Those Girls

by Chevy Stevens

  I leaned away. “I can’t just sit around and wait for her to come home.”

  “So don’t. What are Emily and Taylor doing? Are they working?” She glanced at the calendar on the wall, her face slightly surprised like she’d just realized the date. “Oh, right. Emily’s going to their cabin this week.”

  “She’s leaving tomorrow. They invited me, but I didn’t feel like going this year.” Emily’s cabin was awesome and we always had fun, but sometimes it was hard watching her with her dad, how nice he was. She could be kind of mean to him, making fun of his jokes or how he dressed, acting annoyed when he wanted to take us fishing. I’d feel angry at her, then we’d get in a stupid fight.

  “Call and see if you can go,” Mom said.

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “I think it would be good for you to hang out with some girls your own age. You shouldn’t be worried about this kind of stuff.”

  “What about the gym?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll clear it with Dallas.”

  “Maybe I’ll call Emily.”

  “Good,” Mom said, looking relieved. She grabbed her coffee. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  * * *

  While Mom was at work that night I Googled maps and driving times, trying to calculate gas and how much money I’d need. I thought I could make it in about five and a half hours, a little more if I stopped for food or gas.

  When I walked into the kitchen in the morning, Mom glanced up from pouring coffee. I’d heard the TV on late after she got home last night, and her eyes were puffy like she hadn’t slept well.

  I felt hot and nervous. I’d raided the cupboard for granola bars and dried fruit, any stuff that would last awhile. I planned to drive all day, stop for lunch, then get a motel room in Cash Creek—I was going to pull a few hundred out of my bank account. I’d have to work extra shifts for the rest of the summer and maybe even babysit so I could still pay for the mixer and speakers.

  I poured myself some juice and sat down at the table. Mom turned around and leaned against the counter. “Did you get hold of Emily?”

  “Yeah, I can go. I’ll meet them at their house in a few hours.”

  “That’s great, Skylar. Try to have fun and don’t worry about Crystal. I’ll text you when she shows up. Don’t forget to call and let me know you’re okay.”

  “The cabin has crappy cell service, remember? I’ll text when we’re on the road or shoot you an e-mail, okay?”

  “Okay, baby.” She came closer, leaned down, and gave me a kiss on my lips, holding my chin like she did when I was little. “Be safe. I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too.”

  I watched her walk down the hall to her room.

  I felt bad—I’d never lied about something so big—but I pushed it away. Mom was wrong. She didn’t know everything about Crystal. She didn’t know what we’d talked about that day, didn’t see the look in her eyes, or how empty her house had felt. But I did, I knew. She didn’t plan on coming back.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I left around ten, while Mom was at the gym. I’d packed my stuff, including a switchblade she’d given me years ago—Patrick had shown me how to use it.

  It was already hot—I was wearing cargo shorts and a tank top, my skin sticking to my seat every time I moved. The air conditioner in my car was broken, so I had all the windows rolled down, my hair pulled back in a loose braid the wind whipped around, the stereo pounding.

  The Vancouver traffic clogged the highway all the way out of the city and it was slow going at first. I was nervous about the traffic; big trucks making my car vibrate as they roared past, the tires almost as tall as my car.

  As I got farther away from Vancouver and passed Hope, a small town a couple of hours out of the city, the terrain changed, getting more mountainous, with fewer signs of people. When I reached the Coquihalla, the big highway that would take me the rest of the way up to Kamloops, the scenery had changed from cedar trees and tall firs to craggy mountaintops and high rock bluffs baking in the morning sun. It was a steady uphill climb and I passed a couple of cars on the side of the road, steam billowing out. I thought about my mom and my aunts, how scared they must have been when their truck broke down on the road.

  I kept my eye out for Crystal’s car as I passed gas stations and motels along the highway. It was strange, thinking she might have been driving on this road only a few days ago. I had a few photos of her on my phone along with one I’d pulled out of our photo album. If I couldn’t find anybody who’d seen her in Cash Creek, then maybe Mom was right and she’d just needed to get away.

