going through my head as I lie on my bed in the hotel room in Savannah. Finally, I can’t take it anymore, and so I hook Hector’s leash on and take him outside.
There’s a field across the street from the hotel, and I walk Hector over and onto the grass. It must have been raining in Savannah earlier, because the grass is wet, and within a couple of minutes Hector’s paws are a completely muddy mess.
I say a silent prayer of thanks that the hotel room I’m staying in has two beds. Maybe I can towel him off just enough so that he’s not dripping, and then put him in the bed next to me. It’s just dirt, right? It’s not like it won’t come off in the wash. Of course, the sheets are bright white, so . . .
My phone rings, and I sigh and reach into my pocket. It’s definitely going to be my mom. Every time she’s called, I’ve sent it right to voice mail, knowing that she’s going to be bothering me about how I need to get home in time for graduation. I don’t understand why stupid graduation means so much to her. Whether I’m there to give a big speech or not doesn’t change the fact that I’m valedictorian.
But it’s not my mom calling. It’s a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?” I try to balance my phone against my shoulder as I grip Hector’s leash with two hands. There’s a leaf floating by, and apparently this is a big concern to him. So big that he feels the need to chase it, practically pulling my arm out of its socket in the process.
“Jace!” a girl’s voice says. “Thank God! We thought you were dead!”
“Who thought I was dead?”
“I don’t know,” she says. There’s a pause. “Actually, I guess only your mom thought that. I pretty much knew you weren’t dead.”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Courtney!”
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t recognize the number.”
“I’m calling from Jordan’s phone.” She lowers her voice. “Listen, I don’t know where you are or what you’re up to, but your mom’s really worried. She says you have graduation tomorrow night, and she hasn’t been able to get in touch with you. She’s about thirty seconds away from calling the police.”
“I know she hasn’t been able to get in touch with me,” I say. “I’ve been sending her calls to voice mail.” I pause, waiting for Courtney to tell me that wasn’t a very nice thing to do. But she doesn’t. “And anyway, I told her I wasn’t going to graduation. So I don’t know why she’s freaking out.”
“Okay.” Courtney’s silent for a minute. I watch as Hector sniffs around, pawing things and eating grass. “So what do you want me to tell her if she calls?”
“She’s calling you?”
“Well, yeah,” she says. “She’s worried about you, and she thought that maybe you’d come to hang out with me and my friends.”
“Why would she think that?” I ask. “I told her I was—” I shake my head in frustration. “Actually, never mind. Just tell her that I’m safe, okay? And that I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay.” There’s a silence again. “Jace?” she asks finally.
“Yeah?”
“Are you with Peyton?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to lie, but on the other hand, I don’t want Courtney telling my mom any details, either. The less my mom knows, the better. Which is exactly why I’m not taking her calls. “Is this off the record?”
“Off the record?”
“Yeah, like are you going to tell my mom what I’m telling you?”
“No,” she says. “I’ll tell her you’re safe and that you’ll be home soon, but that’s it.”
“Then yes, I’m with Peyton.”
“That’s what I thought,” she says. And I’m pretty sure I can hear a smile in her voice.
• • •
I walk Hector around for another half an hour or so, figuring it’s probably a good idea to tire him out before I take him back to the room. I feel bad that he’s been cooped up in the car all day. Not that he seems to be holding it against me. In fact, just the opposite. He seems totally happy, wagging his tail and trying to meet everybody that walks by.
We have to cross over the grass to get back to the hotel, and so by the time we get to the sidewalk in front of the building, his paws are leaving muddy prints all over the pavement. There’s no way I’m going to be able to just towel him off. And if he jumps on the bed like this, it’s going to be mess.
It’s wishful thinking to expect I can keep him on the floor. Last night at the hotel in Siesta Key he jumped right up on the bed as soon as the lights went out and then nosed his snout under my pillow. Don’t ask me why he thought that would be a comfortable position, or why he turned over sometime in the night and slept on his back. Dogs are just weird.
“I really, really don’t want to give you a bath,” I say to Hector as I slide my key card into the gate that separates the hotel from the sidewalk. “But it looks like that’s what’s going to have to happen. Do you like the water, Hector?”
He wags his tail and looks at me happily, but I’ll bet once he gets into the water, it’s going to be a big debacle. Maybe I should just keep him dirty. At least I know what kind of dirt I’m dealing with. I’ll just make sure to leave a big tip so that the housekeepers won’t—
“Ahhh!” Peyton screams. She’s on the other side of the gate, trying to pull it toward her at the same time I’m trying to pull it toward me.
