26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Paul takes us to Randy’s shop again. It’s early because he wants to get us out of Orrin’s hair, and he needs to get back to Highpoint.
“Shotgun,” Gabe says, walking around to the front passenger door.
I climb into the back seat with Mia and ignore Gabe for the rest of the ride. Or try to make Mia think I’m ignoring him. I’m acutely aware of every move he makes. When he turns his head to look out of the window. When he shifts, trying to get comfortable. When he slings his arm across the back of the seat so his fingertips are only inches from me.
But those fingertips wreak havoc. I don’t look at them either.
There’s not much conversation in the truck, so Paul tunes the radio to a classic rock station for the rest of the ride into Coffee Creek. He drops us with our luggage in front of Randy’s shop. The Jeep won’t be done until tomorrow at the earliest, and Mom woke me up with a terse text this morning. Reservation at motel in Trinity for tonight. That’s all the information I have, and I’m not texting her back for more. I sent her a thumbs up, but the reservation doesn’t matter. I have a different plan, and Leila is on board.
Mia and Gabe head for the office, but I tell them I’ll be there in a minute and wait until they disappear inside before I drag my suitcase around the corner of the garage. The service bay doors are open, and the front end of the Wrangler is already tilted up on hydraulics. I start the recording, making sure it’s in the shot.
“Hey, Leila fans. I had to leave my brand-new-best-sister-ever early because I found one more of our relatives. I don’t want to say who because a girl has to have her surprises.” I give the camera a cheeky wink and hate myself for it, but when I explained the problem to Leila and asked if I could use her channel to crowdfund, she was all over it. She told me how to shoot the video and said to use “big energy.” She’s going to upload my truth or dare video to introduce me then splice this to the end.
I continue the narration. “But this is a huge discovery, and I have until tomorrow morning to go seven hundred more miles and solve the biggest mystery of our DNA. If I don’t make it by then, I may not get any answers at all. But as you can see behind me, there’s a big problem.
“My Jeep ran into trouble. Literally. And I need your help to make this happen. If any of Leila’s stories over the last year have made you laugh, smile, think, or dared yourself to tell the truth or do something brave, would you be willing to help us find the truth about our roots? Every contribution helps. Just click the PayUp link. If I can get to San Diego, I promise you an amazing story!”
I try to make it sound like I’m inviting them all to be part of the experience, not begging them for money. I watch it back and it sounds okay. I send it to Leila to edit and walk into the service bay after she texts back a thumbs up. A loud pneumatic hiss leads me to Randy on the other side of the Jeep.
I clear my throat. “Hey. Could we negotiate on the cost and timeline?”
He straightens and squints at me across the hood. “What you got in mind?”
A few minutes later, I have a new estimate and payment plan, another hurdle out of the way. Then I join Mia and Gabe in the waiting room. I won’t tell them about the new plan yet until I’m sure it will work. They’re on their phones. Mia doesn’t look up from hers, but Gabe does. His effort to stay casual is almost tangible.
I last about five minutes in my plastic chair. I hop up to pace, refreshing “Truth or Dare with Leila” endlessly, waiting for the video to post. And for donations to pile up.
There’s nothing yet, and phase one of this plan requires enough money to bribe Jean into letting Paul off work long enough to drive us seventy miles into Redding. From there, we can catch the 1:00 PM. bus to the train station in San Francisco. There’s an overnight train—a fourteen-hour ride—but it’ll get us to San Diego in time. That’s going to cost forty dollars each plus another forty for Paul for the time and gas.
I check YouTube. The new video is up. Good. If even ten percent of Leila’s Truth or Dare followers kick in ten dollars, I can make this trip happen. But the money needs to show up in the next couple of hours, or I won’t even make it out of Coffee Creek.
I sit and watch the page views climb. By 9 AM, it’s at 512 but there are no donations yet. I get up and pace again.
“Settle down,” Mia says. “You can’t make Randy work any faster by pacing. You’re just making us dizzy.”
Gabe stands. “You need your coffee, Mia. Let’s find some breakfast.”
He’s heading for the door when his and Mia’s phones blow up, his with a flurry of text alerts and hers with a call.
“Daniel,” she tells Gabe, checking the screen.
“Adrian. And Carlos,” he answers. Another beep and he grimaces. “And Alex.”
That’s every Sandoval brother.
“You answer,” Mia says, shoving it toward him. “I’m scared.”
Mia’s phone quits ringing and Gabe’s starts. “Hey,” he says to whichever brother is on the phone. “What’s u—”
He falls quiet for a second, then presses the phone against his chest and gives me a look. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean what did I do?”
