and Josh in a hotel room, when Josh says, âLetâs keep driving? If I go to sleep anytime soon, Iâm going to have doll nightmares.â Were the dolls worth spoiling my hotel fantasy? I weigh the question as we load ourselves into the stuffy car. The warm air, the setting sun, and Elvis quickly lull my brain into submission.
So we drive toward the sunset, windows down; Elvis reruns fill the air. We drive as the stars bloom on the vast fabric of navy sky, passing miles of nothing, as bugs canât help but throw themselves at our windshield. We drive until my eyes close, until the tape flips again, until we finally come to a stop, in a town Josh tells me in a dreamy whisper is called Wall, and I float behind him as he holds my hand and leads me to a bed thatâs not mine and I fall asleep.
Went to Gavinâs house for dinner. Well, sort of. He invited me over, rare, and I couldnât say no. Even after what happened the last time, over a year ago. Even after his dad threw that glass of beer, barely missed Gavin, splashed me but didnât cut me. He said his dad wouldnât be home. Everythingâs easier when the parents arenât home. But when we pulled up in my car, his dadâs truck was there. Gavin told me to peel out. I didnât put the car into reverse fast enough for him, so he grabbed the shift and pulled it up too far and the car made a weird noise and sputtered, and I was afraid that we were stuck and that my car was broken. But then Gavin got it back in the right position and I backed out as quickly as I could manage, and we drove away really fast. He asked if McDonaldâs was OK. I wanted to open my mouth, but all I could do was nod.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sun leaks through a slit in the room-darkening curtains, throwing a white slash on the wall. I sit up, and my eyes adjust to the hotel room, but not before my nose does. The room reeks of skunk, and I canât help but hold my hand over my face. Once I can see, I spy Josh in the second of two beds, asleep. I whip back the sheets, all my clothes still in their appropriate place on my body, and feel a nip of disappointment. I fumble my way into the bathroom and pray that the shower will wash the smell out of my nose. I expect to find bugsâor worseâwhen I pull back the shower curtain, but thankfully all I find is a tiny wrapped bar of soap and a mini bottle of shampoo/conditioner combo. The water heats up quickly, and I manage to lose the smell from my nose and the lameness of last night from my brain. I exit the bathroom with a towel around my middle, hoping that Josh will like what he sees. But Josh is still asleep, and I dress quickly to ensure the stank clings to as little of my body as possible. As a tribute to the fabulous town of Mitchell, I wear my new Corn Palace T-shirt, powder blue, kid-size for clinginess, which claims, THE WORLDâS ONLY CORN PALACE . Itâs A-MAIZE-ING ! Not able to stand the stench any longer, I head to the door, which Iâm slightly surprised to see Josh has bolted and chained; he seems too carefree to worry about safety. Maybe Wall didnât feel too savory after midnight.
The unlocking causes Josh to stir, so I call, âGood morning.â A mumble comes from Joshâs general direction. âIâm going outside,â I tell him. âNeed fresh air.â
âShower,â is all he can say.
âMeet me outside when youâre ready,â I tell him, and then I enter the morning air of Wall, which, strangely, doesnât smell at all of the skunk stench in our room. Glad I didnât think to look under the beds.
Weâre on the second floor of a motel, and the balcony view is a dusty parking lot and a road strewn with fast-food restaurants. A few rooms down, a family props their door open with a cooler. Two bright blond boys calculatedly drop ice cubes over the railing. I look over the balcony to see a puddle surrounded by pigeons. âI
So we drive toward the sunset, windows down; Elvis reruns fill the air. We drive as the stars bloom on the vast fabric of navy sky, passing miles of nothing, as bugs canât help but throw themselves at our windshield. We drive until my eyes close, until the tape flips again, until we finally come to a stop, in a town Josh tells me in a dreamy whisper is called Wall, and I float behind him as he holds my hand and leads me to a bed thatâs not mine and I fall asleep.
Went to Gavinâs house for dinner. Well, sort of. He invited me over, rare, and I couldnât say no. Even after what happened the last time, over a year ago. Even after his dad threw that glass of beer, barely missed Gavin, splashed me but didnât cut me. He said his dad wouldnât be home. Everythingâs easier when the parents arenât home. But when we pulled up in my car, his dadâs truck was there. Gavin told me to peel out. I didnât put the car into reverse fast enough for him, so he grabbed the shift and pulled it up too far and the car made a weird noise and sputtered, and I was afraid that we were stuck and that my car was broken. But then Gavin got it back in the right position and I backed out as quickly as I could manage, and we drove away really fast. He asked if McDonaldâs was OK. I wanted to open my mouth, but all I could do was nod.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sun leaks through a slit in the room-darkening curtains, throwing a white slash on the wall. I sit up, and my eyes adjust to the hotel room, but not before my nose does. The room reeks of skunk, and I canât help but hold my hand over my face. Once I can see, I spy Josh in the second of two beds, asleep. I whip back the sheets, all my clothes still in their appropriate place on my body, and feel a nip of disappointment. I fumble my way into the bathroom and pray that the shower will wash the smell out of my nose. I expect to find bugsâor worseâwhen I pull back the shower curtain, but thankfully all I find is a tiny wrapped bar of soap and a mini bottle of shampoo/conditioner combo. The water heats up quickly, and I manage to lose the smell from my nose and the lameness of last night from my brain. I exit the bathroom with a towel around my middle, hoping that Josh will like what he sees. But Josh is still asleep, and I dress quickly to ensure the stank clings to as little of my body as possible. As a tribute to the fabulous town of Mitchell, I wear my new Corn Palace T-shirt, powder blue, kid-size for clinginess, which claims, THE WORLDâS ONLY CORN PALACE . Itâs A-MAIZE-ING ! Not able to stand the stench any longer, I head to the door, which Iâm slightly surprised to see Josh has bolted and chained; he seems too carefree to worry about safety. Maybe Wall didnât feel too savory after midnight.
The unlocking causes Josh to stir, so I call, âGood morning.â A mumble comes from Joshâs general direction. âIâm going outside,â I tell him. âNeed fresh air.â
âShower,â is all he can say.
âMeet me outside when youâre ready,â I tell him, and then I enter the morning air of Wall, which, strangely, doesnât smell at all of the skunk stench in our room. Glad I didnât think to look under the beds.
Weâre on the second floor of a motel, and the balcony view is a dusty parking lot and a road strewn with fast-food restaurants. A few rooms down, a family props their door open with a cooler. Two bright blond boys calculatedly drop ice cubes over the railing. I look over the balcony to see a puddle surrounded by pigeons. âI
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