Reunited

by Hilary Weisman Graham

  “In three hundred yards, turn left,” Coach Quigley boomed.

  “I wonder if this thing comes with a pirate voice.” Tiernan snatched the GPS from the dashboard. “Turn starboard at three hundred paces! Argh!”

  “We can’t change Coach Quigley!” Alice protested, tossing her travel-size hand sanitizer back into her bag. “It’d be sacrilege.”

  Alice pulled her cell phone out from underneath the passenger’s seat. She hadn’t looked at it once today, hadn’t even remembered to turn it on. Now she had six messages since last night—four from her parents and two from a number she didn’t recognize.

  “Oh my God!” Alice gasped.

  “What?” Tiernan turned to face her.

  “I think”—Alice hit home on her speed dial—“this might be good news.”

  If Alice were a season she’d definitely be fall—all eagerness and schedules and brand-new back-to-school clothes.

  Her mother answered on the third ring.

  “Did I get a letter from Brown?” Alice asked breathlessly.

  “What?” Her mom sounded confused. “Where are you? Didn’t you get my messages?”

  “No, I just turned my phone on. Why, is something wrong?” Her nervous excitement took a U-turn into just plain panic.

  “I’m fine and Dad is fine. We’ve been trying to get a hold of Tiernan.”

  “Mom, is—?”

  “Everyone’s okay,” her mother jumped in. “Except for the fact that we got a call from her mother at one a.m. last night asking if we’d seen her.”

  Alice looked up at Tiernan, who was still fiddling with the GPS.

  “Alice.” Her mother’s tone was serious. “Did you know Tiernan didn’t tell her mother she was going on the trip?”

  “No, I had no idea.”

  “Well, she needs to call home right now. Judy was beside herself with worry last night. Thank goodness she thought to call us.”

  “Okay, Mom.” Alice swallowed hard. “So, no letter from Brown?”

  “No,” said her mother sharply. “And I want you to call me back after Tiernan’s talked to her mother, all right?”

  “Okay,” Alice said before she hit end.

  Tiernan slipped off her shoes and put her bare feet up on the dash. If Tiernan was a season, it would be spring in New England—bitter cold one day, the next, a daffodil poking its head through the snow, and just when you thought winter was finally over, a blizzard would hit.

  “So, what’s the big news?”

  “Apparently, you are,” Alice said.

  Tiernan smirked. “I take it Judy’s called out a search party?”

  “Can you blame her? You just took off without telling anyone where you were going.”

  “Chillax, Judy Number Two.”

  “Why should I?” Alice was fuming. “At least you could have had the courtesy of telling me you were running away.”

  “You guys—” Summer tried to interrupt.

  “First of all,” Tiernan spat, “I don’t owe anyone an explanation of what I do or why.”

  “You don’t owe me anything—”

  “You guys!” Summer repeated, this time more forcefully. Alice looked at her, suddenly aware of the knocking sound coming from the engine. The van was barely moving as Summer pulled to the side of the road.

  “I think we’re out of gas.”

  “Well, so much for Lucky Kentucky,” Tiernan said.

  Alice could have kicked herself. First she’d forgotten to turn on her cell phone; now they’d run out of gas. Less than thirty-six hours on the road and she’d turned into a total flake.

  “What should we do?” Summer asked.

  “Well, we can’t stay in here,” Alice said. In this heat, the Pea Pod may as well have been an Easy-Bake Oven. Not that outside was much better.

  Alice paced by the side of the road, trying to think of a plan.

  “Look!” Tiernan said, holding up Coach Quigley. “According to this, there’s a gas station four point two miles from here.”

  “Four miles,” Alice whimpered. “There has to be something closer.” Between the heat, last night’s lack of sleep, and the backbreaking labor at Gert’s, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk another four feet.

  “Maybe there’s someone with a gallon of gas we can borrow,” Summer suggested, pulling her ponytail through her pink Red Sox baseball cap. “Didn’t we pass a house about a quarter mile back?”

  Tiernan grabbed a bottle of water from the van. “Okay, let’s go check it out.”

  “Actually . . .” Alice gave Tiernan an apologetic smile. “I think someone should stay with the Pea Pod.”

