Chapter Eight
Last night already feels like a hazy memory. An evening plucked from the near future, if it’s any indication of how I’ll spend my time at college this fall. When I think too clearly about what next year could look like, it makes my stomach twist with anticipation.
Yet right now reality hits hard in the bright sunlight peeking out from the clouds as I stand in front of Franklin Hall with a cart full of my sister’s stuff, waiting for Amelia to pull around with the car.
Any bravery I summoned yesterday to question how I feel about Declan has already evaporated with the morning dew.
We load the suitcases into the trunk first, then shove all the garbage bags of extra stuff around them, putting the pillows in the back seat, along with our bags for tonight.
“Did you want to leave anything behind in storage for next year?” I ask, almost as an afterthought, when we look at everything squared away.
“I thought about it,” Amelia says, reaching forward to readjust a bag so it won’t get caught as she slams the trunk closed.
“But I want to sort through everything at home and fly back next year with only the stuff I need. I packed way too much for this year.” She turns this into preachy older sister advice.
“Honestly, whatever you pack, cut it in half and only take main essentials. You’ll accumulate so much stuff throughout the year. Just the free T-shirts alone…”
“That’s months away. I haven’t even thought about packing yet.” I turn and glance down the road toward Delancey Hall. “What time is it?”
Amelia holds her phone up to her face. “Eight fifty-five.”
I squat down alongside the car, stretching my left leg and then my right, not ready to be cooped up for nine hours on the road today. “Do you want to drive first or me?”
“I’ll go first,” she says through a yawn. “Should we find coffee?”
“Since when do you drink coffee?” I ask, eyes narrowed as I reach my hands toward the sky, twisting my back until it cracks.
A white SUV slowly turns in front of the dorm, pulling to a stop on the opposite side of this one-way street, with just enough space for another car to drive between our two vehicles if it needed to get by.
The passenger-side window rolls down, and from the driver’s seat, an energetic Grady in a college-branded polo—looking more ready for a team-building experience on the golf course than a drive across the country—leans across his brother to shout out toward us, “We’re ready to hit the road at nine!”
“I’m grabbing coffee,” my sister calls out. “Want anything?”
Grady lets out a deep chuckle. “But it’s already almost nine…”
Without missing a beat, Amelia counters, “Good thing I’ve still got three minutes. Anyone for coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Grady says, which Declan and I echo.
“Wow, okay. I’ll be right back.” She quickens her step as she rounds the corner toward a coffee cart.
Declan’s hair is a mess of bedhead beneath the raised hood of his sweatshirt. Grady was doubting an early morning, but Declan seems to be the one having the most difficulty being awake right now. Even so, as I stand around my car awkwardly, Declan gives a small sleepy smile and waves me over.
He pulls out a piece of paper with a brainstormed list of ideas for a road trip–inspired game. I sheepishly hold open the dozen bullet points of similar thought I’d gathered on my notes app.
“Should we actually try to put something together for the teams category?” I ask. If someone had told me a week ago that I’d want to work with Declan on a joint submission, I never would’ve believed it.
He hands me his notes. “We might already have it halfway figured out.”
I laugh, taking a closer look at what Declan’s written, but I haven’t shared my own thoughts since I’m more apprehensive to outright hand him my phone again. “I think we could actually pull this off. It probably wouldn’t win, but might as well try, right?”
“Exactly,” he agrees.
Leaning on the open window of his SUV, I catch a gust of cinnamon and peppermint and…nutmeg? “Your car smells like Christmas?”
Declan sluggishly points toward the freshener tag on the air vent, then to another at the center console, and over his shoulder presumably to more in the back among the pile of duffel bags of stuff.
Grady nods, almost proud, not insulted in the least. “Mom buys them in bulk. Might as well keep that holiday spirit year-round, am I right?”
“Sure, why not?” I say, though skeptical.
Do I keep standing here until Amelia gets back?
Should I go wait in the car? Declan is now on his phone, and Grady is just kind of looking at me, perhaps waiting for me to continue the conversation?
Or getting a good look in the daylight at the girl his younger brother wants to spend more time with.
His staring feels more like friendly curiosity than judgment, but it makes me want to vanish into thin air all the same, unsure how to make a good impression.
