One Week - By Nikki Van De Car Page 0,48

is smaller here too. I tap Jess on the shoulder and give him another granola bar to eat. I haven't exactly been keeping track of how long it's been since he ate anything, but it seems like it's been a while and I'd rather not risk it, especially out here.

Jess gives the package a grimace, but he opens it and takes a bite. “After this is over, I'm never eating granola again.”

“After this is over, I'm never setting foot anywhere without my bag. Which, in the future, will be much more portable.”

Jess snorts. “Yeah, right. From now on you'll carry a backpack and wear sensible shoes and always bring a jacket. The new responsible Bee.”

“I am responsible,” I say, slightly wounded. “This isn't all my fault. And my shoes are sensible,” I say, kicking up a sneakered foot.

“Oh, I don't think this is your fault,” Jess says quickly. “And although I wouldn't mind a ride,” he says, glaring at the passing cars, “I'm actually having a pretty good day. It's kind of restful, this hitchhiking business. And,” he adds, giving me a quick look, “I like you irresponsible. You wouldn't be you if you wore sneakers all the time and planned ahead.”

Hmm. “Okay,” I say. “And I guess you wouldn't be you if you didn't go along with every dumb idea anybody has, even though you know better. Like taking pot for your friends or following me around.”

“I thought you were following me?” Jess says, grinning.

“I guess it's hard to tell who's following who at this point,” I chuckle.

“Whom,” Jess corrects, as if he can't quite help himself.

“Dork.” I grab a bite of Jess's granola bar even though I can barely stand to eat them myself at this point, and take a swig of water. I frown at the bottle. We're getting a little low. I wish I'd thought to refill it before we got back on the road.

We continue walking in silence, neither of us even bothering to stick a thumb out or anything at this point. Nobody seems to care anyway. And so I'm shocked when a beat-up old mustang pulls over.

The driver is a man in his late sixties, and he cranes his head out the window. “Where you folks headed?” he asks.

Jess and I look at each other. Potential axe-murderer he may be, but there are two of us and we're tired of walking. “We're going to Chicago,” Jess calls as we jog up to the car.

The driver scratches his head. “Well now, I'm headed that way. Going to Tiffin, you know it?”

Jess and I shake our heads.

“Small town outside of Iowa City. I got a pal who's a mechanic out there, and he offered to fix up the body work on this here beauty if I could get her out there. So, I'd be going your way, but I'll be getting off of 80 and onto the blue highways. That all right with you?”

Jess and I look at each other and shrug. Neither of us has any idea what he's talking about, but he said he's going our way. That's good enough.

“That's perfect,” I say. “Thanks a lot for stopping.”

“Not a problem. Did a lot of hitchhiking in my day, and I always feel like it's the right thing to do, karmically speaking. I'm Bob Mackey, by the way.”

Jess introduces me as Bee Silver, which strikes me as funny and I have to stifle a giggle. Jess also graciously gives me the window seat and we squeeze together to give Mr. Mackey room to shift gears and, you know, steer. It's a tight fit.

But the car does fly. I've never been in a car like this, and while it's a little eerie hearing the wind whistling up from the floor, and while it is hard to hear over the not-very-muffling muffler, it feels like riding in an actual car, not just a comfortable room that happens to move. It smells a little bit like pot though.

Mr. Mackey tells us about hitching through the Badlands in the middle of August, and how even under those conditions he never had to wait more than twenty minutes for a ride. “Folks were more trusting then,” he says.

“Also they probably figured you'd share whatever it was you were smoking,” Jess whispers. I'm sitting half on his lap, and his breath tickles my ear. I look out the window at the blue highway, which seems to just mean a road with less traffic and nicer scenery. And no tolls. You