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.