Page 2 of Road Trip

CHAPTER

TWO

MATT

2728 miles to go

Cape Charles, VA

T he morning of the road trip, I packed everything that would fit into my bags, tucked my sketchbook and pencils in my backpack, left a note for Mom, and then walked out of the Seaview Mobile Home Park without looking back. The name was a misnomer. You couldn’t see the ocean from here. All you could see was a collection of shitty mobile homes that the park owner never fixed when he said he would. But I guess the Crap View Mobile Home Park just didn’t have the potential to bring in those sweet tourist dollars. Mom tried to keep our place nice, and it was probably the least suckful double-wide in the place, but it was a mobile home park, so the bar was set pretty low.

We hadn’t always lived here. We used to rent a place on Sunnyside Road in Cheriton that was nicer, but the landlord sold it and the new owner raised the rent, so for the past three years we’d been in the park instead. Three years ago was right about the time I stopped inviting friends home, except for Jacob. Like, I stopped inviting him too, but he just kept turning up anyway. I was more grateful for it than I wanted to admit.

The walk to Jacob’s place in Cape Charles took about a half hour, but I was used to making it. I normally just jammed my earbuds in and wished myself out of this fucking town.

When I got to Jacob’s place, I went around the back and climbed the porch stairs to the kitchen door, my shoulders sagging under the weight of my bags.

Mrs. Mercer was in the kitchen, wearing her robe over her pajamas. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she was cracking eggs into a bowl.

I knocked on the screen door.

“Jesus Christ!” She did a crazy ninja move with the wooden spoon and then glared at me. “Stop sneaking up on people, Matt! You scared the crap out of me.”

I didn’t point out that I’d knocked. Instead, I opened the screen door and stepped inside. “Sorry.”

I’d spent more time in the Mercers’ house in the last decade than I had in my own place probably. Even when Mom and I had lived in a half-decent place, I’d still preferred it here.

If this was a sitcom, I would have been the quirky but endearing neighbor’s kid who had his own laugh track, was a fan favorite, and went on to star in his own wildly successful spin-off. But this was real life. I’d never been accused of being quirky or endearing, and I sure as hell wasn’t anyone’s favorite. I was just kind of…around. Sometimes Mr. and Mrs. Mercer looked at me like they were wondering what the hell I was doing here again and if I’d ever go home. But a few sideways looks were still better than sitting in an empty house or, worse, listening to Zeke butchering “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on the electric guitar. He had nine guitars and plans to start a band. Zeke also had zero talent, but he didn’t let that deter him. Besides, Jacob ran interference with his folks, so I didn’t cross paths with them too often.

“Is Jacob in?” I asked, which was a dumb question because of course he was. I just wanted an excuse to get out of Mrs. Mercer’s way.

Luke bounced into the kitchen. “Oh, you don’t want to go up there, trust me. ”

But I was already heading toward the stairs.

I was about halfway up them when I met Layla coming the other way, her pretty face screwed up into a scowl and murder in her eyes.

“—because this is our last summer too, Jacob!” she yelled, and her scowl contorted into something even angrier when she spotted me. “I bet this was all your idea, wasn’t it!”

Layla had never truly liked me, even though she’d tried. She was like one of those prey animals in a wildlife documentary that froze when they sensed danger. Couldn’t see it yet, couldn’t even smell it, but they knew something was wrong. I saw it every time her smile faltered when her gaze fell on me or when she forced herself to laugh at a joke I told. Maybe she didn’t know, not consciously, but it was there in her subconscious, setting off warning bells she’d never figured out how to hear: Careful. He wants what you have.

A part of her knew, even if Jacob didn’t.

I shrugged.

“Fucking asshole ,” she said, shouldering past me, and I didn’t know if she meant Jacob or me. Probably both of us.

If I was as much of an asshole as she thought I was, I would have grinned at her or flipped her the bird or something, because hadn’t I just won? Except of course I hadn’t, and I didn’t want to make it blatantly obvious to her that we were in a competition over Jacob. Jacob sure as fuck didn’t have a clue, and there was no way in hell I’d ever tell him—and I didn’t want Layla to figure it out and spill the beans for me. Jacob was all I had. He was all I’d ever had. It was bad enough that after the summer he’d be gone. The thought that he might look at me any differently in the meantime made me sick to my stomach.

Funny.