“My brothers all know we’re stuck in Coffee Creek, and they are losing their minds.”
“Kendall . . .” Mia’s tone holds a warning. Gabe steps outside to deal with whichever brother is yelling at him.
I check my phone again, going through all my alerts until I get to one from Instagram. Leila posted about the Jeep drama on Instagram and tagged all three of us.
That’s . . . bad.
I rub my hand over my face. I didn’t expect her to tag Gabe and Mia too.
“I figured out how to finish this trip,” I tell Mia. Her face darkens. “No, listen, it’s a good plan. Leila said she’d post it on her channel and help me crowdsource . . .”
Mia is already opening YouTube and Leila’s voice floats out. “I hope you all fall in love with Kendall like I did. I lucked out to find the best sister ever.”
I stay silent while Mia watches the rest, letting the video explain for me. “How did your brothers see this?” I ask when it finishes.
“Daniel’s girlfriend, Mandy, saw it,” Gabe says, stepping back in. “A few people followed Leila’s mention of me on Instagram to my profile and made comments on my last picture which was just an old shoe. Mandy couldn’t figure out why it had so many comments but then one of them mentioned Leila, Mandy followed it back to her, and then she saw the video informing the whole world that I let you guys get stuck here. My brothers are threatening to end me if I don’t get you home,” he says to Mia.
“You didn’t ‘let’ me do anything,” I say. I know there are many levels to this problem, but I resent the implication that I haven’t been literally and figuratively driving this whole trip.
“Not now,” Mia says. “I don’t think you understand how dead Gabe and I are now that my brothers know what we’re doing.”
“But I have a plan,” I say. “A good one.”
“Your last ‘good plan’ is what landed us in this mess in the first place,” she growls.
Gabe takes her elbow and nudges her toward the door. “Let’s hear Kendall out and get you some coffee.”
“All right, start talking,” she says when we hit the sidewalk.
I explain my truck/bus/train plan. “I have enough in my bank account to pay Randy most of what I owe him, and he says he’ll let me send the rest if I do it within thirty days. But it’s going to cost a little over a hundred for each of us for the bus and train tickets plus a hotel tomorrow night. That’s where the crowdfunding comes in, and Leila boosted my signal.” The PayUp cash register alert sounds on my phone. “See? Her followers want to help.”
“No,” Mia says. “All of this was the worst possible idea. I should have listened to my gut about even coming on this trip.”
I need Mia to stay on my side. If she calms down, she’ll back me. I point to a café a few doors up. “It says they have fresh donuts. Let’s get some food and figure this out.”
Mia stops and sniffs the air. “Fine.”
We walk to the café in silence, and the waitress waves us toward a booth. I slide in, but Mia sits beside Gabe instead of me. I try not to let that stress me out. We read the menus in silence, and when the server comes, I order a cheese omelet and she and Gabe get pastries.
“Bear claw,” Mia says. “For strength when my brothers try to kill me.”
“Omelet with avocado,” I say. “Because I think that’s what California beach people eat.” Nobody smiles.
Gabe orders a stack of pancakes without commentary, too busy reading and answering the torrent of texts from his brothers.
A strained quiet falls over the table. Mia won’t look at me.
“Um, I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be back.” I don’t even need to pee. I just need to escape the tension. But it’ll be okay. They’ll see. I check Truth or Dare in the stall, and it’s up another hundred views already. I check my PayUp balance next, a new energy zipping along my nerves. This is going to work.
It’s only a handful of donations, but it’s a hundred dollars so far. Not as much as I hoped, but if I can double that in the next hour, I’ll have enough to pay Paul and get our bus tickets to San Francisco, which buys more time to get the money for the train tickets south.
When I get back to the table, Gabe meets my eyes with a weary sort of defeat in his, and Mia’s jaw is set in a hard line.
“We’ve got a hundred bucks already,” I announce.
“ We don’t have anything,” Mia says. “You do. But you should save it for Randy. We need to go home.”
“The rest will come,” I argue. Another PayUp alert sounds.
“That’s not the point,” Gabe says. “My brothers want us home now. They say if we get on the road as soon as the Jeep is fixed and come back, they’ll tell our parents that they were on board with the plan. Mom is going to be so mad, but if she thinks they all signed off on it . . .”
Mia nods. “She’ll be equally mad at all of us, but since she can’t ground them, she won’t ground us because it wouldn’t be fair.”
The server arrives with our order, and I eat my omelet mindlessly, my thoughts chasing themselves. I’ve been worried about Mia and Gabe getting in trouble since Mom’s eruption last night. There’s no way she’s not telling the Sandovals what happened. But if the boys back them up, it keeps Gabe and Mia out of trouble. Or out of as much trouble. I should be glad about this. Instead, it hurts.