  Tiernan’s face went blank.

  “Plus, I told my mom you’d call home right away.”

  “Well, I don’t have a phone,” Tiernan whined. “My mom confiscated mine when I got grounded, and it wasn’t in any of her usual hiding spots.”

  Alice took her cell from her pocket and thrust it at Tiernan. Then she and Summer walked off, before Tiernan had a chance to argue.

  “It’s just rude!” Alice spat when they were finally out of earshot. “It’s like she’s using this trip as an excuse to run away from home.”

  “I just think it’s typical,” Summer said. “If Tiernan sees an opportunity, she takes it.”

  Alice was pissed off at Tiernan, but hearing Summer bad-mouth her wasn’t making it better. It was like bitching about your mother—you were allowed to do it, but somebody else trash-talking your mom? Not so much. The only reason Alice had invited Summer and Tiernan on this trip was because she’d assumed enough time had passed to erase any weird leftover tension. Obviously, just another one of her naive hopes.

  “I’m sorry this trip has been so crazy,” Alice said. “Especially with everything you’re going through.” She sneaked a quick glance at Summer, afraid she might have stumbled into a conversational no-fly zone.

  “I don’t know what I’m going through,” Summer said with a laugh.

  Summer never talked about her feelings much, even back when they’d been close. Alice remembered how people who didn’t know Summer very well often mistook her for being shallow. But that wasn’t the case. Summer was smart, perceptive, and ridiculously creative—she was just very careful about who she let in. Alice had always respected that about her. A lot of girls seemed to just spill their guts to whoever happened to be in earshot. But when Summer opened up, it actually meant something.

  Then, back in eighth grade, right around the same time boys started circling her like moths to a flame, Summer started to close that door. At least to Alice. It happened little by little, almost imperceptibly at first, until the night of the Winter Wonderland Dance when Summer slammed the door shut forever.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Summer said.

  They had turned off the road and were traipsing across the lawn now—no lights on in the house, no cars in the driveway.

  Alice knocked three times, but no one answered, so she moved on to the garage, standing on her tiptoes to peer in through the high windows. Normally, she wasn’t the type to trespass, but all they needed was one measly gallon of gas. And somebody had to be proactive if they were ever going to get back on the road.

  “Alice, what are you doing?” Summer asked.

  But Alice was too distracted by what she saw to answer. All the way in the back, wedged between a lawn mower and a dirt bike, was a shiny red gas can.

  “Summer, I see one!” she said excitedly.

  “So, what are we supposed to do? Break in and steal it?”

  “Not stealing. Just . . . borrowing. We could even leave them five bucks.”

  Summer chewed her lower lip. “And if the door is locked, we walk away?”

  “Of course.” Alice said, already tugging on the handle.

  The door was sticky, but it rose—its metallic springs knocking and clanging like some kind of homemade alarm system. Alice opened it just far enough to duck inside.

  It was cool in the g
arage, and a shiver raced up Alice’s spine—as much from the temperature drop as from the feeling of doing something illicit.

  “You should come in!” she shouted. “It’s so much cooler in here!”

  “Cool enough to get arrested for breaking and entering?” Summer asked.

  “Yes!” Alice shot back.

  Summer poked her head in to verify Alice’s claim. The rest of her quickly followed. For a moment they just stood there, enjoying the cold musty air and the exhilaration of being someplace they didn’t belong.

  “Boys live here,” Summer pronounced, pointing her chin toward a messy pile of lacrosse sticks and baseball bats.

  It was a simple observation. Still, it was a level of noticing that always made Alice feel like a child next to Summer. Like it would take her years to understand all the things Summer already knew. Back in high school, Alice had watched Summer walk down the halls with at least a dozen different boys by her side. Meanwhile, Alice had never even dated anyone, unless she counted the slobbery make-out sessions she’d had behind the arts and crafts shed at camp with that kid Derek. Which she didn’t.

  “We should probably hurry, right?” Summer asked. The nice way of saying, Snap out of it and move, girl.

  The garage floor was so cluttered Alice had to choose each step deliberately—careful not to slip on a stray golf ball, to avoid the booby trap of the perilously balanced bicycles.

