14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Mia wakes up hungry in Barstow, California after a three-hour nap, so I google the best and cheapest place to eat and find a total dive. Just like in Adobe, the scruffiest places make the best tacos, and I’m only one bite into mine when Mia shouts, “Death Valley!”
“Clown Motel,” Gabe counters.
I set down my street taco and glance around the crowded outdoor tables at the stares Mia has drawn.
“Clown Motel?” I repeat. They’re trying to find places to stop along the way to Bend in case we end up with time to kill before we hear back from Powder_fresh. Gabe hands me his phone. There is a clown-themed motel in some place called Tonopah. I hand it back. “No.”
“You didn’t even look at the map,” he objects.
“Shut up, Uber.” But I can’t give it the same venom I used to. “Clowns are an automatic no. Also, this might be life-changing,” I say around a mouthful of carnitas.
“The clown motel?” Gabe asks.
“This taco.”
“Amen.” Mia crosses herself and finishes off her own.
“California isn’t what I thought it would be, but this taco evened up the score,” Gabe says.
“What did you think it was going to be?” Mia asks.
“More bikinis and convertibles, less tumbleweed.”
California always conjured images of palm trees and beaches for me, but while we’ve seen a lot of palm trees, so far they’re growing out of desert landscapes that aren’t much different than Arizona. The taco stand shares a chain link fence with a used car lot selling a dozen cars older than Pickle, neon prices sticking to their windows. The surrounding businesses are just as rundown. Cracked paint, vacant store fronts, weeds growing out of the concrete in empty lots.
“How about I get to pick where we go because it’s my road trip?” I reopen the Wikipedia article I pulled up about California, hoping we find the better parts of it.
Mia leans toward me. “How about I get to pick because this road trip hasn’t been anything you promised so far?”
The bite in her voice is back, the one that appeared in Tempe. I want to de-escalate but her accusation confuses me. “I didn’t make any promises except that I wouldn’t make you drive. How could I? I had no idea what would happen.”
“You said this was going to be about empowerment and best friends. And you straight up kicked me out of the restaurant the minute you met your brother.”
“I didn’t kick you out!”
“What would you call it?”
“You were monopolizing the conversation!”
Gabe clears his throat. “I’m going to get something. Something that is not here.” He stands and wanders away, but I don’t pay attention to where because I’m too mad.
“Where did you go as soon as you left the restaurant?” I ask her. “To Gabe?”
“Well, yeah.”
“The brother you already have? Not to mention the other four? Is it so bad that I wanted my one half-brother to talk to me instead of you for a few minutes?”
“Then you should have talked!” she says, her eyes flashing. “You just sat there all awkward, saying weird stuff and babbling about cleats. I was trying to help you.”
“You were hijacking the conversation. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”
“It’s not my fault you don’t know anything about baseball.” She crumbles up a napkin and releases it in her empty taco tray like it’s a mic drop.
“Maybe you could have picked something I do know about.” I take an angry sip of my horchata, a cinnamon rice milk drink I’ve learned to love from the Sandovals, but it’s gone, and I make a loud slurping sound.
“I was trying to break the ice.”
“More like icing me out.” I shake the horchata in frustration.
She stares at me. “Did you . . . did you just make an ice pun with sound effects?”
“What? No, I—” I glance down at my empty cup. “Yes. But on accident.”
She scowls at me. “How am I supposed to stay mad at you when you do that?”
I scowl back. “You shouldn’t be mad at me in the first place.”
We sit in silence for about ten heartbeats before she sighs. “You hurt my feelings when you kicked me out of there like I was Maverick getting into your makeup.”
“It hurt my feelings when you guys weren’t including me in the conversation, but you’re right. I could have handled that better. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I monopolized the conversation.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
The words are so easy for Mia that she’s made them easy for me too over time. At least with her. “I love you too.”
She straightens and a big smile flashes on her face. “Great. Does that mean I get to pick where we go today?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Give me three choices between here and Redding up north, and I’ll pick one.”
“Yay!” Then she frowns. “I don’t want to put my tacos down to research.”
“I understand. I can wait.” I pick up my next taco—carne asada—and eat the whole thing in four bites. “Never mind. I’m going to sew a blanket out of napkins and sleep on this bench so I can live near these tacos.”
She grins at me. “Make me a blanket too.”
We eat in silence for a while before Mia stirs at last. “All right. Death Valley, Manzanar, and the biggest tree in the United States.”
I’ve seen enough desert to last me forever, so Death Valley is out. I don’t know what Manzanar is, but I don’t need to. She’s said the magic words.
“Biggest tree.”
“Let’s go.” But her suggestion has no oomph behind it. The afternoon sun streams down, and if I close my eyes, California feels like I imagined it would. I rest my chin on my hand and fall into a light doze, soaking up the warmth. I startle awake when arms slide around my waist. Mia smirks at me across the table, and as I grasp at the arms, rough hair brushes my palms. Gabe is . . . hugging me?
I whip my head around to stare at him, but he’s already let go and backed away. “Guess I don’t have to carry her.”
“You were out cold,” Mia says.
