know you must get strange opportunities all the time. But the one I’m about to present will double the value of your property. Maybe triple it.”
There was a long silence. And then Higgins said, “I’m listening.”
CHAPTER 11
I WOKE TO UNWELCOME SUNLIGHT on my face. The tang of diesel. A heaviness in my chest.
I rolled over on my vibrating bed and reached for my phone. It was almost one p.m.; we’d been on the road a day and a half since leaving Mishawaka. A day and a half, and not a single message from Liam. He’d sent the most recent one the morning after we’d made out on that railroad tie:
Last night was better than great.
He’d used my own words, and that had made me feel light, somehow, as if my heart were impervious to gravity. Now it was a bowling ball. I was an idiot to think he’d actually wanted to see me when I got to California. He had felt sorry for me, that was all—but it had worn off, and he had moved on.
I sat up. My head felt full of cotton, my legs lead. I crawled out of bed and looked out the window: barren farmland rushed past, punctuated by rotting barns and corroding aluminum lean-tos. Google Maps put us just outside Elk City, Oklahoma. Dad had stopped for diesel twice since leaving Indiana, which meant our bankroll was almost gone. We were bound for Las Vegas, but we would run out of gas long before we got there.
We had no money, no props, and Higgins’s price was impossible.
When he’d finally understood that I really did want to borrow Dad’s old props, he had begrudgingly agreed to rent them to us—for the outrageous price of five thousand dollars. I accepted—what choice did I have? But now I was back where I’d started: five grand short.
I stumbled to the bathroom, stopped up the sink, and filled it with water. I plunged my face under the surface and counted until my lungs began to burn.
When I emerged a few minutes later, I could hear Dad whistling something old and jazzy. It was piercing to my ears.
“There she is,” he called from the driver’s seat. “I’ve got coffee up here.” He resumed whistling.
I made my way to the passenger seat, dropped into it, and took a sip of tepid coffee. My neurons twitched and slowly came to life.
“You were out for fourteen hours.” He looked over at me with that Concerned Father expression. “Are you all right?”
I got the feeling Dad had been mostly blind to my mother’s mood swings, just as he seemed mostly blind to mine. Even when he managed to detect that something was wrong, he handled me clumsily. Are you all right? he asked, as if my mental health had a check-engine light. Are you all right? asked in a hopeful tone, putting the impetus on me to reassure him.
“I’m fine.” My voice was worn gravel.
I had heard that other parents lamented their teenagers’ defiance. My defiance was a relief to Dad. It excused him from having to worry.
He nodded half-heartedly, accepting my response without appearing to believe it. He was subdued for a moment, maybe out of respect for my dark mood, but after a few minutes he started whistling again. I considered dumping my hot coffee into his lap. That would shut him up. I noticed he was bouncing his knee and realized: he was giddy, probably at the thought of returning to Las Vegas for a two-night engagement. An engagement, I reminded myself, that didn’t exist. There was a real gig coming, of course—but between here and there were five thousand dollars, twelve hundred miles, and one big lie.
I checked my phone; no notifications. Not from Liam, not even from Ripley. I thought of the sink full of water. I fished a pair of gas-station sunglasses from the glove compartment, put them on, and closed my eyes.
We pulled into the Amarillo KOA an hour before dusk, gravel crunching under the tires. There was a cluster of faux log cabins, a sandbox for kids, a pond that would’ve been infested with mosquitoes a month prior. I checked in at the lodge and paid for one night in cash. Got the Wi-Fi password and a key to the restrooms.
I stood in the shower in my faded flip-flops, watching the water circle the mildewed drain. Thirty seconds in, the hot water ran out and ice-cold pins and needles rained down on me. We had run out