He hesitated. “It’s a little obvious now, ain’t it?”
My jaw dropped. No, no, no, no, no.
“Don’t do that, Rose.” Dad’s brows pulled together in disapproval. “We can’t just leave him here.”
“Sure we can!”
“Rose, stop it.” He jumped into the bed of the truck and began to unstrap vehicles. “Quit being so immature.”
“Immature? I’m immature?” My eyes were popping out of their sockets. I was appalled. How was attempting to save my life immature? “This coming from the man who was singing Rosie Bingo in the car the other night!”
“I’m about ready to start singing it again if you don’t knock it off.” His lips curved into a cruel smile. “And if I have to, I’ll make sure I sing it loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.”
I opened my mouth to blurt a nasty comment, then snapped it shut. He inhaled deeply, preparing to belt out the first words of my least favorite song in the world. Glowering, I slithered back towards the garage front, trying not to think about the fact that it was a solid six-hour drive to the camp site. Six. Long. Hours.
And—oh, dear God—I was going to spend them within arm’s length of the one person I’d so desperately been avoiding.
7) Cell Phone Wars.
The truck door closed behind me, and I bunched myself against the window. I had been hoping, praying that there would be a smidge of a chance that I’d get to sit in the front and Joe could sit in the back, but dad stuck to his lame rules of ‘adults get shot gun’… and, ok, he still thought I was being ridiculous.
Joe was in the car next, settling in front of me in the seat that should be mine. Dad was screwing around on the trailer, reorganizing my quad to fit his bike in. The truck would have a full load to haul this year.
And then Hayden opened his door, and I about lost it.
When a mouse is attacked, its body seems to pulsate because it’s breathing a hundred miles an hour, knowing its pursuer is going in for the kill. Well, that’s probably what I looked like: a frightened mouse flattened against the inside of the truck, preparing to hyperventilate before attack. I had to roll down my window and take a few deep breaths.
I listened to him get in and drop a small backpack on the floor. In my peripheral vision he closed the door, then buckle his seatbelt. My God, we were sitting next to each other. I couldn’t get over it, and I waited for his head to tilt, glance in my direction and make some snooty comment as to why I was trying to become one with the door panel.
But he never turned his head. In fact, I almost thought he himself was sitting somewhat close to his side of the cab, though I didn’t look to verify.
“Alright, kids!” Dad finally got in. “Are we ready?”
“We’re good, Cory,” Joe assured. He was being kind of quiet, like he could feel the negative vibes in the air. “Let’s get going.”
There was a walky-talky in dad’s hand, and it buzzed at him as the last door to the cab shut. Scffft! “Cory?” Scffft! “We going or what?” Scffft!
Dad held the walky-talky to his face. “Let’s head out! We’ll pick a meeting place for lunch in about two or three hours, ok?”
Scfft! “Sounds good!” Scffft!
With that, the truck engine roared to life. I stared through the corner of Joe’s seat and saw Race’s Chevy taking a U-turn before heading down the road. It occurred to me that if I had stopped Cheyenne from going with Race, it would be her sitting next to me in the cab right now. Hayden would be the one squeezed in between Race and Preston.
She’d better be enjoying herself.
The sun was at its highest as we made it through the core of the city. Buildings gradually became smaller, further apart from one another. Four-lane highways decreased to three, then two.
Dad’s stereo was spewing old rock music out the truck windows. This was annoying because, one, it was impossible to hear my ipod, and two, the city folk kept throwing the man with the mustache and X-men sunglasses weird looks.
We pulled off for lunch mid afternoon. Stepping into the restaurant’s lobby, I spotted a staircase to the second floor. A bar with a granite counter sat off my right, most chairs unoccupied. The deep blue walls had numerous snap shots of California, both rural and city, framed and hanging on them. The place was named Heatherton’s House.
A tiny waitress bustled out to meet us. She was wearing a white pullover and a pleated skirt. “Hello, welcome to Heatherton’s House,” she greeted with a Goldie Hawn smile. “How many today?”
