Page 2 of A Real Goode Time

I had none of that, and no special friends. I was always just…there, at home.

Then, one by one, everyone left home. Charlie for college and life on her own, Cassie for Julliard, Lexie for U-Conn, Poppy for Columbia University, and then finally even Mom left for Alaska. Leaving me alone in New Haven to fend for myself.

I wasn’t bitter about it, really I wasn’t.

I finally looked over at my roommates. My best friends. “Guys, look. I…I can’t ask them for help and I won’t. I know this is a little nuts. I do. It’s not like I’m some naive little girl hoping to find Prince Charming on a magical road trip adventure. I’m not that girl. I have major creep radar, and I don’t trust anyone. I’m not getting in a car with anyone I don’t have a good feeling about. I’ll be okay. I just…Ihaveto do this on my own. I know you don’t really understand, but I hope you can respect my decision.”

Jillie slid down to sit on the floor across from me. “Of course we understand, Torie. I don’t talk to my family, and Leighton doesn’t have one for all intents and purposes, so wegetbeing independent. But there’s a difference between independence and foolishness. We’re your best friends, Tor. We love you. We just want you to be safe.”

“I will be.”

Leighton joined us on the floor. “You just have to call us every day, okay? Promise. You call one or the other of us every single day, no matter what. If you miss a single check-in, we’re calling the police.”

“Since I’m going across state lines, I think you’d have to call the FBI, and I don’t think they start looking until someone is missing for, like, forty-eight or seventy-two hours.” I zipped up my backpack. “But, yeah, I promise I’ll check in every day.”

“What time?” Jillie asked.

I shrugged. “I dunno. Whenever I stop for the day?”

Leighton shook her head. “It has to be at the same time every day. Like, nine p.m. Eastern. We’re both usually home by then.”

I nodded. “Okay, nine it is. I’ll group FaceTime you.”

“Memorize our numbers,” Leighton said. “So if your phone dies, you can borrow someone’s phone.”

I snorted. “Who memorizes phone numbers anymore?”

“You do, now.”

I laughed. “I don’t think I even know my own number by heart, if you want to know the truth.”

Jillie wasn’t laughing. “You’re always forgetting to charge your phone. And what if you’re, like, not near a charger? You’re doing this with three hundred and thirty dollars, Torie. You gonna get a hotel room? Not likely.”

“Stop trying to freak me out with details.” I tried to make it a joke, but it fell flat.

“Details like where you sleep at night and, oh, random shit like not beingraped and murdered?”

“Would you stop with the raped and murdered shit, Ley? For real.” I tossed the backpack to the foot of my bed and flopped onto my back. “I’m going to make it to Ketchikan in one piece, and on time, for my sister’s wedding. It’s going to be fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than us,” Jillie said.

“Maybe a little bit.”

Leighton lay down beside me, Jillie on the other side. Leighton dug in her jeans pocket, brought out a small Ziploc bag with a single fat green nugget of pot inside. “We’re just as broke as you are, so we can’t give you money, but we went in together to get you this.”

I took the bag and unzipped a corner. Sniffed. “Ohh, wow. No way! This is from Steelie, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Leighton’s voice was tight.

“Ley. What’d you do?”

She pulled out a small glass pipe and a different baggie, pinched a tiny bit off and rolled it between her forefinger and thumb to grind it into the bowl. “Nothing.”

“Ley.”

“What?”

“Steelie’s prices are insane,” I said. “No way you two broke-ass bitches could afford this.”