“That’s exactly why we can’t tell her. She’ll have too many questions.” Dani mimicked Ingrid’s rough voice, her hands on her hips. “Where are you going? What aunt? How come you never mentioned her before? Maybe we should talk to the sergeant and see if anyone’s heard from your father lately.”
“We have to write a note, Jess,” Courtney said.
“They’re going to think it’s weird,” I said.
“They’re going to think whatever we do is weird,” Dani said. “But if we leave tonight, we have a few hours’ head start before anyone starts looking for us.”
I hated it but they were right. We rehearsed a few different ways of saying it, and in the end they got me to write the note—I had the best handwriting.
Dear Walter and Ingrid,
Thanks for letting us stay. We really appreciate everything you’ve done for us and are really sorry to be leaving you. Our dad hasn’t come home and we’re out of money, so we’re going to stay with our aunt in Edmonton. If he shows up, tell him we’re at Helen’s.
Love, Jess, Dani, Courtney
We waited until two in the morning, when we figured the streets would be the quietest, taped the note to the front door, and drove off. As soon as we got out of town and the wooden sign for Littlefield disappeared in our rearview mirror, I was filled with apprehension. What was going to happen to us? Would Walter send the cops after us? Would they find some blood in the house? Had we missed something? We’d taken the gun—it was under the bench seat. If we got pulled over we’d be in trouble for having it, but that was the least of our problems.
“You should try to get some rest,” Dani told us.
But we couldn’t sleep. We talked a little about what Vancouver would be like, where we’d stay. Dani figured we’d find a youth hostel. Then we’d find jobs, maybe cleaning or waitressing. Dani wanted to see if there were any farms on the outskirts that were looking for workers. We’d have to get new ID right away—none of us had a social insurance number—but we didn’t know where to start. Dani said we’d just have to find out where the rough section of town was, like where drug dealers hung out, then we could ask.
After we stole the gas we drove for another hour, through small towns and farmland, lakes and valleys lining the roads. The towns were dark at this time of night, our only company on the road the occasional truck. Dani fell asleep at the wheel once, swerving onto the dry shoulder, only waking when we yelled at her, so we pulled off onto a side road and spread out our sleeping bags in the back of the truck. We’d planned on getting up early, but we were all exhausted and woke with the sun beaming down on us, our bodies stiff and sore. We drank some water, ate some of our food, brushed our teeth—spitting into the ditch—and got back on the road. If we found Troy without too much trouble, we figured we could still make it to Vancouver by the afternoon.
“We’ll go to the beach on your birthday,” Dani said.
“That’d be cool.” I tried not to think about my father’s presents, how days earlier they’d been all I wanted.
A half hour later when we were getting close to Cash Creek, steam started coming up through the hood, then billowed out in big gusts.
“What the hell is that?” Courtney said.
“Fuck if I know,” Dani said as we pulled onto the side of the road. We all piled out and looked at the truck. Water was dripping out from below.
“Is it the radiator?” I said.
“Probably. Shit.” Dani kicked the tire.
“We’re going to have to hitch to town,” Courtney said.
We grabbed what we could out of the back—water, our packsacks, some of the food—and started walking. We had to leave the rifle under the front seat and I worried about someone breaking into the truck. We hadn’t gone far, could still see the truck, when we heard the rumble of an engine—a black Ford pulled alongside us. Two guys, maybe in their early twenties, were smiling through the window. The driver, a dark-haired boy with a baseball cap and a white tank top, leaned over the steering wheel.
“Truck break down?”
Keeping her distance from the truck, Dani said, “Yeah, steam started coming out.”
“Probably your radiator or the water pump. I can look at it—I’m a mechanic,” the dark-haired boy said. The other one had brown hair and a big toothy smile, no shirt. He had a farmer’s tan, lines on his neck and arms.
Dani turned, met our eyes.
Courtney shook her head. “We should just walk to town.”
Dani whispered back, “It’ll take too long.”
The boys glanced at each other. The dark-haired one shrugged.
“It’s cool if you don’t want help. We can send the tow truck back, cost you about a hundred.”
The other boy chimed in, “Or if you want to walk, probably take you an hour.” The heat was already waving off the road, sucking at our skin.
Dani said, “If you could take a look, that’d be great.”