Even though it was at least ninety degrees outside, the fresh air felt good. I took a gulp of air.
“Oh my God,” the woman was saying as she unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled me from the car. I weighed very little, even for my age, and she lifted me easily. “Are you okay? Can you say anything?”
There was concern in her eyes. My mom never looked like that. Too bad this woman couldn’t take me home. I could be her kid instead. “I’m okay.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” My mother’s voice rang out across the parking lot. “What are you doing to my child?”
My mother and the woman started yelling at each other. The woman was saying I could have died. My mother told her to mind her own damn business. The woman said she was going to report my mother. Finally, my mom shoved me back into the Dodge and we took off before I had a chance to get my seatbelt buckled again.
“What did you unlock the door for?” she snapped at me.
“It was hot.”
“Well, I hope it was worth it. Now she’s going to report me for being a terrible parent and you’re going to get taken away from us. They’ll put you in a foster home. You’ll never see me or your father again.”
The thought of never seeing my mom again? Not so bad. But the thought of never seeing my father again made me sick. So sick, I had to make her pull over so I could vomit.
Chapter 6
CLAIRE
Here’s my dilemma:
I have to pee. Urgently. Except we are less than one hour into our journey. Before we left the house, Noah made a big deal about how I should use the bathroom, and I told him I wasn’t a child who needed to be told to go before we took a trip. I retained my dignity, but now it seems that it came at a terrible cost. I’m worried one violent sneeze might result in a tragedy.
But how can I ask him to stop to use the bathroom? He’s going to say I told you so. And he’s not going to say it in a teasing way. He’s going to say it in a mean, patronizing way in front of four of my friends. And he will hold it over my head for the next several hours, if not for the rest of our lives.
I look at the gas gauge. It’s hovering a little below half. Maybe I can spin this.
“I think we should get some gas,” I announce.
Noah looks down at the gas gauge in astonishment. “What are you talking about? We have plenty of gas. The tank is half-full.”
“Well, it’s half—empty.” I cough. “And the minivan goes through gas really quickly. You don’t know, Noah. This is my car.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You need to use the bathroom, don’t you?”
I let out a huff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why are you so obsessed with me needing the bathroom?”
“Because…” His knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “We’ve barely gotten on the highway and now we’re already going to have to stop. I told you to use the bathroom before we left. You always do this.”
“But I don’t need the bathroom. I think we should get some gas, that’s all.”
“We can get gas in an hour or two when we stop for lunch.”
An hour or two? My bladder will have exploded by then. Why did I drink so much water with breakfast? “We don’t want to run out of gas on the highway.” I point to a sign on the road. “There’s a rest stop coming up. Let’s just get the gas.”
“So if I stop and get gas,” he says, “you’re going to stay with the car and not use the bathroom? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Well…” I can’t lie and pretend I’m not going to use the bathroom. Because he will absolutely watch me and make sure I don’t go. He will drive this point home, just out of spite. “I might use it if we stop…”
“You are so full of shit, Claire.”
Even though Rihanna is singing on the radio, the rest of the car is silent. Everyone is listening to this embarrassing argument. If we weren’t traveling at seventy miles per hour, I would open the door and jump out of this car right now.
“Actually,” Lindsay speaks up in a small voice, “I need to use the bathroom. Could we stop?”
At least Lindsay has my back. Noah glances behind his shoulder, then grumbles, “Fine.” Then he proceeds to cut across three lanes on the highway all at once, resulting in one near collision and a slew of angry horns. Apparently, Noah is trying to get us all killed during this trip.
I let Lindsay use the bathroom first, just to keep up the pretense of not actually needing the bathroom, even though I’ve got my legs crossed as I’m waiting outside the Porta-John behind the gas station. The whole time I’m fuming at Noah. We’re barely an hour into the drive, and he’s already making things miserable for everyone. This was a mistake—I should never have agreed to this trip. But thank God we have separate rooms. Even though he seems angry about it, I’ve never been happier about that decision.