  “I feel like Indiana Jones,” she called to Summer, just as her foot hit a soccer ball and sent it careening into a metal toolbox.

  “Holy crap!” Summer gasped.

  “Sorry,” Alice said as she reached down and grabbed the gas can. Then she turned around and headed back across the clutter, the sound of the thin liquid sloshing through the can’s open nozzle.

  She was glad Summer was here for this little adventure. There was something bonding about the clandestineness of it all, as if the strangeness of their surroundings overshadowed the strangeness between the two of them.

  Alice was almost back at the door when it flew up with such a terrifying thunder it made Summer scream.

  First she saw Tiernan, her face bleached white with sunshine. Then a familiar blond-haired boy stepped out from behind her, his bright yellow T-shirt soaked through with sweat.

  Finn nodded at Alice, then turned to Summer and shot her his trademark smile. “So, should I call the police, or does this mean y’all are taking me up on my invitation?”

  “JACKIE NEEDS NEW GLASSES”

  WE’LL LEAVE OUR GLASSES

  ON THE NIGHTSTAND,

  AND SEE EACH OTHER

  AS WE TRULY ARE

  AS I RELEARN LOVE

  THROUGH YOUR EYES

  WHILE YOU RELEARN IT

  THROUGH MINE.

  —from Level3’s self-titled first CD

  Chapter Thirteen

  “STOP IT!” SUMMER SQUEALED AS FINN WRENCHED THE SUPER Soaker from her hands.

  They’d been chasing each other around the shallow end of the pool for the last fifteen minutes—part water-gun battle, part lame excuse for groping each other’s half-naked bodies.

  “You are so dead!” Summer shrieked as Finn pelted water at the small of her back.

  Alice figured she’d give Summer another ten minutes to satisfy her flirtation fix, then they’d head back on the road again. She hadn’t wanted to delay their trip any further, but with the van now parked safely in Finn’s driveway, Alice couldn’t exactly use the excuse about not having their bathing suits. Plus, after walking back down that hot dusty road to gas up the Pea Pod, she’d actually been dying for a quick dip.

  Alice sidestroked her way to the deep end just as Tiernan sprung off the diving board and did a midair somersault—a double somersault? No. Her legs hit the water with a slap.

  “Well?” Tiernan asked when she’d surfaced.

  “I’d give it an eight point two,” Alice said. “You were close. Close-ish.” Finn’s swimming pool had cooled them off in more ways than one. Not that Alice ever stayed mad for very long.

  She pushed herself off the edge and headed back toward the shallow end, thankfully empty since Summer and Finn’s flirtation had evolved onto land. Finn still held the water gun, but now Summer had the garden hose, and she was merciless. Finn tried to dodge it, zigging and zagging across the lawn, then finally ducking behind the edge of the house to get out of range. Just then a boy on a bike came riding past him into the backyard, right in the line of fire.

  “What the—?” The boy tried to veer away from the spray and fell off his bike.

  Summer released the nozzle. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Finn said. “It’s just my little brother, Quentin. Say hello to the ladies, Q-Tip.”

  “Hello, ladies,” said Quentin.

  With his tall, bony body, wire-rimmed glasses, and sardonic smile, Quentin didn’t look anything like Finn. In the bike helmet, the effect was that of a human lollipop. And even though Finn had referred to him as his younger brother, there was something about Quentin’s eyes that made him seem older.

  “Where’d the sirens come from?” Quentin asked. He was staring right at Alice.

  “What?” asked Finn.

  Alice laughed. “Sirens, like in Homer’s Odyssey,” she explained, letting her gaze flicker across Quentin’s before it made its way to Finn. “They sang to the sailors, drawing them in to shore with their voices.”

  “And making them shipwreck on the rocks,” Quentin added with a grin.

  “Tra-la-la-la!” Tiernan trilled, purposefully off-key. Then she hurled herself into the water like a wounded sailor.

  Everyone but Quentin watched Tiernan’s display. His eyes stayed on Alice. Suddenly she could feel the air on every inch of her bare skin, which was a lot, considering how she was just standing there in her bathing suit in knee-deep water with her blobby white thighs totally exposed. She did a quick dolphin dive into the deep end, hoping that the wedgie from her bathing suit had flashed by too quickly for anyone to notice. She swam underwater until her fingertips scraped against the concrete wall at the deep end. When she surfaced, Quentin was gone.

