Chapter Seven
TIERNAN OPENED HER EYES AND CHUGGED A LARGE GULP OF HER lukewarm blue Gatorade. Shortly after scarfing down lunch at a New Jersey Turnpike rest stop (ugh!) she’d slipped into a long, fast-food-induced coma. Either that, or being forced to listen to the Queen Bee blabbing to her drones back in Walford had rendered her unconscious.
One hundred fifty miles later, Summer was still going strong. Apparently, her breakup with Jace (if it even was a breakup) was happening by committee.
“Are we there yet?” Tiernan asked groggily.
“Nope,” Alice answered. “Still in Pennsylvania.”
In the backseat, Summer flipped her phone shut, then immediately opened it back up and dialed another number. “Hi, Melanie? It’s me. Listen to what Sierra just told me.”
Tiernan raised her eyebrows and shot Alice a look. This 90210-style drama was definitely not how Tiernan’s posse rolled. Then again, Tiernan could actually make decisions all by herself.
“Hang on a sec, Mel. Claire’s beeping in.”
As long as Tiernan could remember, Summer was all about the boy drama. Even back in fourth grade, when the only boys in their lives existed in Level3 fantasy world, Summer could get bent out of shape if she and Travis failed a compatibility quiz in Seventeen magazine. Once, Summer saw a video of Travis kissing a Victoria’s Secret model on tmz.com and had actually cried real tears.
It wasn’t as if Tiernan had never crushed on a rock star before. As a kid, she’d had a major infatuation with Luke from Level3. Hell, she’d still jump his bones in a heartbeat, given the chance. But, unlike Summer, Tiernan always knew the difference between a celebrity crush and reality.
“That’s weird,” Summer whispered. “Jace didn’t tell me he went to your party.”
Tiernan gave Alice another sidelong glance. If even Alice knew, then everyone at school had to know about Jace and that perky sophomore chick. Everyone, that is, except for Summer. The girl had an army’s worth of blond frenemies back in Walford, and not one of them had the cojones to tell her Jace was stepping out on her. Not that Tiernan was about to drop that bomb.
“I thought you said you didn’t go to Melanie’s party. . . .” From the sound of things, Summer was back on with the cheater himself.
Tiernan leaned in toward Alice and cupped a hand over her ear. “Well, Bob,” she whispered in the nasally voice of some old-timey sportscaster, “Dalton started out with a weak first quarter, but now it looks like she’s turning her game around.”
“Bob?” Alice asked with a chuckle.
“That doesn’t make sense, Jace. How do you forget to tell me something like that?” Summer was growing impatient, louder.
Tiernan held up a fake microphone this time. “The defense is giving it everything they’ve got, but wait—it looks as if Dalton has rallied and—hang on—she is heading into the end zone and—oh!—out of bounds!”
“Shhhh.” Alice gave her a reprimanding look Tiernan interpreted as lower your voice, not stop altogether.
“I have to say, Bob,” Tiernan went on. “Dalton looks determined to take that ball to the goal line even if it means going into overtime.”
Somewhere in northern Maryland, Summer (halle-frickin’-luyah!) lost cell service. If Tiernan had still been sportscasting, she would have declared it a tie.
Part of her felt a little guilty for mocking Summer’s breakup. She’d had her own share of guy trouble over the years. She knew how much it sucked. Then again, it wasn’t as though Tiernan had been the one yammering on the phone for the past two hours with no regard to the bleeding ears of the two other people in this traveling sardine can.
Plus, someone needed to cheer Alice up. Maybe Summer was too self-absorbed to notice, but it was pretty obvious to Tiernan that being left out of the loop was still Alice’s number-one pet peeve. And the fact that Summer had now shared her trauma with five zillion or so of her closest friends back in Walford, and specifically not with the two people who were actually in the car, had to be driving her crazy.
“Hey, Summer.” Alice’s voice was tentative. “I just wanted to make sure you’re . . . that everything’s . . . okay.”
Summer stopped to think, like she was pondering this for the first time. “I don’t know,” she finally said. Then she put Level3 back on—loud.
Good old Level3—more emo than 30 Seconds to Mars, less poppy (and decades younger) than U2, and just enough edge to get play on both the Top 40 and the alternative radio stations. Tiernan hadn’t listened to Level3 in years, but in honor of the road trip, she’d loaded their first album (and their best, as far as she was concerned) onto her iPod last night. Surprisingly, their music still held up.
But even Luke Dixon’s hard-core drum solo couldn’t break through the walls of tension between them. And as much as Tiernan tried to kick back and enjoy the music, she couldn’t help feeling twitchy and restless, like she wanted to find the nearest mosh pit and dive in headfirst. The shrink Judy forced her to see after the divorce always used to tell Tiernan that being angry was just a way people protected themselves from feeling hurt. But as far as she was concerned, the only thing that hurt was her butt from sitting on it for the past eight hours straight.