  I kept going over my last conversation with Crystal. Wherever she’d gone, I was sure I was the reason she’d decided to take off. I shouldn’t have said anything. What did I know? My mom and my aunts had lied to me for my whole life, every single day. It made me wonder what else they’d been lying about.

  When I’d been on the road for three hours I hit Merritt, another small town. The land had changed again, getting drier, more like a desert canyon with scrubby bushes and rolling fields of brown. I stopped at McDonald’s for lunch.

  I ordered my food and took a table, then texted my mom, letting her know I was almost at the cabin, sending lots of kisses and hugs and promising to text her as soon as I had coverage again. I’d texted Taylor that morning, telling her that I was going to be working some extra shifts so she wouldn’t wonder if she didn’t hear from me. I wasn’t worried about her calling my house—my friends only used my cell. A girl came out of the bathroom with a big packsack on her shoulder, gave me a smile, and walked out into the parking lot.

  I watched her go over to three guys standing by a white Jeep with a bunch of camping gear in the back. She was around my age and really pretty, with straight, almost-white blond hair pulled into a loose knot at the back of her neck.

  One of the guys handed her a cigarette, then said something as she bent forward to light it. She stepped back to blow out the smoke and turned around, walking away from them. Now one of the guys made an obscene gesture with his mouth and hand, like he was imitating a blow job. The other two were laughing.

  The girl gave them the finger, then kept walking toward the highway. The guys got into their Jeep and followed her, slowing to a near-stop where she was standing on the side of the highway with her thumb out. I watched, riveted, my hand paused on my fries. What were they going to do?

  The guy on the passenger side had his head out the window, looked like he was shouting something, then he lifted his arm and threw a Slurpee cup at her. She put her arm up, shielding her face, but a spray of liquid soaked her. The guys gunned the gas, their Jeep swerving on the road. The girl picked up a rock and threw it in their direction, but they were long gone.

  She walked back to the restaurant and disappeared into the bathroom, her face flushed. I felt bad for her and hoped she was okay.

  I was checking my map in the parking lot when she came out, wearing a different tank top, a pink one, and peered into my car.

  “Hey, can I get a ride?”

  I didn’t really want company. I wanted to think, not have a conversation.

  “Did you see those assholes?” she said. Before I could answer, she looked at the map in my hands. “Where you going?”

  “Cash Creek.”

  “I’m going to Revelstoke, but if you got me as far as Cash Creek I’d be really grateful.” She gave me a hopeful smile. “My name’s Lacey.”

  “I’m not sure.…” I didn’t want to be a jerk, but still.

  “I’m harmless, I swear. I just don’t want to end up in a ditch, you know?” She looked at the highway. “Those guys were creepy.”

  I thought about what had happened to my mom and aunts. Imagined reading in the paper about some hitchhiker getting killed.

  “Okay. But I have some stuff I have to do when I get to Cash Creek.”

  “Don’t worry. Soon as we get there, I’ll split.”

  * * *

  While we
drove, we talked. Turned out she was sixteen, but she looked older, with lots of makeup. She was from Hope, that first small town I’d driven through, and fighting with her parents because they didn’t like her boyfriend. She was running away to meet him in Revelstoke. I thought she was crazy to be hitchhiking but she said she did it all the time. She showed me a photo of her boyfriend, who was kind of cute, with brown eyes and really white teeth. She wanted to know why I was going to Cash Creek, and I just said I was meeting up with my aunt.

  I turned up the radio when a good song came on and started tapping out the beat on my steering wheel, singing the melody.

  “You have a good voice,” Lacey said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you a singer?”

  “No, I’m a DJ.” I felt a thrill saying the words, a little lift at the bottom of my stomach. “I have a YouTube channel.”

  “That’s so cool. I wish I could do something like that.”