Dad arranged us at three different tables. He gave all us girls the table by the window, the table behind us for the boys, and the table kitty-corner was where he and the men sat. We weren’t “allowed” at the men’s table. The girls made it clear the men were ok at ours… with a cash price.
Among us girls was the only woman on the trip. Carl’s wife, Patty, was a little heavier set like her husband, but she was a jolly sweet woman. The kind of person people could never hate. She was a great temporary mother when we were camping, always band-aiding our cuts and examining sprained wrists. I was surprised that she never had children.
“Hi, Patty!” We all chorused as she approached.
“Hey, darlings.” She took the seat next to Kinzie.
“Where were you, Patty?” I asked, picking a menu from the table’s center. “I didn’t see you before we left.”
“Oh, I was in the trailer. We haven’t used it since last year, so of course it needed some severe organizing.” Patty gave a scuff and shook her brunette head. “The funny thing was I swear I told Carl to clean that trailer up after we got back from last year’s trip. He denied I ever asked such a favor.”
“That’s a man for you.” Kinzie smirked as she opened her menu.
“Hey!” Race turned around. He was seated behind her, Preston smiling as he sat directly opposite him. “That is offensive content. I take that very offensively.”
“Hey I thought I said no testosterone at this table,” Kinzie said, pushing his face back around.
The waitress appeared again, placing glasses of water in front of us. After taking our drink orders (we all ended up ordering milkshakes) she shuffled over to Race and Preston, who both flaunted their flirting skills.
While the girls chatted, I pulled my phone from my pocket, feeling antsy from how much sitting I’d done today. Fishing through old pictures and previous messages, I remembered the strange phone call I got that day at the mall, the one with the number I didn’t recognize. I’d meant to call it back after Paul left, but thanks to my joy overload from seeing him, I sort of spaced it.
Hmm. I scanned my calls received list. The weird number wasn’t hard to find because he/she was the last person who’d called me. Again, I wondered if it was just a prank caller… but if it had been wouldn’t that person have been smart enough to call under restricted?
Was it worth calling back?
Or should I forget it? They probably just had the wrong number. If they’d have wanted to talk to me, they would’ve talked. Nonetheless, I found my finger pressing the green button, and holding the phone to my ear. Curiosity was another relentless gene in my family. What did I have to lose?
My line started to ring. At the same time, somebody’s phone started spouting off pop music behind me. Absentmindedly, I glanced over my shoulder.
Uh oh.
Hayden sat at an empty table, between the wall and the windows. One hand was twirling a salt shaker, his other fumbling with his singing jean pocket. He pulled out a sleek flip-phone and glanced lazily at the screen, like he could’ve cared less.
Suddenly his eyes grew rounder. The color in his face lightened. I guessed whoever was calling he wasn’t fervent to talk to. Maybe a parent. Or an ex-girlfriend—I bet he had a hundred of those. In a speedy movement, he flicked open his cell and tapped a button. The phone instantly quieted.
The strange thing was, the moment he hit the button on his phone, the ringing on my other line ceased and went to one of those
prerecorded voicemails. I hung up and sat there a minute, staring into space. Ok, that wasn’t weird, I thought sarcastically. Kind of coincidental that his phone should ring at the same time I was —
A gut-rotting theory interrupted my last thought. No. I shook my head and threw my hair over my shoulder. No way. It had to be the dumbest theory ever. Why would he? How would he? I had to look back again.
He was jiggling his leg now, posture matching that of the homework-slackers in my German class before a test. It was the posture that said: aw, crap. I’m screwed.
I blinked at him. What if? Pulse quickening, I took up the phone again. What if? I found the number in my received calls. The theory had invaded my head to the point where I was too nervous to redial, even if I wasn’t planning to say anything. I hit the button for a text message instead.
Hayden?
There. Short. Simple. Silent. I pressed send, waited around twenty seconds.
And his phone was ringing. Again. A different tone this time, some not-sotasteful rap song that would never be found in my playlist, but still ringing. I pretended to be fiddling with my shoe as I bent over, looking up to catch a glimpse of his face.