In all the years I’d known him, he’d never seen how desperate I was to stay his friend because friendship came so easily to him. Not me, though. Without Jacob as a buffer zone, I wouldn’t have had any other friends at all .

Layla stormed down the stairs and right out the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

“Was that Layla?” Mrs. Mercer called from the kitchen. “I guess she’s not staying for breakfast?”

Jacob’s bedroom door was open. He was in his room, pacing back and forth, scowling just as hard as Layla had been.

I dropped my backpack and duffel on the floor with a dull thump, which caught his attention. His expression morphed immediately into relief, followed by guilt.

“Hey,” he said and then cleared his throat and turned away. “I’m just about done packing. Dad and Charlie are in the garage. Dad’s vacuuming the car or something because he does that before every trip, which is dumb, because wouldn’t it make more sense to do it when we get back?” He dragged a hand through his hair, then prodded my bags with one foot. “Holy shit, bro, how much did you pack?”

I shrugged. I’d packed everything, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

“Anyway, Mom won’t let us leave until we eat.”

“Cool.” I sat on the end of his bed between the piles of clothes that might have been meant to go in the duffel bag lying open on the floor or might have been dirty laundry. It was hard to tell.

“I’m pretty sure Layla just broke up with me,” Jacob said, still not looking at me.

I didn’t say anything. Just stared at his wall, at the bookshelf there. I saw books I’d never read but I recognized all the same because of all the nights I’d spent sleeping on the same mattress on the floor that Charlie was sleeping on now. Sometimes I’d lie awake in the middle of the night, listening to Jacob breathing, and reach out to run my fingers along the spines of the books. There was a little Lego rocket ship on the bottom shelf that had been there for years as well. We’d made two that day but lost mine somewhere on the beach. It was probably still there, buried under the sand, salt water filtering through the grains surrounding it whenever the tide swelled in again. It would probably be there forever.

“I think she’s more upset than I am,” Jacob continued. “But hey, we were gonna break up after the summer anyway, so.” He shrugged and ended his words right there on that so , leaving the rest unsaid. Leaving me to try and guess.

“Yeah,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.

Jacob kept moving around his room, keeping his back to me. Not pissed, because if he was pissed he was never shy about sharing it. Guilty for upsetting Layla, I guessed.

Jacob pulled his closet door open and stared inside it for a while. Then he closed the door and finally turned around. Leaning against the door, he met my gaze. He shrugged, mouth twisting into a helpless grimace and finally a rueful grin. “She was pissed , bro.”

“Yeah, I got that vibe when she almost shoved me down the stairs.”

He frowned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was a dick move, forgetting to tell her. I guess she still had stuff she wanted us to do together before summer’s over.”

“Yeah, but there’s no point in beating yourself up about it,” I said, which was a dick move too. I just didn’t want him to be in a shit mood when we started our trip. “She’ll get over it. Like, you’re not all that.”

He gave me a narrow look and then snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. Great pep talk, Matt.”

I flipped him the bird, which made him laugh, and I knew he’d be okay.

“ S o,” Luke said around a mouthful of pancake as the Mercers sat around the big table in the kitchen, “I guess Layla dumped your ass, huh? ”

“Fuck off,” Jacob said, but there was no heat in it.

“Language,” Mr. Mercer said, reaching for the maple syrup, but there was no heat in that either. He looked over at where I was leaning against the counter with a piece of toast in my hand. “Matt, sit your ass down. You’re making the place look untidy.” He’d been saying it for years, but I still didn’t like to sit down without being asked, just in case my standing invitation to sit—ha!—turned out to have an expiration date after all.

I sat between Jacob and Charlie, and Mrs. Mercer slid a plate toward me. I set my toast down on it and pulled the plate closer, and Jacob scooped some scrambled eggs on top for me. Breakfast at the Mercers was an actual meal, not just a couple of Pop-Tarts eaten in front of the TV.

“You think she'll be on the rebound now?” Luke asked, and Jacob shot him a glare across the table.

“Luke!” Mrs. Mercer exclaimed.

“What? I’m only joking! She is super hot, though.”

Chair legs scraped against the floor as Jacob half stood. Luke flailed backward, laughing.

“Luke!” Mrs. Mercer exclaimed again, and then, “Jacob!”

Jacob sat back down, still scowling. “You’re such a dick!”

Sometimes I thought it would have been awesome to have a little brother, just so I wasn’t home alone so much. Other times, like this one, I was glad I didn’t.