  “You like music?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t sing, can’t play. I’m not really good at anything.” She shrugged. “My mom tells me all the time that I’m stupid.” She put on a harsh voice. “‘You’re going to end up living in a trailer park.’” She laughed, but it sounded bitter, and when she looked out the window her upper back quivered like she was fighting tears. I didn’t know what to say.

  After a few minutes she turned back around, started singing aloud to the radio in a really goofy high-pitched voice. I started laughing.

  “I told you I can’t sing!”

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding.”

  I joined in, making my voice go all squeaky, and it was kind of fun for a few minutes, until I remembered why we were on this trip. I stopped singing. Lacey glanced over, her voice drifting off. She stared back out the window.

  We’d been driving for over two hours through mountains, lakes, rolling farmland, and alpine meadows when a sign with food and lodging symbols showed that we were almost at the exit for Cash Creek, which was good because we hadn’t passed a gas station for miles and I was almost on empty.

  The town was small, the downtown core only a few streets. I’d only ever seen a few small towns on the way to Emily’s cabin, but those ones looked cute, like somewhere you’d want to stop and get ice cream or take photos. This one looked really rough. Most of the old buildings seemed run-down, and the park benches and metal garbage bins didn’t look like they’d been painted for years. Everything seemed faded, the paint on the stores, the pavement, the awnings.

  “I better get some gas,” I said.

  I noticed an older garage, remembered my mom’s words. One of them worked at a garage. What if he still worked there? Should I try to find another garage? I looked down at my dashboard. The light had been on for a long time.

  When we pulled up by one of the pumps no one came out, and the office looked empty. Two big shop doors were open, though.

  I got out of my car. Lacey also got out and leaned against the side of the car, fanning her face. I walked over to the shop, feeling the heat radiating off the pavement through my flip-flops. My hair felt heavy and hot on the back of my neck.

  A tall boy with a red baseball cap was bent over talking to another boy who was halfway under a truck. Looked like an older Chevy, and painted a gunmetal-gray with a Budweiser sticker in the back window. The truck was on a jack and huge tires with a meaty tread were off and leaning against the wall. A radio on the bench was playing country music. I was relieved there didn’t seem to be anyone else working.

  “Can we get some help?” I said.

  The boy with the baseball cap spun around. The other boy pulled his head out from underneath the truck and stood up. His eyebrows rose when he noticed Lacey, who had come to stand beside me. He had blond hair cut short on the sides and back, with long bangs brushed forward into his face. Both boys were probably around our age and looked grubby, grease under their nails, sweat stains under the arms of their dirty T-shirts, ripped faded jeans hanging low off their hips.

  “We need gas,” I said.

  “Shit, sorry, didn’t hear you pulling up,” the tall boy with the red cap said, coming toward us while wiping his hands on a rag. Even taller than me, he had fair skin and dark curly hair winging out from underneath his baseball cap, lively eyes and a cheeky smile.

  “You girls aren’t from around here,” he said.

  “Just visiting,” I said. I wondered if I should show them the picture of Crystal and ask if she’d filled up on gas, but wasn’t sure yet how to explain why I was looking for her. I glanced over at Lacey. She’d said she was going to split as soon as we got to town, but she hadn’t made any moves to hit the road yet.

  The blond boy followed us out, coming around to lean against the pump, smiling at Lacey. She smiled back.

  “How much you want?” the dark-haired boy said as he unscrewed my gas cap.

  “Fill her up, please.” I looked around, noticed a small peach-colored brick motel across the road. Someone had put hanging flower baskets at the front entrance and the sign promised free Wi-Fi and continental breakfast. Beside the garage there was a pub with a little awning over the front entrance. There were a couple of parking spots in front of the pub, but it looked like there might be a back parking lot on the road behind.

  I remembered Crystal telling me how a biker dude and his son had helped them. I looked up, noticed an open window with curtains. Did he still live there? Would Crystal have spoken to him? I looked back at the motel, shielding my eyes from the sun as I checked the cars in the parking lot. I didn’t see Crystal’s, but the motel might have parking in the back.

