Page 67 of Places We've Never Been

There was a long pause this time before she answered:Is it possible you’re just saying what you think the interviewer wants to hear? Your answers don’t exactly sound like you.

Good. I didn’t want to sound like me. I wanted to sound professional and poised, not like an immature fangirl.I’m saying things they’ll want to know I know. I’m expressing my passion and experience.

Okay. I’m sure you’re right. You know way more about gaming than I do.

Yes, I did, I told myself. I was prepared, more than prepared, for this interview. To her I typed,Gotta run and make sure my mom and Ezra aren’t talking about things they don’t want me to hear.

What do you mean?

I’ll explain later.

K

I took a bite of oatmeal, then picked up the bowl and carried it toward the front of the RV. Just as I was about there, withmy spoon halfway to my mouth again, Ezra looked back from where he sat in the passenger seat and gave me a quick, stern shake of his head. I paused. Then he flicked his hand in a shooing manner. My brows shot down, but his pleading look was on his face.

Really? I was being left out of the loop again?Iwas the one who suspected something was wrong. No, I wasn’t going to be selfish. If he was about to discover something important, I’d let him.

I did an about-face and climbed up into my bunk with my bowl of oatmeal. I sat cross-legged, opened the blinds on the small window, and shut the privacy curtain. Outside, cars on the busy Utah freeway buzzed by. Mom stayed steady in the slow lane.

Texting with Willow reminded me of what Skyler had said about me the night before. I pulled up my Instagram. Post after post was just pics of me with Willow or groups of friends or scenery or food. Did Skyler have a problem with me posting food pics? Did that make me shallow? Sure, I had posted the occasional selfie but that didn’t mean I cared more about my reputation than my friends like he had implied. Was myInstagramwhat had him acting cold toward me from day one?

I huffed out a breath. “Way to forget our entire history over a few social media posts.”

I started to close out Instagram and then hesitated. Before I thought too much about it, I typed Skyler’s name into the search bar and went to his profile. I couldn’t find the pics Willow had sent me. Where had she found them? I scrolled backas far as I could on his page. It didn’t take me all the way back to when he’d left, but close. Most were pics of the scenery or candid shots of older people who I could tell were just random strangers, captured in an interesting angle or light. “Always an artist,” I whispered. I looked in the comments to see they were mostly from me or Austin. It took me a dozen or more posts, representing months of time, until I found another name pop up in the comments section. Was it a stranger or a friend?

Ezra’s head appeared at the edge of the curtain. “Are you talking to yourself in here?”

I hit him on the forehead. “So? What did you find out?”

“A whole lot of nothing.”

“But I thought you were about to learn something and that’s why you shooed me away.”

“I thought so, too, but she kept insisting everything is fine.”

I stirred around my oatmeal, which was getting harder by the second. “Ezra, I overheard you in Death Valley talking on the phone. You said you wouldn’t tell me something. You’re really going to keep pretending you don’t know something?”

“Let’s call Dad,” he said.

“Okay.” We’d been gone a week and I felt guilty that I’d only sent him a couple texts and a pic of one of my drawings.

“FaceTime him,” Ezra said, crawling up into my bed and pulling the curtain closed behind him.

“It’s not really a sound barrier,” I said, nodding at the curtain.

“Just do it.”

I clicked on Dad’s name and the phone started ringing.

“Yellow,” Dad said, his very dad version of hello. His face filled up the screen.

“Hi, Dad.” I waved.

“Oh, look at that, I get both my kids for the price of one. I guess you two aren’t killing each other yet?”

Ezra’s chin was on my shoulder so we’d both fit in the view. “Hey, Pops. How’s it going?”

“Missing you guys. Are you sad you signed up for a three-week trip yet?”