KERRI: (To Nate.) We’re gonna have to drive to Blyton Hills because Ms. T here punched a guy through a car and then broke out of prison.
NATE: Okay. (Tries a sip of coffee, then notices the others’ bafflement with his placidity. He looks at both alternately.) Was that supposed to impress me? ’Cause I broke out from a mental asylum like forty-five minutes ago.
ANDY: Okay, I think we have established we have all led intense lives so far; can we please move the fuck on?
KERRI: Whoa, I’m nothing like you two jailbirds, okay? I didn’t break out from anywhere. When I was put in jail I stayed there until they let me out, like a good girl.
ANDY: Wow. Your mom would be so proud.
NATE: I once spent five weeks digging a tunnel out of a clinic where I’d been admitted for two weeks.
ANDY: (After rereading the line above.) Why didn’t you walk out after the two weeks?
NATE: I’d started already; I hate leaving stuff unfinished. On a completely different subject, do either of you happen to carry any anti-hallucination drugs?
(Kerri and Andy look at each other, then back at him.)
KERRI: You’re hallucinating?
NATE: Well, it’s a funny story. I’ve had a few odd episodes before Arkham, so they put me on this drug to get rid of them, and now whenever I don’t take the drug they come back.
KERRI: So you are seeing things.
NATE: Seeing, hearing…sharing combs…
ANDY: (Serious.) Is this gonna be a problem?
NATE: (Stares.) Shit, I don’t know, Andy; tell me: Are you really here right now? (Continues despite her eyeroll.) Is Kerri sitting right beside me? Is there a dog next to you lapping your coffee while you’re not looking?
(Kerri reaches over to slap Tim, drags the cup away from him.)
KERRI: Little fucker, you’ve had enough sugar for three lifetimes.
ANDY: Okay, look, it’s a forty-five-hour drive to Blyton Hills. Do you guys think we’ll have time to go through all our criminal and psychiatric records during the trip? ’Cause if you do, I suggest we grab some sandwiches and leave now.
(They consider the proposal for a second.)
NATE: (Slaps the table.) All right. Let’s do it.
ANDY: Good. (To Kerri.) Make yours a root beer; you’re driving soon.
—
Kerri took the wheel about a hundred miles later, and Andy dozed off in minutes. When she opened her eyes again, the sun ahead was sinking into a trippy pool of purple liquid clouds, and the Chevy Vega and the cast were dyed deep pink. Kerri looked like she did under the UV club lights two nights ago, only bored.
“We need a new radio,” she said, not needing a side glance to confirm Andy was awake.
“The car drives better than it looks,” Nate added, looking up from the crossword puzzle, with Tim resting his head on his lap trying to read the Peanuts strip on the same page. “Did you restore it yourself?”
“Shit yeah, Nate, I did,” Andy said. “Like a good old butch girl; I put on my overalls, grabbed my tool belt, and torqued the shit out of the engine!”
“Jesus, girl, chill out. Just asking.”
“Right, sorry.” She rubbed her face, trying to inhale some of the soothing magic purple air. “Sorry I jumped at you, Nate. No, I didn’t restore it; I just painted it and had the transmission changed. I bought it off an impound auction. And yes, we could use a radio.”
“We can buy one tomorrow before we set off,” Kerri said.
“I just slept, actually; I can drive during the night.”
“No, Andy, I want to sleep in a real bed. Sleepy Lake’s waited for us thirteen years; it can hold on for a couple more days.”
Andy did not object. Her hand, however, palpated the thin lump of a wallet inside her pocket.
“I can still ask my mom for that transfer,” Kerri guessed, again without even glancing in her direction.
“No, it’s okay. I have some money saved.”
NATE: Is that from the time you robbed that bank in Albuquerque?
ANDY: No, Nate, it’s from the time I ass-modeled for your favorite magazine, Amazons in Skimpy Armor.
Nate scoffed, Kerri smiled. Andy felt a little proud of that.
“Hey, anyway,” Nate started, “I was thinking we could save money if we stopped in Portland to see Aunt Margo and borrowed the keys to her place in Blyton Hills.”
“It’s okay, I have the keys,” Kerri said.
Andy nodded approvingly at the plan. Then she thought. Then she noticed this pause was growing awkwardly long. Nate was staring at Kerri in the front mirror, who was just now becoming aware of her slip.
“Why do you have the keys to the house in Blyton Hills?”
“Uh, Aunt Margo gave them to me. I mean, to us.”
“Us? When did this happen?”
“I don’t know, like last Christmas? No, two Christmases ago.”
“I didn’t come home for Christmas two years ago.”
“I know.” Kerri was putting clear effort into playing it down. “Whatever. Aunt Margo had been trying to sell the house for a year and couldn’t find a buyer, so she just gave me the keys. Thought we might like to crash there sometime.”
“You never told me this,” Nate complained.
“I…I just came back, threw the keys in a drawer, and didn’t think about it again.”
“Wait a minute,” Andy requested. “You have the house in Blyton Hills at your disposal and you and Tim were living in that shithole?”
“Okay,” Kerri said, laying out her defense, “first: ouch, feelings. And second, I could not just switch coasts overnight; I had stuff going on in New York!”
ANDY: Working as a waitress?!
NATE: And you told me nothing? Do you know the kind of places I’ve been living in between clinics? My last two roommates were Chechen terrorists and I was the shady one in the house!
KERRI: Right, like you would have considered moving to Blyton Hills just for the free lodging!
NATE: Maybe I fucking would have!
ANDY: Okay, okay, everybody shut up!
Tim curled up in a corner of the backseat, sheltering his penguin from the storm, all tensed up in “scandalized Maggie Smith” pose.
The Chevy hummed its best attempt at elevator music while the passengers cooled down, pined for cigarettes, and mentally calculated the miles to Blyton Hills.
“You’re right, Nate,” Kerri said. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have gone anyway,” he said.
Andy inspected Kerri. The sun visor cast a crisp border across her face between shadow and light; the lower half of her face was purple and soft, the upper half dark and red-eyed.
“I never thought it’d be like this,” Kerri told the road.
“I know what you mean,” Andy replied.
“No, you don’t. I mean—” She sighed, impatient at her own impatience. “I’m sorry. It’s that to us Blyton Hills wasn’t just a summerhouse. Aunt Margo and Uncle Emmet didn’t have any kids, but they built rooms for Nate and me. It felt like home. I never thought I’d be reluctant…not reluctant, unwilling to go there,” she said, pointing at the dying sun.
Andy allowed a respectful silence.
“I know. It wasn’t home to me. It was paradise.”