“Oh,” she says once she walks through and sees that it’s me. “Hi.”
“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.
She shrugs. “Just going for a walk. I was going to see if there was a gas station or something where I could grab something to eat.”
“Why would you want to eat gas station f
ood?” But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize the reason. She’s broke. Which explains why she bought those chips and waters at the rest stop, instead of going for something more substantial.
“What the hell happened to him?” she asks, looking down at Hector and ignoring my question about the gas station food. “He looks like a big muddy mess.”
“Nothing happened to him,” I say, suddenly defensive. I pull Hector’s leash back a little bit, so that he’s closer to me. “We were just going for a walk. Dogs get dirty on walks sometimes, Peyton.” I roll my eyes like she doesn’t know anything about dogs.
“Yeah, but he’s reeeally dirty.” She kneels down on the sidewalk, and Hector puts his front paws on her knees and licks her face. “What’d you do, let him walk through mud puddles?”
“No.” Yes. “Anyway, I have to go give him a bath.”
“A bath?”
“Yes, a bath. Dogs have baths, Peyton, when they’re dirty.”
She stands up and grins at me. “No, I know that. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“By what?”
“By the fact that you’re going to give him a bath.”
“Why?” I’m somehow insulted.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “It just doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you would do.”
“Well, I’m going to.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
We stand there, looking at each other for a moment.
“Well,” she says finally. “Um, let me know if you need any help.”
“I won’t.”
“Well, if you do—”
“If I do, I’ll let you know. But I’m pretty sure I won’t.”
“Okay. Well, see you tomorrow.” She pushes past me through the gate, and even though I’m so annoyed at her, even though I can’t stand the fact that she’s acting like I’m so incompetent that I can’t even give a dog a bath, I have to resist the urge to reach out and pull her toward me.
I shake my head and pull Hector through the gate and down the hall toward our room. This time, as we pass other hotel guests, they wrinkle up their noses and look at Hector like he’s disgusting. Which I guess he kind of is, but really. You’d think people would be a little nicer.
He’ll be fine after he has a bath. A bath that I can handle on my own, thank you very much. A bath that I definitely won’t be needing Peyton’s help with.
Saturday, June 26, 8:17 p.m.
Savannah, Georgia
The gas station in Savannah is surprisingly well-stocked and surprisingly cheap. I don’t know if it’s Southern pricing or what, but I was able to get Oreos, a Diet Coke, two bags of chips, and some nacho cheese Combos for only six dollars. Six dollars! What a score.
It was so cheap that at first I thought maybe it was one of those things where the food is about to go bad, and so everything’s marked down. But I checked the expiration dates, and they weren’t even close. So yay for nonperishable Southern snacks!
I walk quickly back to the hotel, munching on a bag of chips as I go. It’s a nice walk—it’s still a little light out, and the Georgia air is warm and slightly humid against my skin. I decide to take the long way around the building, and go through the front lobby of the hotel instead of the side gate. For the first time in a few days, I start to feel happy. It’s all going to work out, I tell myself as I walk through the automatic doors. It’s going to be fine.
The girl at the front desk, Mia, has her iPod on, and she’s dancing to whatever song she’s listening to as she enters something into the computer. She smiles and gives me a little wave.
“How’s your room?” she asks.
“It’s great!” I tell her. “Thanks.”
She smiles, revealing the gap between her front teeth. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will.”
Everyone here is so friendly and relaxed! There are people sitting at the bar as I pass by to my room, and they’re laughing and joking around with each other. One of the women gives me a little wave as I go by, and I wave back. I guess this is what people mean when they talk about Southern hospitality. I wonder if this is how it’s going to be in North Carolina, too.
I hope so. I could totally get used to it.
I push open the door to my room and dump my snacks on the bed. I decide to have a nice long hot shower, then watch Jersey Shore reruns or something equally mindless while I eat.
I grab a pair of fleece pants and a tank top out of my suitcase, bring them into the bathroom with me, undress, and then turn the shower on full blast. I push it as hot as I can stand it, letting the water wash the stress off me as the stream beads down over my body. I stay in there for a long time, and when I finally turn the water off, I feel relaxed and loose.
