3.That of all the people in the van, Bex spent the most time driving.
4.That after a whole day in a vehicle with nothing else to snack on, a person really can sick of Peanut M&M's.
5.That even while sleeping in a van, Macey McHenry's hair never gets messed up.
6.That no one mentioned Mr. Solomon's name, not even once.
7.That no one talked about where we were going.
8.That four Gallagher Girls were playing hooky and missing an entire day of class (even with our headmistress's permission).
That, if you drive all night and only stop for essential, the Blackthorne Institute for Boys is only ten hours away from the Gallagher Academy.
Somehow it had always felt much farther.
_____________
"Are you still mad at me?" Zach whispered as we crossed the Pennsylvania border. His leg was pressing against mine, but I didn't think about how if felt, because my mother (who is a spy) was riding shotgun in the front seat, and my roommates (who are future spies) were surrounding us in the van. And besides, it doesn't take a lot of training to know that leg-pressing can seriously divert a girl from little things. Like trying not die.
So I didn't say a word.
"Ohh," Zach whispered. "The silent treatment."
"I'm not talking to you, Zach," I whispered, whirling on him, "because I know you're not going to really say anything anyway. Should I be asking you more questions you refuse to answer?"
As I turned and faced forward again, watched the yellow lines of the highway flying by, I expected more excuses. More lies. But instead, Zach just leaned across me and whispered to Liz, "She's cute when she's silent."
I didn't utter a single word.
Not when he ate the last of the M&M's.
Not when he put his head only shoulder and tried to take a nap.
Not when he and Liz thumb wrestled (despite that fact that I was sitting between them) for better part of the state of Pennsylvania.
Not when Liz and Macey finally fell asleep and he leaned close to me and whispered,
"Are you sure you wanna do this, Gallagher Girl?"\par
Nope. Not even then. I didn't have anything else to say.
At dusk, the silence broke as I heard my mother say, "Pull over here."
Bex pulled into the parking lot of an old gas station by the side of a narrow two-lane highway. Weeds grew up between abandoned pumps. Rusty machines bore the ancient logos of Coke and Pepsi.
We felt utterly alone, but in a split second, all that changed.
A dark car was approaching from the south, traveling way too fast. Tires screeched as it slid sideways into the gravel lot, coming to a stop three feet the bumper of Liz's van.
"Mom!" I shouted, bolting upright, blood pounding in my ears. But before I could fully process the worst-case scenario that was playing through my mind, my best friend sat up straighter too and yelled, "Mom?" a second later, Bex was throwing open the van door and running to her mother, who was climbing out of the other car.
"Hello, darling," Mrs. Baxter said, throwing her arms around her daughter. But I noticed her gaze never left my mother's eyes.
"Anything, Grace?" Mom asked, climbing out of the van.
Bex's mother shook her head. "Nothing. You're clear."
At that moment a white pickup appeared on the deserted road, this time traveling from the north. It pulled into the abandoned station, and somehow I wasn't surprised at all to see Bex's father behind the wheel.