The rest of breakfast went more smoothly, but I was itching to get out of here, to get on the road, to have a summer with just me and Jacob and leave everything else, and everyone else, behind. I never wanted to step foot in Cape Charles again. In California, I’d start over. Nobody who knew me here would even recognize me in California, like, I dunno, I’d start to shed my skin the moment Jacob and I got in the car, and by the time we got to the West Coast, it’d all be gone, revealing someone new underneath.

Someone who was going places.

Someone who looked forward, not back.

Someone whose chest wasn’t crushed under the pressure of his loneliness every time he thought about his best friend going away to college without him.

Someone who was into guys and not afraid to admit it.

Someone who wasn’t a pathetic loser.

“So,” Mr. Mercer said. “It’s a long way to California. I want you boys to stay safe. Drive to the road conditions, no speeding, and take lots of breaks. If you’re tired, pull over for a nap.”

“Dad, we’ve been on trips before,” Jacob said.

“Not long ones,” Mr. Mercer said. His brows tugged together, pinching the skin above his nose. “Just be aware of fatigue, okay? Take your time and don’t push yourselves. That’s all I’m saying.”

Jacob and I both nodded seriously because Mr. Mercer was bringing that concentrated Dad energy to the table, and if we grinned or goofed off during this Serious Moment where he was imparting his wisdom, he’d probably make us sit through it all over again.

“And you check in every day,” Mr. Mercer said.

We both nodded again.

“Just…” Mr. Mercer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just be sensible , please.”

The word held a whole lot of worry. Part of it made me bridle—like, what the fuck , come on, he didn’t have to say it like we were dumbass kids who were going to fuck up the second we were gone—but mostly it was just uncomfortable. Mr. Mercer wasn’t my dad, but sometimes he talked like he was, as though he had three sons instead of two, and it made my stomach swoop in an uncomfortable way because I didn’t know how I was supposed to react.

That was the story of my life to this point, actually. I’d never figured out how to act around other people, so pretty much everyone just thought I was an asshole. Which, okay, yeah, I was an asshole but it was honestly accidental. I didn’t ever remember being at a crossroads and making the conscious choice that antisocial asshole was better than awkward weirdo , but somewhere along the way I’d committed to it, I guess, and now here I was .

“We will, Dad,” Jacob said, hitting exactly the right sincere tone to make the lines in his dad’s expression soften just a bit. Then Jacob looked at me and smiled that wide, easy smile of his, the one he didn’t even know was a total killer, and my stomach did a loop the loop. “We’ll be fine, right, Matt?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice catching in my suddenly dry throat. “We’ll be fine.”

I t was lucky I wasn’t driving yet because Mr. Mercer would not approve of the way I didn’t have my eyes on the road. As we backed out of the Mercers’ driveway onto the street, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the grip Jacob had on the steering wheel. His fingers, his knuckles, the way the sunlight caught on the usually invisible hairs on his forearms and turned them gold.

“You know what would be funny?” he asked as he watched the backup camera’s screen. “If I hit that trash can. Can you imagine the look on my dad’s face?”

“Dude,” I said. “Don’t hit the trash can. The trip would be off so fucking fast.”

He laughed, and I tried to laugh too and pretend I didn’t feel an itch under my skin. Like, we were so close to getting out of Cape Charles. Why would he fucking jinx us by saying that dumb shit about the trash can? His parents were still right there, right by the driveway, watching us leave.

Luke and Charlie were there too. Charlie didn’t look bothered, but Luke’s nose was wrinkled the way it had been most of his life, whenever he thought that Jacob was leaving him out of something fun. Little brother syndrome or something. They got on well enough now, but a few years ago Jacob had spent a lot of time swatting Luke away like a buzzing insect.

“You ready for this?” Jacob asked me with a grin .

“Yeah,” I said. “ So ready. But I’m not kidding, dude. Watch where you’re going.”

“You sound like my dad .” But Jacob kept his eyes on the screen, and we backed the rest of the way out of the driveway without hitting the trash can. He pushed the button to put the window down. “See ya, Luke and Charlie! Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad! We’ll call you when we need bail money in Vegas!”

Then, cackling like a fucking maniac, he waved, then put the car into Drive and we headed out of the street, out of the neighborhood, out of the town, and into the rest of our lives.

And from now on, I was going to be a whole new person.