And honestly, when you really think about it, why shouldn’t I be? I’m only one day away from being in North Carolina, only one day away from having my own apartment, only one day away from starting my new life. Who cares what other people are going to think or say? Who cares if I’m making a big mistake? People probably told Bill Gates he was making a big mistake when he dropped out of college. Same with Mark Zuckerberg. Of course, those guys were tech geniuses, and were actually working on something that they were going to bring to market. Or whatever you call it when you make a new product.
But maybe I could bring something to market. One time at the ninth-grade bake sale I made these amazing brownies because I messed up the recipe on the back of the chocolate chip bag. People were raving about them all day. I could open a brownie shop. And then expand into cookies and cakes. I’ve always wanted to learn how to make cookies and cakes in the shape of things, like on those shows where they build pastries up to look like people or cartoon characters. I could totally do that.
I’m so cheered by my new life as a retail and/or Internet entrepreneur, that I’m humming a little tune to myself as I get out of the shower and get dressed.
I’m just about to turn the TV on when there’s a knock on my door. I ignore it, figuring it’s probably housekeeping or maybe that nice girl from the front desk, coming to set a chocolate on my pillow or something. They probably do things like that in the South.
I rip open my bag of Combos, and pop one in my mouth.
The knock comes again. Geez. These Southern people might need to learn that being friendly is only friendly when the other person actually wants it.
“Peyton?”
Oh. It’s Jace. Well, that explains it. He’s definitely not going to be practicing Southern hospitality. He’s lucky if he even practices Northern hospitality.
I creep to the door and peer out the peephole. He’s standing there in a white T-shirt and a pair of dark green track pants. His hair is all messed up, and there’s a big smear of dirt on the front of his shirt.
Hector is standing next to him, wagging his tail.
“PEYTON!” Jace says, and knocks again. “Are you in there?”
I sigh and unlock the door. “Of course I’m in here,” I say. “Where else would I be?”
“I’ve been trying to call your room for the past forty-five minutes,” he says. “Why didn’t you answer?”
He peers past me into the room, all suspicious, like he half expects that I’m going to be throwing a party or entertaining a gentleman caller or something.
“I was at the gas station, remember?”
“For an hour?”
“No,” I say, even though I was probably there for longer that I should have been, picking out my snacks. There were just so many to choose from. “Not for an hour. But then I was in the shower.” I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly realizing that all I’m wearing is a thin tank top.
“Well, can you help me?” Jace asks.
“Jace,” I say seriously. “I think you’re beyond help.” I think it’s a pretty funny joke, honestly, but Jace doesn’t seem to agree.
“Ha ha,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But seriously, I need help with Hector. He won’t li
sten.”
“What else is new?” I look down at Hector and give him a fond smile, because honestly, how can I not love a creature that is giving Jace a hard time and not listening to him? And that’s when I realize that Hector is now an even bigger mess than he was when I saw him outside after his walk.
Now not only is he covered in mud, but the mud seems to have been diluted by water and soap. It’s dripping off his fur into dirty, gritty puddles that are collecting on the wood floor of the hallway.
“What happened to him?” I wrinkle my nose. “He’s all soapy and dirty.” I didn’t even know you could be both soapy and dirty at the same time.
“I was giving him a bath,” Jace says. “And he wouldn’t sit still. Every time I would try to rinse him off, he would jump out of the tub.”
“He jumped out of the tub like that?”
“Yeah, and ran all around my room making it a disgusting mess.”
I bite back a laugh.
“It’s not funny!” Jace says.
“You’re right,” I say, nodding mock seriously. “It isn’t.”
Jace sighs. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“I thought you didn’t need my help.” I give him a challenging look.
He gives me one right back. “We all need a little help now and then, don’t we Peyton?” I know he’s talking about the fact that I needed him to drive me to North Carolina. Or, as far as he knows, Connecticut. I hate that he’s bringing that up. But he does have a point.
“Whatever,” I say, holding the door to my room open. “Come on in.”
• • •
Okay, so giving Hector a bath with Jace was actually kind of fun. Once we let go of the idea that there was any chance that we, Hector, or the bathroom were going to stay clean, and just took it for what it was—a big, disgusting mess—it went a lot more smoothly.
“You hold him while I rinse him, okay?” I tell Jace.
“Okay,” Jace says. Hector is in the tub, just standing there, looking at us like we’re crazy. He doesn’t seem to mind the water, but you never know when he’s going to get excited and want to play or cause mischief.
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