Chapter Four
ON MONDAY AT 8:32 A.M.—PRECISELY FOUR MINUTES AFTER HER mother left for work—Tiernan threw on her army-store backpack, slapped a Post-it note on the kitchen table, then zipped down the driveway on her skateboard. She needed to haul butt over to Alice’s pronto, before some friend of her mom’s spotted her and called Judy up to report an Unidentified Tiernan Sighting.
She cruised out of her neighborhood in no time at all. But the closer she got to Alice’s house, the slower her skateboard seemed to go. Sure, her mother could nab her at any minute—and if she did, she’d probably be grounded right up until she got dropped off at the dorms in September. But at least Tiernan knew what she was running from. What was she running to?
A gawker in a beige Lexus wagged his head disapprovingly as Tiernan rolled across Main Street, making a sharp left into Dunkin’ Donuts. Like ugly overpriced sedans were the only vehicles with drive-thru privileges.
And why shouldn’t she stop to grab a bite? Now that half the town had seen her, there wasn’t a reason to rush. Judging from the number of stares she’d gotten, you’d think blue-haired girls on skateboards sporting thirty-pound backpacks weren’t a standard part of the Walford morning commute.
“Welcome to Dunkin’ Donuts,” a female voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “What can I get for you this morning?”
Tiernan scanned the menu board for something she felt like eating. Part of her wanted to bail right now—to just go back home, lock herself in her room, and pretend like this morning’s little field trip never happened.
“Ma’am, what can I get for you?” Clearly Tiernan’s indecision was twisting this woman’s panties into a major bunch. The skateboard probably wasn’t helping.
“Ummmm . . . how ’bout a large chai?” Tiernan asked, like it was a question.
She paid for her drink, then scooted back to Main Street, struggling to stay on her board between the weight of her pack and the steaming, twenty-two-ounce beverage in her hand.
Normally, Tiernan was all about sugar. But the chai was so disgustingly sweet it actually made her teeth hurt. Who knew what it would do to her stomach lining if she somehow managed to finish the thing? Her belly had been feeling funky all morning, anyway. Ever since she left the note for her mom.
Don’t worry. I’m safe. Be back soon. —T.
She could just see the look on her mother’s face when she came home and discovered the note on the kitchen table. Judy probably wouldn’t waste any time before she put out an APB to all of Tiernan’s friends, who of course knew nothing, which meant she’d have to suck it up and call Tiernan’s dad, which would only piss her off more. But the only person who knew where she was going was Alice.
Or so Tiernan assumed until she rounded the corner onto Alice’s street and saw Bill and Sarah Miller smiling and waving at her from the front lawn. Crap. She hadn’t thought of the parents factor.
“Hey, it’s the T-Bird!” Bill called out as she skidded into the driveway. “Long time no see.”
T-Bird was Tiernan’s old nickname. Summer had made it up back in fifth grade, a blatant rip-off of skateboarding legend Tony “Birdman” Hawk. Of course, Hawk was way past his prime even back then, but he was probably the only boarder Summer could actually name.
“Hey, Bill, Sarah.” Alice’s parents were the first names kind. Every evening they ate dinner together as a family. On Friday nights, they played board games.
“Happy graduation!” Sarah said.
“Thanks.” Tiernan smiled, praying for Alice to come and save her from this dreaded small talk.
“So, Tiernan, how’s your mom doing?” Sarah asked.
Fine, until she realizes I’m gone, Tiernan thought. “Uh, the same.”
Just then Alice flew out of the house, arms loaded high with blankets, making a beeline for the back of the Pea Pod. No high-fructose caffeinated beverages necessary for this girl.
“Tiernan! You’re here,” Alice said, raising her eyebrows, which Tiernan interpreted to mean Tiernan! You’re late!
“Helluva commute this morning,” Tiernan said, holding up her Styrofoam Dunkin’ Donuts cup as evidence. Disturbingly, it was almost empty.
“So, Tiernan, where are you going to school in the fall?” Bill asked.
“In Boston. Emerson College.”
Sarah nodded her approval. “I have a friend at Emerson. She teaches in the drama depart—”
“Mom,” Alice snapped. “We don’t have time for chitchat if we’re going to make it to West Virginia by tonight.”
“Aye-aye, Captain!” Sarah said, shooting her a look of exaggerated deference.
“You forgot to salute, hon,” Bill added, elbowing his wife.
Alice gave Tiernan an eye roll. “Just toss your stuff in the back.”
For the first time in her life, Tiernan was grateful for Alice’s anal-retentive need to be on time. She wedged her skateboard behind Alice’s suitcase, remembering to grab her iPod from her backpack before tossing it on top. With ten straight days of unadulterated Alice ahead of her, odds were that she’d give it some serious use. Might as well grab her camera, too. You could never have too many distractions to fill up those long stretches of uncomfortable silence.
“Water, sunglasses, cell phone, map,” Alice was reading off a typed-up checklist. “Okay, looks like we’re good to go,” she said, smiling at Tiernan.
Sarah rushed over to hug her daughter. “Just promise me you’ll drive carefully, okay? Never when you’re too tired.”
“And call us. At least every five hundred miles,” Bill said, moving in to give Tiernan a squeeze, which, shockingly, turned out to be less awkward than Sarah’s squishy mom-boob embrace.