“Here, I’ve got the address,” Declan says, reaching to plug his phone in to the car and leaving it on the center console.
“But you’ve got my playlist on, right?” Grady asks, nodding toward the radio.
Declan confirms, but he throws a sly wince in my direction. “Driver’s choice.”
“So, Dex says you’re going to be in Indy this fall too?” Grady asks, gently tapping his fists on the steering wheel, unable to sit still.
“I will be,” I say a little too loudly, swinging my arms at my side, trying to act aloof.
“That’s cool. You two can drive home together for breaks and stuff,” Grady says.
That seems to be what finally wakes Declan up. He turns his shoulders toward me, feeling the need to walk back the certainty of his brother’s statement. “If the timing works out, with classes or whatever.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” I say, a little chilled by his sudden indifference. I must’ve been reading too much into our conversation last night.
Amelia walks back with a tall cup of coffee, pausing beside me. “Do you have the address?” she asks them.
The guys nod, so I say out loud, “Yeah, they’ve got it.”
“Do you want to take the lead?” Grady asks. “I’m good either way.”
“Sure,” Amelia says. “We can stop about two hours in at a rest stop to switch drivers?”
“Probably a lot healthier than the long stretches we usually do,” Declan tells Grady.
“Cool,” I say, following Amelia to our car. I peek back over the hood to call out, “Um, just text me if we get separated.” I duck back down into the car and must’ve missed Declan saying something else, because he sends a text.
Declan: Or if I get bored?
Iris: That’s fine too!
On most drives together, Amelia and I usually save Wicked for later on, when we need an adrenaline boost, but she cues it up right from the start.
I honestly couldn’t tell you the actual plot of this musical, but I know almost every word of the soundtrack by heart, and the ones I don’t know, I can vocalize some random sounds that fill in the gaps well enough.
Amelia sings in the car with a lot of confidence, the lyrics increasing her focus on the road during long driving stretches, though at some points in the song, when belting out big moments, she’ll reach her hand across to grab my shoulder theatrically.
I’m glad to be the car in front, where Declan doesn’t have an easy view of me singing my lungs out…
the way I do of him each time I glance back in the side mirror.
At first, he seemed to be slumped against the seat, asleep, but now he and Grady are laughing about something.
When he looks forward, I tell myself to stop wondering if he’s looking at me, because when I look at the cars in front of us, I can never see the people in them clearly.
At the same time, I avoid looking back in his direction as we reach the end of the Wicked soundtrack, particularly during “As Long as You’re Mine. ”
When “For Good” wraps up and we’ve still got another half hour to go until our first rest stop, Amelia asks, “Should we put on a podcast?” She puts a hand to her throat. “My voice is all scratchy after that.”
“You can listen to whatever,” I say. “I’ll stream to my hearing aids for a bit.”
It gives me a headache to listen to spoken audio over the car stereo rather than music, because I need it to be clear and direct for me to actually understand everything that’s being said, which, when combined with the noise of the car and the road, is no easy feat.
But through the Bluetooth on my hearing aids, it’s not as much of a problem.
Also, Amelia chose a celebrity talk podcast, whereas I’ve got a new episode of medical mysteries I’ve been dying to listen to, which my sister doesn’t enjoy because they’re too detailed and make her queasy.
Declan: Whatcha up to?
The corners of my lips curl up. I turn to look into their car, where I find him yawning again, leaning back against his seat and looking at his phone.
Waiting for a response from me? I bite my lip, trying not to look too pleased at this basic message—not that he nor my sister can see my expression right now anyway.
Iris: Listening to a podcast. What about you?
Declan: It’s NPR time…
Iris: Ooh
Declan: He thinks he might be mentioned soon. Well, the professor he helped with a research project will be mentioned, which counts apparently
Iris: Aww I hope they mention him!
Declan doesn’t respond for a while, but when I look back through the mirror, I see Grady low-key fist pumping the air.
Iris: Congrats???
Declan: :gasp: are you spying on us?
Iris: Your SUV shook with joy
Declan: He’s pretty proud of himself. Fair warning, he’s going to have a lot of energy when we stop