“How long?” I’m disoriented the way I am after a two-hour Sunday nap.
“Ten minutes, maybe?”
Ten minutes? I shouldn’t be so out of it, but as Gabe tosses the keys to me wearing a half-smile I don’t understand, I miss the throw, and I know it wasn’t the nap that disoriented me. It was the feel of Gabe’s arms, his chest against my back for a brief second as I woke up. Snap out of it.
I scoop up the keys and head toward the Jeep.
“Are you even okay to drive?” Mia asks.
“I have to be, don’t I?”
“It’s your job to keep her awake, Gabe.”
“Norwegian death metal.” He nods. “Got it.”
My phone vibrates with an alert from Instagram. “Powder_fresh answered my message, guys.” Nerves and excitement chase the tacos around in my stomach. “She said hi. What do I say?”
“What did you say in your first message?” Gabe asks.
“Hi.”
Mia gives me a strange look. “How have you not been thinking about this since Tempe?”
“I have. But I haven’t come up with anything.”
She shrugs and climbs into the back seat again. I lean against the car door to tap out a reply. “Hi. So . . . have you checked your RootsDNA results lately?” It worked with Seth. Maybe it will work with her. I wish I could sit and wait there for her to respond, but I don’t want to spend the whole afternoon in this town.
I climb into the driver’s seat as Gabe takes shotgun. After three hours, I’m comfortable behind the wheel, and I get us on the freeway without thinking about it much. I like the way the Wrangler drives, rough but steady. It’s way more fun than my Mom’s lumbering sedan.
“Mia?” I call, but when I glance in the rearview, she’s got her earbuds in and a book open on her chest.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask Gabe.
“Sure, Barrows.”
“Could you watch my phone and let me know if any messages come in from my . . . from Powder_fresh?”
“Sure,” he says. He sets my phone on his thigh. For the next hour, Gabe takes his job of keeping me awake seriously. I feel his eyes on me often, and every fifteen minutes or so, he asks, “Doing good?”
We pass a quiet half hour except for the sound of the radio, and I think of what I’m going to say to Powder_fresh. I don’t want to screw it up like I did with Seth.
“Kendall.” Gabe says my name like he doesn’t want to startle me.
“I’m awake.”
“No, it’s . . . you got a message from your sister.”
I squeeze the steering wheel. “What does it say?”
“You want me to read it?” He sounds like I asked him to read off the nuclear launch code sequence.
I pull over on the shoulder before taking my phone.
Hi. So . . . have you checked your RootsDNA results lately?
Just did. Hi. Trying to be cautious here. Have you figured out how we’re related?
I met Seth. Hi. I’m Kendall.
The typing dots appear, and I tap the sides of my phone while I wait for her reply. I know she’ll answer, so I’m not sure where my nerves are coming from.
I was getting tired of being the only girl on the crew, lol. Welcome. I’m Leila. Nice to meet you.
Leila.
I have a sister named Leila. A sister who just welcomed me to her crew.
Her words feel like a note slipped in class—fourth grade—when playground hierarchy is determined by who you play four-square with at recess, and the coolest girl in class just invited me to play.
I’m trying to figure out what to say next when a new message appears.
I’ve been looking through your IG. You seem cool.
Thanks. I like your IG too.
Would it be weird to talk? Like on the phone?
As if there is anything I could want more in this moment. It’s cool , I tell her and send her my number. My phone rings a few seconds later, and I cut the engine and climb out to take the call in privacy.
“Hi,” she says when I answer. “This is Leila.” Her voice is higher than mine but mellow and warm.
“Nice to meet you. Sort of,” I amend. “Not sure the phone counts.”
“It counts. Um, so your profile on RootsDNA looks new. Were you expecting to find siblings?”
“No,” I said. “A lot of this is a shock.”
“How weird is it to find out your half-sister is half-Persian?” I hear the trace of a laugh in the question.
“I wasn’t sure it was you,” I admit, trying to process this information. I don’t think I’ve met a Persian before. “And I was bummed when I thought it might not be.”
“It’s me,” she confirms. “And if your experience goes anything like mine, every step of this process will feel weird. But cool,” she hurries to add. “It’s cool every time I find another sibling. You’re the third. So tell me about you. Where do you live? How old are you? I'm twenty."
"Adobe, Colorado and I'm seventeen."
"Nice. Do you snowboard?"
"Different part of Colorado. Also, um…" I clear my throat. “I think I’m about to make this situation weirder, but I’m hoping you’re getting extremely normal vibes from me.”
“All right. Hit me.” Her voice has more curiosity than caution in it. It reminds me of Mia.
“It happens to be my spring break, and we took a road trip down to Tempe to meet Seth. I figured out that you’re in Bend. I was wondering . . .”
“You want to come here?” Her voice has a new crackle of energy in it.
“We just left Barstow, California.”
“Hang on.” There’s the sound of fumbling, then, “You’re like fourteen hours away. Is that too far?”
I can’t help a short laugh. “I’ve already crossed three state lines. A few more hours won’t matter at this point.”
“Seriously? Oh my gosh, that would be so awesome. So, tomorrow?”