His cheeks were turning scarlet as he chewed his lip. His body sunk in the chair a little while the phone opened, those blue eyes scanning. He was reading a text message.
Suddenly he caught me looking at my bent over position. I froze. Oh, crap. He slammed his phone shut, turning back to the windows. I sat back up, encountering a head rush as the milkshakes arrived.
Oh. My. Goodness. It was the first time I could’ve kissed my mother for the nifty little trait she’d passed along to me, the psychic one that allowed my gift of facial readings. I read Hayden’s face easily.
Whether he’d been the one to call or not, it was his number in my phone. *
We arrived in San Bernardino just as the sun had sunk below the trees. Outside town, San Bernardino country was rather desert-like, and it made one wonder if LA could possibly be in the same state. A layer of purple darkened the sky as we turned off the main drive. The trucks slid along the dusty off-road, following Race’s truck in the lead. The trees’ leaves flashed their vibrant colors in the twilight. Tints of yellow and orange and red everywhere you turned. In the distance, I spotted the mountain range. It looked to be miles away, but within twenty-four hours I will have ridden up, down, and all around it.
The bottom of the gully evened out and revealed a turn off, then a long flat region that I imagined, if you looked down from the sky, was probably shaped like a wobbly butterfly. At the butterfly’s end, Greg and his father Robbie sat outside their mega camper with a fire going. Three dusty motorcycles stood at one side, clearly ridden today. I questioned the third bike, for Collin was nowhere to be seen. They’d all left early this morning, picking up Greg’s older brother from some fancy Beverly Hills college. Collin didn’t look much like Greg anymore. His dark Emo hair was cut off, his arms had muscles now—the kind you didn’t get from being active, but actually attending a gym—and for clothing, apparently blue/ green was the new black/red.
Collin was another person who confused me by tagging along.
Dad pulled the truck and trailer off to the side and parked. I jumped out of the cab the moment he’d come to a complete stop—not only because I was dying to get out and be social, but because any longer in the cab with Hayden and the new tension between us, I might’ve gone nuts. He’d been still as a rock since we left the restaurant.
The second my feet hit the ground, frosty air bit my skin. “Whoo!” I threw my arms around myself, skin rippling in bumps. It was colder than a snowman’s behind out here. I jogged over and sat on the ground by Greg’s chair. “Crap, its freezing!”
Greg looked down with a smile, clad in Alpinestar riding pants and boots. “Gee, hi, Rose,” he laughed. “You want a blanket or something?”
“Do you have a sweatshirt I can borrow?” My upper body was modeling a thin, skin-tight tee. I was just full of bright ideas today.
He got up and climbed inside the camper, returning with a Billabong sweatshirt that I’d seen him wear to work once or twice. “Here.” He chucked it at me. “It’s the smallest one I have.”
I pulled it over my head. It smelled like Axe deodorant, just like Greg. “Thanks. I’ll give it back to you once I can get into my bag.”
“No problem.” He settled back in his chair. “Just don’t get any of that, you know, girly smell on it. Jami would kill me if she thinks I’m all over another chic.”
“What? Your girlfriend don’t mind sharing, does she?” I teased.
He gave a nervous laugh. “Ha, ha. Uh, I think she very much would mind.”
“Mm. I see.” I rubbed my hair all over the shoulder of the sweatshirt.
He cringed. “Rose, I mean it. I really don’t need her biting my head off.”
I sniffed the sweatshirt. It smelled like fruity shampoo now. Content, I giggled before skipping back to the truck, leaving Greg to leer after me.
Dad was already throwing tents out of the back. Joe and Hayden were unhooking vehicles from the trailer. “There you are,” dad said as I approached. “Are you going to help me now?”
“I was borrowing a sweatshirt.” I gathered a blue tent off the ground, knowing Greg would prefer dirt on his clothing over “girly scent”. The tent was covered in a thin film of dust from its hibernation in the garage. “Are we just, making camp anywhere?”