  “Is that the only motel in town?” I said.

  “Yeah,” the blond-haired boy said. “We call it the Peach. There’s another one north of town, like back on the highway, but it’s a lot more expensive.”

  “You looking for a place to stay?” the dark-haired boy said as I handed him the gas money.

  “Maybe,” I said. “Not sure yet.”

  Lacey gave me a curious look.

  * * *

  We got back in the car and the boys went into the gas station office. It looked like the dark-haired one was putting the money into the register. They both kept glancing at us through the dirty window. The blond boy smiled, said something to the other one.

  Lacey was sniffing the air through her open window. “Oh, my God, that smells good. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

  I caught the scent of barbecued meat. “I saw you at McDonald’s.”

  “I was just changing, didn’t have any money for food.” She shrugged like it was no big deal. She’d told me her dad was out of work. Things must be really bad. Mom always made sure we had a full fridge even when times were tough—and she still gave money to homeless people. I asked her why one day and she said, “You never really know someone’s story.”

  I glanced up, noticed the diner beside the hotel. It looked cheap.

  “I’ll buy you dinner, but then I have to get going, okay?” I wanted to start searching for Crystal, but I couldn’t leave her starving and I was hungry myself.

  “Really? That’s so awesome. Thanks.”

  We parked in front of the diner. Down the street a bit farther there were a few more stores, one looking like some sort of a hardware store, with a sign for the post office and another sign showing you could buy lottery tickets, ice, and bait. A few men out front stared at us as we got out of the car. I didn’t like the feeling in this town, the dust on the streets, the heat. Everything felt dirty and worn-out, and kind of creepy. I wondered if it was because I knew what had happened to my mom here, but it felt like more than that. Like this town had given up years ago.

  The waitress in the diner was about my mom’s age, with long black hair and short bangs. She offered us coffee, menus, and a friendly smile. We both ordered the special, chicken potpie with salad.

  “Now, can I get you girls anything else?”

  “No, that’s good, thanks.”

  We handed her
back the menus. I was putting sugar in my coffee, and Lacey was staring out her window at the pub across the way.

  “He’s hot.”

  I followed her gaze to a man working on a motorbike in front of the pub. He had some tools out and his shirt off. He was kind of cute for an older guy, with shoulder-length blond hair parted in the middle and a close-cropped dirty-blond beard. He put his shirt back on and was walking into the pub when the waitress came back with water for us.

  “Who is that guy?” I said.

  She looked out the window. “Owen? He runs the pub.”

  Crystal had said that the biker guy’s son had driven them to the bus station. Was it the same guy? Did his dad still own the pub? I decided I had to talk to him. If Crystal was here, the pub was probably the first place she went.

  Lacey was watching me. I turned back to face her.

  “What?”

  “Where are you supposed to meet your aunt?”

  “Not sure yet, I have to give her a call later.” I took a sip of my coffee. It was awful, grounds floating on the top, but I kind of liked the burnt taste.

  “Does she live here?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it. We’re having some family problems.” I knew I sounded nervous, but what was I supposed to say?

  “I get it, sorry.”

  I texted Mom again, told her I was fine and wouldn’t be able to check in for a couple of days. I’d disabled the location services on my cell phone before I left Vancouver and hoped she hadn’t noticed yet.

  The waitress brought our food. “Here you go, girls.”

  Lacey leaned over her plate, scooping up a huge mouthful of potpie and shoving it into her mouth. Still chewing, she stabbed her salad and brought another forkful into her mouth. I was still unrolling the cutlery from my paper napkin.

  “God, this is so good,” she said.

  I watched, disgusted at first—the chicken potpie looked watery, and the salad was wilted and drenched with dressing. Then I noticed the skin stretching over her collarbone, her skinny wrists and bony forearms, her pink plastic watch.