Tiernan climbed into the Pea Pod, face-to-face with a sign written in her own handwriting, circa sixth grade: LEVEL3 SUPER-FAN HEADQUARTERS. More like Super Dork Headquarters. It was strange to be back in the van with all their old stuff just as they’d left it—their posters, their precious Level3 collages.
“Okay, let’s do this thing,” Alice said, starting the Pea Pod.
The thrum of the engine sent shivers up Tiernan’s spine.
“Bon voyage!” Bill shouted from the front steps as the Pea Pod slowly backed down the driveway. Tiernan waved politely out the window and Alice gave the horn a quick double-beep, then Bill and Sarah disappeared inside their house and she and Alice were alone.
Tiernan was tempted to take a picture of this moment just to prove it was actually happening. She was really running away. Not to mention driving cross-country with Alice Miller. It was hard to say which made her more nervous.
“Stop!” shouted a voice from behind the van.
Alice’s eyes flew to the rearview mirror and the van screeched to a halt. Shoot. Tiernan couldn’t believe her luck. Busted while she was still in the driveway. Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned to face the one person in Walford she’d been trying to avoid.
Okay, make that two people.
“Oh my God!” Alice squealed. She flung open her door and leaped out onto the pavement. “Don’t tell me you’re coming?”
Yeah, don’t tell me.
Summer Dalton strutted over to Alice in a form-fitting yellow tank top and khaki short-shorts, an oversize green Walford Hawks duffel bag in hand.
“I thought I might miss you guys, so I ran the whole way here,” she said breathlessly.
Alice snatched the duffel bag from Summer’s hand, like she was the girl’s personal bellhop. “I can’t believe it.” Alice giggled. “All three of us, together again!” Then she quickly turned away, fiddling with Summer’s luggage in an effort to cover up the embarrassment of her own enthusiasm. Not that Summer noticed. She had already let herself into the back, filling the van with a cloying flowery smell, like a women’s magazine after somebody ripped open all the perfume samples.
“Wow, this looks exactly the same! Are you guys having flashbacks, or what?” Summer asked, smiling at Tiernan.
“Yeah, but it might be from all those mushrooms I ate back in ninth grade,” Tiernan replied.
Summer freaking Dalton. There was something behind that superfake smile of hers (a whiff of desperation?) that made Tiernan pretty sure Summer wasn’t here to reconnect with her old middle school pals. A runaway can always spot another runaway.
“Okay, ladies, take two,” Alice said, getting back behind the wheel.
This time they made it out of the driveway.
“Just so you guys know,” Alice began, “there’s plenty of fruit in the built-in coolers in back, and the water tank’s full, so you can just fill your water bottles at the sink. First-aid kit’s in the storage space above your head, Summer. Scrabble and Pictionary are in the one at your feet.”
“Did you remember to pack the Belgian waffle maker?” Tiernan asked.
Of course Alice hadn’t overlooked a single detail. Back when they were all friends (as opposed to whatever they were now—van-mates?), Tiernan and Summer used to have a running joke that they lived life like they were vacationing on a luxury liner and Alice—hyperorganized child that she was—was their cruise director.
“I brought my GPS along!” Summer announced, pulling it from her trendy oversize purse. It was still in the box, unopened.
“It was a graduation gift from my parents,” she explained. “They’re worried about me driving in Boston. All those oneway streets.”
Tiernan rolled her eyes. Boston College wasn’t technically even in Boston. It was in Newton, which was a suburb almost exactly like Walford, full of wide two-way streets, sprawling green lawns, and rich people in khakis who cared about sports.
“Tiernan, you want to set it up?” Alice asked.
“Maybe Summer should do it. It’s her thing.”
Summer shook her head. “You know I’m terrible with directions. Plus, you are in the copilot’s seat.”
Summer handed the box up to Tiernan, but she refused to take it. “Just so you both know, I’m not planning on being van bitch for the next two thousand miles.”
“Why not?” Summer asked cheerily. “You seem to be doing a pretty good job so far.”
Tiernan gave a small chuckle. She had to admit, Summer could really dish it out when she wanted to.
“You guys,” Alice chided, “once I teach you how to drive the Pea Pod we’ll all have a turn at copilot, o—?”
But a loud thump interrupted Alice’s peacemaking.
“Stop the van!” Summer screeched from the back. “Alice, pull over!”
“Shoot!” Alice hit the steering wheel with her hand. “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!”
Tiernan hadn’t seen what they’d hit, but judging from Alice’s and Summer’s reactions, it was either the most adorable puppy in the world or a wagon full of preschoolers. But just as she was about to ask, Tiernan spotted the lifeless clump of gray fur through the rear windshield, lying by the side of the road about twenty yards back. A squirrel. It was only a squirrel.
Not the best omen for the start of their trip. That is, if Tiernan still believed in any of that beshert crap anymore.
“PARADE”
DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE,
YOUR P-P-PARADE WILL JUST HAVE TO WAIT.
’CAUSE YOU KNOW, I’M GONNA BE THERE
RIGHT ON TIME
I WAS RIGHT HERE WHEN WE MET
AND N-N-N-NO, NO I’M NOT HERE YET
BUT YOU KNOW, I’M GONNA BE THERE
RIGHT ON TIME
—from Level3’s third CD, Natural Causes