“That works. We’ll stop in Redding tonight and drive the rest of the way in the morning.”
“We?”
“My best friend and her brother are with me.”
“Sounds fun,” she says. “I work tomorrow morning. Do you feel comfortable coming to my house after my shift? I live with my parents, if that makes you feel better. I’m done at 3:00.”
“Sure,” I say. She’s so different from Seth. Her energy feels more intense, and she sounds more excited about this than he did.
“Okay, my break is almost over, so I’ll text you my address and plan on tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” I say. And then because I don’t want to play it cool like I did with Seth, I add, “I’m excited.” Because I am. I have top-of-the-waterslide butterflies.
“Me too! Okay, I’ll text!” She mumbles something to someone then adds a “Bye” and hangs up.
I pull up her Instagram profile again and study her face, her happy grin squished up against her little brother’s. My sister. A smile tugs at my lips as I climb back into the Jeep. Even when Mia doesn’t glance up from her phone to find out what happened, the smile stays.
“So . . .?” Gabe asks.
“So I have a sister named Leila.” It makes me smile bigger.
“Sisters are overrated,” he says.
Mia kicks the back of his seat, and he reaches back to grab her ankle and squeeze until she shakes him off.
“See?”
“I’ve always wanted one. And she says she’d love to meet up tomorrow.”
He rebuckles his seatbelt. “Then let’s do this.”
The first two hours out of Barstow show the same brown landscape with the same distant brown hills. Or maybe mountains. An hour north of a dusty city called Bakersfield, trees encroach on the highway again, and it even winds beside a long, narrow lake pushing right up against the road shoulder.
Mia calls for a bathroom break at a rest stop and takes shotgun when we get back to the Jeep.
I’m surprised by how fast I’ve gotten used to having Gabe up front with me. It feels strange that he isn’t there. I glance in the mirror to see how he’s adjusting, wondering if it feels weird to him too, but he’s looking out the window. Of course he is. Why would he suddenly miss me?
Stupid.
Why do I “miss” him? He’s the same distance away.
Mia grins at me as she buckles her seatbelt. “This is so much better than if we had done this in Pickle.”
I gasp. “How dare you speak of Pickle that way? I love her.”
“More than cruising in a sexy Jeep around these sexy road curves?” she asks.
I run my hand over the top of the steering wheel, then curl my fingers around it, a smile tugging at my lips. “Maybe not. But it’s time to do it with the windows down.” I pull my hair into a ponytail, slide on my sunglasses, put the Jeep in gear, and get us back on the highway.
“Yes! It’s almost the full California road trip experience,” she calls over the wind. She pulls up a song on her phone and cranks the volume on Tupac’s “California Dreamin.’”
I laugh and push the Jeep to seventy-five in a smooth series of gearshifts. I feel like a race car driver. I see why Gabe loves driving this thing.
I glance back at him, about to apologize for his stolen driver’s license again, but the words die on my lips. His eyes are trained on me in the rearview mirror. They’re narrowed like he’s studying me, and there’s the tiniest upturn to the corner of his mouth. We stay locked that way for a few seconds until a wind gust pulls some of my hair loose from my elastic, tacking it to my lips, pressing strands across my nose. In a very smooth move, I tug it out of my face, spluttering when a few more strands whip into my mouth.
Gabe shakes his head. “I don’t ever have that problem.”
I sigh and start rolling up the window.
“No,” Mia protests. “Full California road trip experience, remember?”
“We’d have to shave my head first.”
She grumbles but puts her window up too.
“I can help,” Gabe says. He scoots forward and sets his hands on my shoulders. “Tell me if this is too distracting, but it should only take a few minutes.”
“What are you—” But the words dry on my tongue when he reaches up and slips out my hair tie.
“French braid,” Mia says. “My mom made all the boys learn so they could help with my hair for games and stuff.”
Gabe combs his fingers through my hair, softly separating tangled pieces. He even knows to hold it above the tangle as he picks the knot apart, and he doesn’t tug.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe while he does this.
I can’t breathe while he sections it into three parts and begins the braid.
I can’t breathe when his hands brush against my ears as he scoops up the next piece to weave it in.
I can’t breathe when his fingertips brush my neck as he works the braid down.
I can’t breathe because it’s back. All of it is back. All the old crush feelings are back and pressing down as hard as they did the first time.
Goosebumps pop out all over me as his fingers stir the fine hairs at my nape. I don’t want him to see. But I also don’t want him to stop. Every touch is fire.
So I only breathe in the tiny moments where he isn’t touching my skin.
Finally, he twists the elastic around the end and runs his hand down the braid to settle it before he sits back.
“Not my best work, but it’ll hold.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything.
“Tell him thank you, dummy,” Mia says.
It’s the thing I needed to break the spell, but I have to swallow before I can force myself to say, “Thanks.” I hope neither of them notice how husky it sounds.
“Windows down!” Mia orders, and when I turn to press my button, I catch Gabe’s reflection in the sideview mirror, staring out of his window and frowning.
The wind pours in again, and the braid holds.
But the rest of me has fallen apart.