says. “Far be it from me to tell you what to wear.”
(And then she tells me exactly what to wear.)
When I come out the front door in a white top and chinos, Hayes laughs. “Triplets!” she says, gesturing at her sparkly, snowy Michael Stars minidress. “Madison’s wearing white too.”
“Interesting choice for a party in a dust bowl,” I grumble. I trudge along behind her and then stop when I see what she’s driving: It’s the SUV again.
“What happened to the Prius?” I ask, getting in.
“We need a real car tonight, sweetheart,” Madison says from the backseat. “Not the eco-can.”
It turns out that she’s right. Hayes takes us flying out of town, north up Route 17, and then down some rural route I haven’t been on before—it’s so old, it makes the truck vibrate. The sun set twenty minutes before, and still we keep bumping into the gloom, with the windows open and the hot air blowing in our faces.
“Sorry, y’all,” Hayes says. “The air-conditioning’s broken.”
I never thought Hayes and Madison would tolerate having their hair messed up like this.
“Is there any water?” I ask, my mouth dry.
Madison hands me a bottle of Vitaminwater from her purse. Besides being way too sweet for my palate, it tastes weird.
“I guess we’re slumming it tonight,” she says when she sees me make a face. “Drink up. There’s no place to get anything out here.”
Suddenly, Hayes brakes hard and turns off the two-lane blacktop into a field.
“Where’s the road?” I cry.
The two of them burst out laughing as the truck lurches and bounces across the dirt. The sugar water is sloshing around inside me; I feel sick. The only thing keeping me from throwing up is the fresh air coming in the window. A horsefly blows in and whacks me in the face. Great.
We blast through some scrub and out onto a sandy logging road in the boonies. It’s pitch-dark, and there’s barely any moonlight. Hayes doesn’t even pause; she just points the SUV straight ahead and steps on the gas.
Suddenly, she stands up on the brakes, and the truck slides to a stop.
“My aviators!” she cries, feeling her hair.
“Your what?” I ask.
“My Marc Jacobs sunglasses. They blew out the window.”
“Boo-hoo,” Madison says.
“They cost a hundred and sixty dollars!”
That’s weird, I think. When did the MGs start keeping track of their cash?
“Well, I’m not going to get them,” Madison declares loudly. “Get them yourself.”
Hayes looks at me pleadingly.
“Okay, I’ll do it.” I pop open the door, grateful to get out into the fresh air. It’s humid outside, and I feel as if I’m breathing through a wet blanket. Crickets are screeching in the woods. As I trot along the dirt road, I can feel a storm building. The air is electric.
Just as I spot Hayes’s sunglasses, it suddenly becomes really dark. I look up in time to see the truck driving away.
Is this a joke? No, because there it goes, bouncing around a bend in the road. I race after the SUV—dreads flopping, legs cramping. But it’s no use. Hayes and Madison are gone.
I stand, panting and sweating, and feel tears sting my eyes. Well. Looks like our “friendship” was a way of getting me to lower my guard, and now this is the punch line. Is everyone out to get me? And how am I going to get home?
I begin to plod up the road. My legs feel like lead, but I keep putting one foot in front of the other. Pick ’em up, put ’em down. Pick ’em up, put ’em down. And that’s when I hear a car behind me.
It’s about fifty yards down the road, creeping along at a couple of miles per hour. The headlights are off, and when I stop, it stops. To my left I spot a ditch at the side of the road—probably the one in which my grandmother and Josie will find me dead. No, no, I’m sure I’m overreacting. More likely than not, this is just a bunch of other kids on their way to the Field. This must be a shortcut or something. I walk toward the dark car and raise one hand.
“Hey!” I shout. “Do you—”
But then the headlights flick on, shooting straight out and pinning me in the middle of the road. I hear the doors open on either side.
Okay, I don’t care what kind of fool I look like. I’ve seen The Silence of the Lambs. I jump the ditch and run.
But the headlights ruined my night vision, and I