Page 111 of Wherever You Are

He was thinking about me.

I’m still thinking about him. I sort of hate that I agreed in the end. I mean, what’s the probability that they’d even be angry if he had a phone? He’s already blindfolded.

This was areallystupid idea.

“Rose?” Lily asks, since Rose still hasn’t replied to her.

“She wants us at next week’s luncheon,” Rose replies, confirming that she’s talking to their mom. “Which isnothappening.” I’ve heard about the fancy luncheons that the Calloway sisters go to just to visit with their parents. They don’t sound fun.

A white Ferrari speeds up and drives next to our car; Coconut’s head flops out of the open window. A big goofy smile on the husky’s face. On the passenger side, Ryke clasps the top of the window frame.

Suddenly, Daisy steps on the gas, zipping offfast. The Ferrari must go from our speed (maybe forty?) to a hundred miles per hour in a second flat. My jaw is on the floor.

That is…terrifying.

And yet, I really love hanging out with Daisy.

“Uhh…” Lily gapes. “I’m not supposed to follow them, am I?”

Lo shakes his head. “No way. We’re not driving off a cliff with Thelma and Louise.”

Heat encases me, hot with worry. I dig through my backpack for a water bottle. “Do they know where they’re going?”

Daisy said she planned to follow us, and I don’t want her to end up in a ditch where we can’t find her. Even the thought brings this wave of panicked sadness.

“Nope,” Lo says. “I hope he gets lost.”Please no.

“Knowing Ryke and Daisy, I’m sure that’s their goal,” Connor chimes in from the backseat.

I don’t know if she’ll receive it, but I quickly text Daisy.Love you.I wish I could text her the directions, but no one’s allowed to share them over any electronic device. In case of hacks. Reminding her that I care is the best I can do. I wouldn’t ever tell her to stop being who she is. Daredevil and all.

Leaning forward, I fiddle with the middle console air vents, trying to direct them towards the back. Even though I’m way too far away from the trunk.

But all I can think: if I’m feeling this heat, I just hope Garrison isn’t suffering.

Please don’t die in the trunk.

26BACK THEN – May

Whatever Nowhere-ville

GARRISON ABBEY

Age 18

I’ve done some strange shit. Drunk. High. But being curled up in a duffel bag fortwelvehours definitely is the strangest. And I’m stone-cold sober.

By hour three, I was rethinking the sober part.

I should’ve taken about five shots of vodka before Willow helped me into this bag. She volunteered to load the trunk just to make sure no one would throw their suitcases on me. Grateful doesn’t even cut what I feel.

A blindfold covers my eyes, the fabric soft. I’mfullyin the over-sized duffel with just an inch unzipped for air circulation. Every pitstop when it’s clear the Escalade is emptied out of passengers, I readjust. Sometimes, I unzip the bag just so I can extend my legs. But I’ve only done that once so far. Not wanting to risk it.

She’s putting a lot of fucking trust in me.

Bucket loads.

I’m not going to blow it.