They listened to the album twice and not one of them spoke a word.
Back when they were young, Tiernan always had a knack for snapping Summer out of one of her sulky moods. It wasn’t like Alice didn’t try. The girl was constantly going out of her way to do something nice if Tiernan or Summer was sad, like when Tiernan told them her parents were getting divorced and an hour later Alice showed up on her doorstep with a plate of her famous chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies, still warm. But as much as Alice tried to break through to Summer, Tiernan was always the one with the magic touch. She wasn’t sure how it managed to work out that way, but she figured it probably had something to do with the way Alice took things way too seriously and Tiernan never took anything seriously at all.
Not that Tiernan thought for a second that she still had that power over Summer. And even if she did, there were certain unwritten rules for the three of them being together again: invisible DO NOT ENTER signs; topics they dared not mention.
They finally crossed into West Virginia and Alice broke the long silence. “Check it out! We’re here!” She pointed to a large WELCOME sign at the border. “What do you say we find a cheap place to stay and call it a night?”
“Works for me!” Tiernan said enthusiastically.
Summer just nodded.
At the bottom of the off ramp, they followed the blue signs toward a strip of fast-food restaurants and chain hotels.
“Just so you know,” Alice began. “I’d rather stay in places that are small and locally owned, as opposed to, say, corporate and franchised.”
Tiernan had to hand it to Alice—the girl not only talked the talk, she actually walked the walk. It wasn’t as if Tiernan didn’t have strong beliefs about things; it was just that she showed them more in a bumper-sticker kind of way.
“Well, I don’t think any of these chain hotels can take us anyway.” Tiernan pointed out the window. “The Red Roof Inn says ‘no vacancy.’ Same with the Travelodge across the street.”
They drove past four more hotels, each with a NO VACANCY sign.
“Since when did West Virginia become such a vacation hot spot?” Summer asked, suddenly perking up.
“They’re probably just here for the free HBO,” Tiernan offered.
Alice shook her head. “There has to be something going on. I mean, it’s a Monday night.”
Soon they were past the big-box stores and strip malls into a less-developed area. But even the locally owned fleabag had a NO VACANCY sign.
“Maybe we should get back on the highway and try the next exit,” Alice suggested.
“Hang on.” Tiernan turned to Summer. “I think we should see what Coach Quigley has to say about this.”
Summer pulled out the GPS and handed it up to Tiernan.
After a bit of poking around, Tiernan found what she was looking for. “Check it out.” She held the GPS up for Summer to see. “According to Coach Quigley, the Happy Beaver Campground is just eight point six miles up the road.”
“The Happy Beaver?” Alice sounded dubious.
“Please, Alice,” Tiernan begged. “Please can we stay at the Happy Beaver?”
Alice shrugged. “As long as they have vacancies, it’s fine by me.”
“Whatever,” Summer said.
Ten minutes down the road, an enormous wooden beaver came into sight. It was only when they got closer that Tiernan noticed the little white sign the beaver held in his teeth: FULLY OCCUPIED.
“Looks like the Happy Beaver’s already getting plenty of action tonight.” Tiernan shrugged.
“Bummer!” Alice whined. “Now what?”
“I’m starving,” Summer said. “I think we should find someplace to eat first and then figure out the hotel situation later.”
From Tiernan’s unscientific observation, the only thing Summer had consumed all day was a small bag of fries and a Diet Coke.
“I brought along plenty of snacks, you know,” Alice offered. “Apples, clementines, granola bars, sesame rice cakes, soy crisps . . .”
“This, my friend, is what we call a road trip,” Tiernan said, a note of authority in her voice. “Which means we should be adhering to the road-trip food pyramid, not that mini version of Whole Foods you stashed in the back.”
Summer stifled a giggle.
“I guess I must have missed that day in health class,” Alice said.
Tiernan went on. “On the bottom of the pyramid, you’ve got your snack cakes—your Ho Hos, your Twinkies, your Little Debbies. Next up, you have gummy animals, which includes your Gummi Bears, gummy worms, as well as Swedish Fish and Sour Patch Kids, all of which are considered subspecies within the gummy kingdom.”
“What’s at the top of the pyramid?” Alice asked, playing along.
Tiernan rolled her eyes. “Funyuns. Duh.”
“I think we all need to get out of this van and get some fresh air,” Summer declared.
