“We’re in a permanent rush until I find my clan,” she says.
We reach the main road, and I turn right to head to the highway. Juneau is studying the map. “Just stay on the smaller road,” she says after we’ve driven a couple of minutes. “We don’t want to join up with Highway 84.”
“We don’t?” I ask. “Why not?”
“Trust me,” she says. We drive in silence for about fifteen minutes. The bird is standing up in the backseat, looking out the window, enjoying the scenery like it thinks it’s the family dog. “There!” Juneau says, pointing to a sign that says SPRAY.
“That’s the name of a town?” I ask incredulously.
She shrugs. “That’s where we’re going.”
“It’s a hundred twenty-two miles away,” I say. “That’s going to take a couple of hours.”
She nods, as if she was expecting that.
“Might I point out the fact that Spray is southwest of us, not southeast?” I ask.
“I know that,” she responds. “I’ve got the map.”
“May I also point out that we are on day four of this road trip, and we are still pretty damn far from the Wild West?”
“Just start driving, we’re on a schedule,” she says.
“We’re on a schedule now that we’ve spent an entire day just sitting around?”
“We weren’t just sitting around,” she responds defensively. “I was waiting for a sign. For confirmation of what to do next.”
“And you got your sign?” I ask.
“Yes. I got a few.”
“Hey, good for you!” I say, and mean it. Looks like my pep talk worked and she’s back into delusional magical mode. I feel a slight pang of guilt at egging her on, but if it makes her happy and I don’t have to sleep on the ground another night, I can deal.
“Yeah, but who knows if those are the last signs I ever get,” she says, looking out her window with her head propped against the headrest.
“May I ask what they were?”
“One is that Whit is still searching for me and he’s not far behind us. He knows where my clan is, and if you and I are heading in the right direction, we have to be careful not to cross paths with him. It’s going to be close.”
“Double-crossing medicine man and his cronies are gaining on us. Joy,” I say as we reach the turnoff for Spray. I take it and we begin heading southwest. Toward California. Toward home. I have to call my dad.
As if reading my mind, Juneau asks, “Aren’t your parents going to be worried about you?”
It’s the first time she’s asked anything about me besides the vague “tell me something about yourself.” It’s the first hint that she is the least bit interested in me. So why does that spark a tiny flame of hope inside me? Maybe because all I’ve been able to think about this morning are her golden-honey eyes, inches away from my own, and those warm, soft lips.
“My mom left Dad and me last year, so she’s not doing any worrying,” I find myself revealing.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says, and puts her hand on mine. Warmth spreads from where her fingers touch my skin. I try to ignore my body’s reaction to this girl, but it’s getting increasingly difficult.
Juneau looks at me inquisitively like she’s wondering whether I’m going to cry, but those rivers have dried, and it’s only the furrows they carved in my heart that are left. “What happened?” she asks when she sees I’m not going to break down.
“She’s sick. Severe depression. She tried to kill herself last year, and when she didn’t succeed, she said we would be better off without her. And then she left.”
Juneau sits there looking horrified and firms her grip on my hand. “Do you know where she is?” she asks.
“Yeah, Dad tracked her down. She’s living with her aunt outside New York City.”
“Oh, Miles. I don’t even know what to say.” She looks shaken up. Really upset.
“It’s okay,” I say, feeling like I’m comforting her instead of vice versa. “I mean, I miss her, but you get used to someone being gone after a while.” I’m a big fat liar. And it doesn’t look like Juneau’s buying it.
“I just can’t imagine it,” she says. “I’ve never known anyone to get sick.”
“Yeah, well, mental illness is just the same as any other illness. At least that’s what people keep telling me. It happens all the time.”
Juneau just looks at me funny, like she feels sorry for me. My gaze drops to her lips, causing my heartbeat to stutter, and I quickly turn my focus back to the road.
“What about your dad?” she asks.
“What about him?” I ask, and realize how defensive it sounds once it’s out of my mouth.
“Won’t he be worrying?”
“Well, he knows I was in Seattle,” I say carefully. “I really should check in with him so he doesn’t freak out.”
Juneau bites her lip.
“What?” I ask.