“Yup. I’ll come help you girls in a minute.” Dad heaved my duffle bag out to the ground, the impact stirring up even more dust.
Picking up a box with cobweb-covered pegs inside, I drug the tent towards Race’s truck, gathering Cheyenne from the cab. I didn’t really care where we set up, as long as there weren’t any rocks. I hated stepping on the freaking things in the early morning when I was half asleep. Usually it happened in the middle of the night when I really, really had to pee.
“How about over there?” Cheyenne pointed.
There was a round spot a few feet back from Race’s vehicle. It was a ways from the circle the crew’s trucks and trailers had formed, but it was flat and completely non-rock. I approved. The only thing I didn’t like was that it was awfully close to the woods.
We started spreading the tent out, but it was heavy and hard to maneuver. Then I couldn’t figure out which way was forward or if it was right side up. Eventually, our struggling caught Race’s attention, and he and Preston came over to finish the job.
“Hey, Cory!” Preston called at one point while he was setting up the Guys’ Tent. “Where’s Hayden sleeping tonight?”
Dad looked up from beating a peg for the Men’s Tent into the ground. He glanced between them, that same look on his face that he’d given me before we left home. “Do you really need me to answer that for you?”
“Aw, no! Cory!”
“Uh-uh! No way, man! Come on!”
They whined like a couple of kiddies.
“Oh, quit it!” Dad hammered the last peg into the ground. The Men’s Tent stood erect and ready for use. “Stop being a couple of pansies. He’s not gonna hurt you. Crimany sakes!”
Race frowned, going pallid. “This is insanity.”
I couldn’t help but smirk while strolling by. “Hey, I got six hours in the car with him,” I reminded. “You’ll survive a couple nights.”
Both boys scowled at me, then stomped off towards the circle around the fire, where Todd was setting up chairs.
8) Bizarre
“Last chance, girls.” Dad buckled the last strap on his riding boot.
“We’re good.” I spoke for all the girls as we stayed put in our chairs by the fire. “Thanks.”
He shrugged. “Alright. Guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” Standing up he walked over to the guys, who were gathered in the oval of quads and bikes off the side of the campfire. They were all dressed in their gear, ready for a night ride.
I glanced over at Patty, who was folding tinfoil over the remains of din
ner rolls no one had claimed. She and Carl would stay behind tonight with all us girls, but I had to wonder if they were the only ones…
I gave my surroundings a quick eye-sweep. No sight of Hayden. I’d lost track of him while we were enjoying Carl’s fudge brownies for dessert. He wasn’t with the guys, though that didn’t surprise me. But there weren’t exactly a lot of places for people to disappear to unless they went in the woods… and why anyone would spend twenty minutes in the dark woods all alone I really had no clue.
“Alright, let’s go!” Somebody hollered.
In seconds, the revving of engines tested the sound barrier, the noise reverberating off trees and shooting through the night. We watched as both bikes and quads came to life and several headlights lit up. One by one they took off, out of our little butterfly-shaped clearing and onto the road. They would turn off about thirty yards down, go off on the biking trail that led through the woods and up the mountainside.
I did want to go with them, but I wasn’t fond of riding in the dark with nothing but headlights to guide me. If something popped up last minute, night riders rarely had time to react. The worst part was when your bike or quad light went out. You were left sitting in nothing but black, a world where darkness rained supreme.
I counted as each rider left the camp. Terry was the last one out. I didn’t see anyone once he was out of sight, and Hayden for sure had not been in that bunch. The girls were all chatting about some horrible eyebrow wax Cheyenne got last month when I budded in. “Hey, has anyone seen Hayden?”
They all quieted. “Wasn’t he with the guys?” Sami asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Why, did you see him?”
“Um, I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t paying that much attention.”
“He didn’t go.” Cassie pointed across the way. “Isn’t that his bike right there?”
I squinted through the dark. A glimmer of yellow paint and silver bike wheels stood in the remains of the oval by Sami’s quad. He was still here. Somewhere. A shiver went through me. I was so not going back to the tent alone.
A Taste of Silver Page 8