A red neon sign for Lucky’s Diner flashed in the distance, so Alice headed toward it, without even bringing it up for a vote. Lucky’s looked like an old-school greasy spoon, the kind of place where if it wasn’t cooked in a fry-o-lator, they probably weren’t serving it. When they pulled into the parking lot, Tiernan could see that the neon L on the Lucky’s sign flickered on and off so that LUCKY’S temporarily turned into UCKY’S.
Alice parked in the only empty spot she could find next to a long-haired dude by a motorcycle.
“Nice wheels,” he called out as they exited the Pea Pod.
“Thanks,” Alice said.
The motorcycle dude was older than them, but not by much—twenty-one or twenty-two—and cute in a scraggly sort of way. Tats on both arms, three days worth of stubble on his chin, the kind of wiry, skinny guy muscles that come from working outdoors. Tiernan usually went for guys with more of an indie rock vibe to them, but there was something captivating about this one—the hint of a bad-boy gleam in his eye.
“Is it a ’seventy-seven?” he called out.
“’Seventy-six,” Alice said, quickly wiping the sweat off her forehead before turning to face him. Without the breeze of the moving van, the heat was stifling.
“It’s in good shape,” he said, moving his gaze from Alice to Tiernan. “Damn good shape.”
Tiernan smiled back at him, but only with the corner of her mouth. Maybe she liked him; maybe she didn’t. Of course, Summer hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge his presence and was already halfway across the parking lot.
“Thanks.” Alice giggled. “My parents just had it redone for me as a graduation present.”
Tiernan cringed. Nothing like mentioning the ’rental units to kill a good flirtationship. But, in a way, Tiernan always thought it was kind of sweet the way Alice had absolutely no moves whatsoever. She was just 100 percent pure Alice, take it or leave it.
“Anyway,” Alice kept blathering, “we’re pretty hungry, so we should probably go.” Then she turned around and actually started to jog toward the Ucky’s entrance.
“See ya around,” said the dude, his gaze lingering on Tiernan.
“Maybe,” Tiernan replied, giving just a hint of the other half of her smile as she slowly walked away. Mona Lisa had nothing on her.
When she entered Ucky’s, Tiernan was hit with a much-needed blast of air-conditioning, and she stood under it until the breeze made the hair on her arms stand on end. She’d just started to shiver when the hostess came over, pointing them toward the last available booth.
Summer sat down first and Tiernan plopped herself onto the bench across from her, which left poor Alice with the unfortunate task of choosing sides. Tiernan could practically hear the silent eenie-meenie-minie-moe going on in Alice’s head before she finally slid in next to Tiernan, her bare legs making a farting noise against the green vinyl seat.
“You gals here for the festival?” A chunky waitress with streaky blond hair and eighties bangs plunked three ice waters on the table. She was about Tiernan’s mom’s age and she wore a polyester uniform two sizes too small. Her name tag said WANDA.
Tiernan looked up from their menu. “What festival?”
Wanda flashed her a big gummy smile, shaking her head like Tiernan was being sarcastic, which, for once, she actually wasn’t. “Y’all are pulling my leg, right?” she asked in a sticky Southern drawl.
According to Wanda, the Eyes of the World Music Festival—named after a song by the Grateful Dead (barf)—was starting tomorrow, in the next town over. Hotels, motels, and campgrounds for miles around were filled to capacity with (Wanda’s words) “Birkenstock-wearin’ patchouli-oil smellin’ hippies.” Hence all the NO VACANCY signs.
“Shoot,” Alice said, when Wanda had walked off. “I really don’t feel like driving another thirty miles tonight.”
“Can’t we just stash the Pea Pod in a parking lot and camp there?” Tiernan asked.
Alice shook her head. “Aside from the fact that it’s illegal, I promised my parents we’d only stay at campgrounds.”
Again with the parents. Tiernan wouldn’t be surprised to find out Alice was rooming with them in her college dorm.
“Well, camping in a parking lot does not sound safe to me at all,” Summer added. “Who knows what kind of random people might be roaming around at night?”
“Bunch of folks are camping out in this farmer’s field off of East Mountain Road.”
Two boys in tie-dye T-shirts had slumped into the booth across from theirs while Wanda was still busy clearing the dishes from the last people. From the newness of their Tevas, Tiernan guessed they were frat boy hippies as opposed to the genuine article (the key differences being showering on a daily basis and listening to Dave Matthews). The one who spoke to them was tall and skinny, with a puka-shell necklace and a patchy goatee. His friend had a stumpy ponytail and Guatemalan print shorts.
“Guy who owns the place charges five bucks a head,” the one with the ponytail added.
“I don’t think so,” Summer jumped in. “But thanks.”
“You are most definitely welcome,” said the tall one, who, judging from his bloodshot eyes, was either highly allergic to something in the West Virginia air or, more likely, just plain high.