  “Well, we should probably get going if we want to make it to Lexington before dark,” Alice announced.

  “Fine by me,” Tiernan said.

  Summer positioned herself on a float. “Ten more minutes?” she pleaded as Finn dragged her along by the ankles.

  Alice was about to rattle off her list of reasons why it was important that they leave Right At This Very Moment when the back door of the house flung open, revealing Quentin—helmet- and glasses-free—wearing nothing but neon-green swim trunks. His floppy brown hair fell in his eyes, and his chest was lean, but muscular. He’d looked skinnier in clothes.

  Quentin gave Alice a quick wink, then took off for the pool full tilt, sailing diagonally across the water, arms hugging his knees, heading straight for her. Too shocked to even think to swim away, Alice just stood where she was as Quentin’s cannonball detonated two inches away, soaking her with its enormous splash.

  She stared quizzically at Quentin as he surfaced, and Quentin stared right back at her, with a shameless self-satisfied grin. “Y’all are staying for dinner, right?”

  “We thank thee, Lord, for happy hearts, for rain and sunny weather. We thank thee, Lord, for this food, and that we are together.”

  Alice wasn’t a religious person, but she knew enough to recognize an unholy thought when it hit her. And when Quentin had taken his hand in hers for grace, boy, had it hit her. It was nothing like the feeling she’d had with Phred—his heavy arm weighing on her shoulder like a sandbag. Quentin’s hand seemed to melt into hers in a way that made her whole body tingle.

  “And we are also thankful to have you girls here with us tonight,” Quentin’s mother said. Mrs. Oldham was built like a pintsized linebacker—broad shoulders like Finn, huge boobs, thin, almost spindly legs. Her hair was frosted blond, and she wore large gold hoop earrings and a matc
hing gold cross around her neck.

  Mr. Oldham was an older, beer-bellied version of Quentin. He smiled kindly at the girls. “Well, with what y’all have been through, somebody ’round here needed to show you some Southern hospitality.”

  “Amen to that,” Quentin said, giving Alice’s hand an extra little squeeze. Then grace was officially over and, much to Alice’s distress, Quentin wiggled his hand from hers. Good Lord! Doesn’t anyone at this table have something else to be thankful for?

  “Quey-yahn-tin!” Mrs. Oldham’s Kentucky accent was as thick as the barbecue sauce Quentin licked off his fingers. “Use some manners, please. We have ladies around.”

  “Sorry, Mama.” Quentin sheepishly wiped his hand on his napkin.

  Mr. Oldham laughed. “I think my wife likes havin’ you girls around as much as the boys do, what with bein’ the only female in the house.”

  Mrs. Oldham threw her hands up in the air dramatically. “Sometimes I just go out of my mind with all this male energy around.”

  You can say that again, Alice thought. Twice since grace, Quentin’s thigh had brushed against hers and it still felt electric.

  “I just think y’all should stay here for the night,” Mrs. Oldham continued as Quentin’s knee bumped hers again—accidentally? “I’m sure your mothers wouldn’t want you driving into some strange city after dark.”

  “We really need to make some more miles tonight,” Tiernan said apologetically.

  Alice shot Tiernan a look. If her leg wasn’t already preoccupied, she might have kicked her. “We could just make it up tomorrow,” Alice quickly added. “I mean, it’s only a hundred miles, right?”

  “Whatever.” Tiernan smirked back at her. “Your call, boss.”

  “Well, we don’t want to be an imposition,” Alice said to Mrs. Oldham.

  “No imposition at all.” Mrs. Oldham smiled. “Guest room’s already got clean sheets.”

  After dinner, Alice and Quentin teamed up in a cutthroat game of Monopoly, where they dominated all the other players, capping off their win with a duet of “We’re in the Money.” Then there was that moment in the den while they were all watching TV and Quentin leaned his back against her legs. The only thing that prevented it from being the most perfect night of Alice’s life was having to witness Summer’s reaction when Finn’s girlfriend unexpectedly showed up.