I set my fork down and push my plate away.
“Bad omelet?” Gabe asks.
“Bad taste in my mouth.” I can’t keep the frustration out of my voice.
Mia sputters on her coffee and thunks down her mug. “Are you mad at us?”
I glare at her. “I thought you understood how important this trip is to me.”
She gives me a confused look. “I do.”
“Really? Because it sounds like you’re quitting.”
Her eyes bore into mine. “I forgot. It only matters if it affects you . I’m a side character in your story. Well, in my story everything goes to hell in the next chapter if I don’t head back home. But I guess that doesn’t matter to you.” She takes another big slug of coffee and slides out of the booth. “I’m done.”
I want to stop her, make her see and change her mind, but if she doesn’t understand by now, I don’t know what else to say.
She walks out of the restaurant and I watch her go.
Gabe scoots to the edge of the booth too. “I do get it. But we have to go home.”
“Fine,” I say. “I only have enough for my own tickets anyway.”
“You can’t go by yourself.”
I lean forward. “You’re mistaking me for your sister again. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Your brothers don’t get to tell me what to do. You guys can go back and do your family bonding. I need to go seven hundred more miles for even the whisper of a chance to do the same.”
“This is exactly why your mom and my brothers are so furious right now,” he says, leaning forward too, his face tight. “That’s completely irresponsible. It’s bad enough you took this road trip without telling your mom, but now you’re going to go by yourself, cross California on public transportation, and show up unannounced to meet a stranger who has made it clear he doesn’t want to meet you? Do you hear how insane that sounds?”
What happened to the pretty words from last night? I’ll back you if you want to find your family . Yeah. Back me until the first sign of trouble. I want to shame him for turning on me so quickly. But I slide out of the booth instead. “I’ll pay the cashier. I need to get back to Randy’s Wi-Fi and start booking my tickets.”
“You’re still not getting it,” he says. I stop and face him. “You asked what I meant when I said my Jeep came with strings attached. Our parents expect us to live a certain way. They say we come from too many generations who worked too hard for us to be the screwups. And they control us with purse strings. If I don’t do exactly what they want, then it all goes away. Tuition. The car. So I major in finance instead of theater design. They do it out of love and worry, but they’re still strings.”
It surprises me to hear it, but it makes me mad too. “I’m figuring out my own way, Gabe. You can too. You don’t like the price, then don’t pay it. Don’t drive the Jeep. Get a job and put yourself through school. Choose something different.”
“If it was about the money, I would. But I won’t ever hurt them like that. I don’t expect you to understand family loyalty though. Not after the way you’ve handled your mom.”
It’s a low blow. I’m so angry my voice shakes. “You said last night I should go looking for my family.”
“Doesn’t mean I think you’re doing it the right way. And now that it’s going to hurt my parents, it’s definitely the wrong way. It’s time to be done, Kendall.”
“Oh, I am. With you.” I drop some cash on the table and walk out, determined to get my suitcase and wait for Paul outside. By myself. I don’t need the Sandovals. Any of them.
Mia ignores me when I walk into the office, pretending to be interested in a tattered copy of Motor Sport .
Gabe walks in a few minutes later and immediately dives into texting.
I arrange to go to Redding with Paul. He’ll have to be here by 11:00 if I’m going to make it, and Jean’s text promises he’ll make it but barely.
That’s the first huge hurdle out of the way. Without a ride from Paul, none of the rest works. I’m halfway through booking my bus ticket to San Francisco when the door opens again. I look up, worried it’s a customer who will take Randy’s focus from the Jeep.
I blink. Do it again.
It’s Austin Dunn.
I only ever see him at Friday dinners, his hands scrubbed, dressed in a polo shirt and clean jeans. He’s in his work clothes this morning, a navy shirt and pants, Dunn Auto name patch sewn to his front pocket.
It says “Austin,” so even though it doesn’t seem possible, it must be him, standing there, nervously jingling a set of keys and giving me a shy smile. “Is it okay that I came?”
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“I called Randy last night. He was cool with letting me work on the Jeep with him, so I got a flight into Redding, then rented a car and drove here. Should have the body work done by dinner.”
I’m so overcome that I’m losing words. “I can’t believe you did this.”
His face turns anxious. “Sorry, I just . . . we were worried about you being stranded for a couple of days. Maggie’s a wreck, and we figured we could get you on the road sooner. Cassidy said you might be mad.”
“No!” The word bursts out of me fast and loud, and he takes a step back. “No,” I say, more calmly. “I’m not mad. Not at you.” Cassidy still, yes. She could have done all of this without narcing to Mom. “This is amazing. But Randy said he can’t get the part he needs until tomorrow.”