Wanda gave the boys’ table a perfunctory wipe with her gray dishcloth, then hurried off. The short one adjusted his ponytail and leaned across the aisle. “So, where you guys from?”
“Massachusetts,” Alice offered, after no one else did.
“No way.” The stoned one laughed. “We’re from Vermont!” Tiernan wasn’t sure why, but New Englanders away from home were always jazzed to meet other New Englanders.
“We came down with a bunch of people from school. This band we know from UVM is opening up for RatDog.”
Summer rolled her eyes.
“We’re not going to the festival,” Tiernan explained. “We just happened to be passing through.”
“Crazy,” Ponytail added.
“Totally,” said Tiernan, openly mocking him. Not that he noticed.
“My name’s Toad.” The long-haired one pointed to a silk-screen picture on his T-shirt of a toad driving a car. Underneath it read, “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.”
“And I’m Phred. Phred with a P-H.” The ponytailed one extended his hand.
Tiernan smirked. These guys were priceless.
Alice was the only one to return Phred’s handshake.
“I’m Alice. And this is Tiernan and Summer.”
“You’ve got extremely soft skin, Alice.” Phred grinned, still holding her hand captive.
Alice blushed, slipping her fingers from his grasp. “Thanks. So do you. I mean, your skin’s not too soft. For a man. It’s, like, totally normal.”
As opposed to the way Alice was acting. Someone needed to jump in and save her fast, or the girl might end up drowning in her own words.
“So, what’s it like out in this field?” Tiernan asked. “Is it total hippie bacchanalia, or what?”
“Kinda,” said Toad. Phred just laughed.
Wanda distributed their dinners—a basket of Lucky’s country fried chicken for Alice, Cobb salad (no cheese) for Summer, and a plate of buffalo wings and an orange soda for Tiernan (from the “orange” food group, naturally).
“Maybe we should go stay in the field,” Alice said, chomping into a chicken leg. “I mean, it’s only one night.”
“More like a night mare,” Summer said, under her breath. “Surrounded by a bunch of dirty hippies with greasy, unwashed hair and smelly bare feet? No thanks.”
“Oh, come on. They seem like nice enough guys to me,” Alice said, her voice extra casual.
“Only because P-H Phred wants to get in your pants,” Tiernan whispered.
“Shhh!” Alice put a finger to her lips, glancing over to Toad and Phred’s table to see if they’d heard. Fortunately, the boys were both deeply entranced in a game that involved a fork, a balled-up straw wrapper, and Toad’s open mouth.
“I just figure it’s the simplest option,” Alice continued. “Plus, I might end up going to school with them at UVM if Brown doesn’t let me in.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a great opener,” Summer cautioned. “Hey, guys, guess what? Your school is my safety.”
Tiernan sneaked another look at Toad and Phred just as the projectile straw wrapper pegged Toad in the eye. So, they were a little on the dorky side. But if Alice was into Phred, who were they to put the kibosh on her hookup? Clearly the girl needed all the help she could get in the romance department. And going to a hippie party was bound to be more fun than being holed up in some boring motel room with Alice and Summer.
“My vote is that we stay in the field,” Tiernan announced.
“Great!” Alice smiled, turning her attention to Summer. “I mean, if that’s okay with you?”
“Does it matter?” Summer asked flatly.
Tiernan licked some buffalo sauce off her thumb. “Well, it is two against one.”
“So, my opinion doesn’t even count?” Summer sounded snippy.
“Last time I checked, we still lived in a democracy,” Tiernan shot back.
“Guys,” Alice tried to interject, but Summer wouldn’t let her.
“First off, we don’t even know them,” Summer said. “And second, spending the night at some loud, sketchy hippie-fest isn’t exactly my scene.”
“Maybe instead of just thinking about yourself you should think about Alice,” Tiernan spat. “Not to mention the fact that she’s been driving all day long. I don’t think it’s fair to make her get back on the highway for another thirty miles. Do you?”
Summer sighed, then leaned across the table, whispering, “And neither of you are concerned about heading off into the middle of nowhere with Ben and Jerry over there?”
Alice shrugged. “They said there’s a whole field full of people. It’s not like you have to be their best friends.”
Tiernan stole a french fry off Alice’s plate. “Sometimes the devil that you don’t know,” she said, winking at Summer, “is actually better than the one you do.”
“FINDERS, KEEPERS”
I’M CALLING THE COPS ’CAUSE
YOU STOLE MY HEART
AND NOW.
NOW, NOW.
NOW YOU WON’T GIVE IT BACK TO ME
AND YOU SAID IT’S NOT A CRIME
BUT I’M BETTING YOU’LL DO TIME
FOR TAKING SOMETHING
THAT NEVER BELONGED TO YOU
—from Level3’s second CD, Rough & Tumble