how Eileen never cleaned the microwave—and they finished with Claire sniveling and Eileen winning the day with cold logic. That’s precisely how Eileen had expected this fight to go. What she hadn’t expected was Murphy screaming at them from the back seat. In fact, she’d temporarily forgotten Murphy was there.
Now, though, Murphy was undeniable. She’d jutted her head between driver and passenger seat, red in the face, eyes wild.
“You two are the worst,” Murphy proclaimed. “The apocalypse could be happening, and you would care more about your fight. It gets old. Fast.”
Eileen stared at Murphy, wondering whether she should be offended or impressed. Since when had Murphy been this opinionated? Not that Eileen would ever admit as much aloud, but she had never figured out her littlest sister. She was too young, and it took too much effort, and in the end, Murphy had felt more like a house pet than a sister.
Which was a horrible thing to think, Eileen knew. Still, it was the truth.
The truth made her want a drink.
She eyed the glove compartment lustfully.
“Look,” said Murphy, waving her hand in front of Claire’s face. “It doesn’t matter what’s wrong with the van. What matters is it doesn’t work. So we go into town for our food, because that’s what’s important. Capisce?”
Claire wrinkled her nose. “Don’t say ‘capisce.’ ”
“Why?”
“Because it’s annoying, and you’re Irish, not Italian.”
Murphy shook her head at Claire. “And you are an expert at missing the point.”
Eileen hadn’t missed it, though. Murphy was right, and she was kind of a badass. Eileen hadn’t known that this whole time Murphy could’ve done her dirty work by shooting zingers at Claire.
“Right,” said Eileen. “Murph, you wearing good shoes?”
Murphy looked down at her Ugg boots, hand-me-downs from Claire.
“Define ‘good,’ ” she said.
“They’ll do.” Then Eileen eyed Claire’s glitter Keds, which were less than ideal for walking a mile in the rain. That was Claire’s own damn fault, though, wasn’t it?
Eileen got out of the van and Murphy followed suit, circling to join her on the edge of the road. There was no sidewalk here, but considering not a single car had passed them on this road, Eileen figured they could manage the walk without incident.
“Claire, c’mon,” she said.
Claire hadn’t moved from her seat. She was tapping at her phone.
“I’m looking up repair shops,” she said. “It makes sense to hitch a ride with whoever tows us.”
“I’m hungry now,” Murphy whined.
Eileen gave her youngest sister a good looking over. How could she be badass one moment and a baby the next? Had Eileen been this obnoxious at fourteen?
Claire kept tapping her phone, visibly growing frustrated. “None of these open till six thirty or seven,” she said. “Wait. There’s one that’s open, but it’s the next town over, and … huh. The reviews aren’t great.”
“Claire,” said Eileen, “I told you the van is fine. Even if you won’t believe me, we’ll ask at the diner about a mechanic. There’s no point in staying here in the cold.”
“And starving,” Murphy added.
Claire didn’t answer. She kept tapping.
“Claire.”
“Oh my God, I’m coming. I’m looking up the directions to the diner.”
A moment later Claire was out of the van. “Okay. I think we walk that way.”
She pointed down the road.
Eileen gave her a look. “Nice deduction, Sherlock.”
Claire looked around, clearly taking in for the first time that the road away from the bluff was the only road to take. She sniffed proudly and turned up the hood of her coat, walking ahead of the others without a word. Murphy ran to join her, excitedly saying something about cheese.
Quickly, Eileen crossed to the passenger side of the van and, leaning in, opened the glove compartment and removed the flask. She unscrewed the cap and took a swig. The liquid stung down her throat, filling Eileen with sweet relief. She pocketed the flask in her jacket.
It didn’t take long to catch up with the others. Murphy was doing a beatbox version of a Christmas song, and Claire was saying, “Please. You’re not Pentatonix.”
Eileen glanced at Claire’s phone screen, which showed a blue dot moving along their path, down Shoreline Road. Their destination was farther east, on a perpendicular road called Honey Street.
Honey Street. Seriously. The cuteness made Eileen queasy.
“What’d you forget?” Claire asked Eileen.
Eileen stared ahead at a pink-red dawn. “My wallet.”