Austin smiles. “I think we’ve got that worked out too.”
Randy pokes his head through the service door. “You Austin? Come on back.”
Austin nods. “Sure thing.” He turns to follow but pauses. “I know this probably sounds super weird, but I can drive back with you guys if you think it’ll make Maggie feel better.”
“She’s not going back,” Gabe says.
Austin shoots him a confused glance.
“Kendall here has decided that it doesn’t matter if everyone is freaking out. It doesn’t matter that staying on this trip will end mine and Mia’s lives as we know them. Kendall crowdfunded and now she’s hitching a ride with a pot farmer to a bus depot to get her to San Diego anyway.”
“Kendall?” Austin’s forehead wrinkles. “Is that true?”
“He’s making it sound worse than it is,” I told him. “But yeah, I’m leaving in an hour. I hope you’ll still fix the Jeep. Please? Because Gabe and Mia need to get back, and I’d feel so much better if they get out of here a day earlier.”
Austin’s face looks the same way Carlos’s does any time a boy comes over to hang out with us at Mia’s. “That’s not a good plan.” He winces, like it pains the normally low-key Austin to offer a negative opinion. “Maggie is really worried. And that doesn’t sound safe. At all.”
“I’ll text her every two hours.” This doesn’t change his expression. “I’ll make it a group text and include you too.”
He slides his hands into his pockets with a slow shake of his head. “I’m sorry, Ken. If you don’t stick with these two, I’m not doing the repair.”
I want to yell at him that it’s not fair. It’s so frustrating to have another solution dance in and right back out of range again. But I keep my voice steady and say, “I understand. It doesn’t change anything. I’m still going to San Diego.” I angle myself toward Gabe, away from Austin. “I’m so sorry about this, but I still don’t have enough from PayUp yet. I’m short two hundred bucks. I’ll give Randy what I can, and if more comes in, I’ll send that to him too. But you’re going to have to ask your brothers to bail you out. Paul will be here in a half hour to pick me up. I’m going to wait for him outside.”
I stop at the door and turn to Austin. “I’m sorry you came all this way. I don’t know how to make everyone understand how much I need to do this.”
I slip outside and walk to the empty shop next door. A lockbox guards the door handle, and half-scratched off gold lettering on the glass says it used to be a barbershop. There’s a worn bench in front, its middle slat missing. I sit and watch the road from Highpoint for the Explorer. The street is empty. An insect buzzes somewhere, a tired buzz, and it speaks for me.
I curl my hands around the edge of the bench like it’s going to keep me from washing away on the tide of anxiety that wants to drag me along through the dusty road. It’s spring. It’s wrong for the roadside to be so dry and lifeless.
A few minutes later I hear footsteps on the sidewalk from the direction of the garage. I don’t turn around because I don’t know who I want to see less: Gabe because I’m angry or Austin because I’m ashamed.
“We’re going with you,” Mia says.
I whip my head around. I stare at her for five full seconds, trying to make sense of her words. “You are?”
She nods.
“Oh my gosh. Thank you. Thank you so much.” The words gush out like foam from a fire extinguisher, smothering the growing fear that this whole trip had been about to fall apart.
“Don’t thank us.” Her voice is hard, and the flood of relief dries up immediately. “We all agreed it’s the only way to keep you safe. Austin is worried about you going off by yourself, so he says he’ll fix the Jeep.” I start to smile, but she snorts. “The Jeep is nothing. You broke way more than that.” She turns to walk off.
“I thought you got it,” I say. She stops. “I thought you understood why family is so important to me.”
“You don’t act like it is. I’m not sure it’s your own family that really matters to you. Not based on the way you’re treating your mom. Not based on the way you’re going after my family.”
It lands like a slap. “What are you talking about? My mom lied to me my whole life about who I am. The least she can do is let me find the answers. And what do you mean, I’m going after your family?”
“You think I don’t see you making a play for Gabe like every other girl who’s used me to get to him?”
It’s the most unfair of all her accusations. “That’s not what—”
“It fits your pattern,” she cuts me off. “It’s selfishness. Everything is about your happiness, your needs. Cutting off your mom because she doesn’t tell you exactly what you want to know. Going after my brother even if it means losing me. Finding a sperm donor who doesn’t want to meet you.” She shoves her hand through her hair and takes a deep breath. “When did you become this person, Kendall? Why are you throwing away the family you have for some dude who doesn’t care?”
She stalks back toward the garage.
I sit, stunned, watching her go. I’m not the person she described.
Am I?