Baltimore?”
“The whatteranians?”
Gina was still studiously ascertaining if her bag was ready for travel. We were standing on the brick path near the front lawn, the birds were chirping and she was solemnly bent over, rummaging for hair clips. That’s when I noticed the barking cage. It was pointed out to me by Gina’s mother and grandmother, the latter with her cane, that was now a canine pointer-outer.
“Gina!” That was Mrs. Reed, not me. “You told me Shelby was all right with it. You told me you spoke to her!”
“I was going to, Mom, but we got so busy, and went away to Mystic, and it slipped my mind. Sorry, Sloane. Sorry, Mom.”
“But you told me you spoke to her!”
“Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Sloane. I thought you wouldn’t mind. I thought it was on our way. Isn’t it?”
This coming from a girl who thought Bakersfield and Mendocino were neighboring towns, separated by a mere 500 miles! What was I supposed to do? The dogs were anxiously looking up through the bars of their crate.
Mrs. Reed rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Shelby, I hope you don’t mind. My Rosie had puppies recently and I promised two of them to Flo. And it’s a little on the way, isn’t it?” She said this sheepishly, beseechingly, as if she was pretty sure it might not be quite on the way, but perhaps I wouldn’t notice.
“I think it’s a little out of the way,” I said, sounding like such a stickler. “I’m sure it won’t be too bad.”
Mrs. Reed smiled warmly. “I’m pleased. My sister was sick last Christmas and hasn’t seen the girls. Or you. She’ll be very happy.”
“We can stay with Aunt Flo and it won’t cost us,” said Gina, trying to organize her half-dozen pairs of sandals into a small shopping bag. “That’s good, right? We save a little money. And she loves cannolis.”
“Who doesn’t?” I grumbled. Baltimore! I showed them my back so they wouldn’t see me grind my teeth together. Surreptitiously, I flapped open the map. Sure enough, Baltimore was a miserable 200-mile detour south when we were heading west. Well, not anymore. Now we were heading south.
“Come on, Sloane,” Gina said, coming up to the car. “It’s just an adventure. I know it’s not on your list.”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s going to add a day to the trip, get us to California later, but that’s okay, I guess. One day won’t hurt us. I’ll adjust it on my calendar. I don’t mind.”
When I folded the map and turned around, Gina’s mother had her hands on Gina’s shoulders and was dispensing more advice. “Now remember, don’t stop for anyone. Do you hear?”
“I hear.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
“Shelby, you promise? Be safe.”
“Yes, of course, Mrs. Reed. I would never.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about Shelby, Mom.” Gina laughed. “You know there’s no one less likely in the world to pick up a hitchhiker than her.”
“I know. That’s why I’m letting you go with her,” said Mrs. Reed. “And don’t lose your money. And have breakfast every day. Don’t forget to drink fluids on the road. And lock the car when you stop to go to the potty.” I blinked. Did she use the word potty to an eighteen-year-old?
“I will.” “I won’t.” “I will.” “I won’t.” “I will.”
“Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t even look at them.”
“I won’t.”
While still holding on to Gina’s shoulders, Mrs. Reed turned her head to me. “And, Shelby, when the tank is half full, gas up. No reason to wait till it’s empty.”
“We will, Mrs. Reed.” She was preaching to the converted.
“No, no, not we. You . Don’t let Gina touch the gas. The fumes will give her a fierce headache. Gina, when Shelby gasses up, you run to the bathroom, okay?”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Don’t stay near the pumps. Don’t inhale.” She turned to me. “And remember, she’s allergic to peanuts. So no peanuts.”
“No peanuts, got it. What about peanut butter?” When I
“The whatteranians?”
Gina was still studiously ascertaining if her bag was ready for travel. We were standing on the brick path near the front lawn, the birds were chirping and she was solemnly bent over, rummaging for hair clips. That’s when I noticed the barking cage. It was pointed out to me by Gina’s mother and grandmother, the latter with her cane, that was now a canine pointer-outer.
“Gina!” That was Mrs. Reed, not me. “You told me Shelby was all right with it. You told me you spoke to her!”
“I was going to, Mom, but we got so busy, and went away to Mystic, and it slipped my mind. Sorry, Sloane. Sorry, Mom.”
“But you told me you spoke to her!”
“Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Sloane. I thought you wouldn’t mind. I thought it was on our way. Isn’t it?”
This coming from a girl who thought Bakersfield and Mendocino were neighboring towns, separated by a mere 500 miles! What was I supposed to do? The dogs were anxiously looking up through the bars of their crate.
Mrs. Reed rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Shelby, I hope you don’t mind. My Rosie had puppies recently and I promised two of them to Flo. And it’s a little on the way, isn’t it?” She said this sheepishly, beseechingly, as if she was pretty sure it might not be quite on the way, but perhaps I wouldn’t notice.
“I think it’s a little out of the way,” I said, sounding like such a stickler. “I’m sure it won’t be too bad.”
Mrs. Reed smiled warmly. “I’m pleased. My sister was sick last Christmas and hasn’t seen the girls. Or you. She’ll be very happy.”
“We can stay with Aunt Flo and it won’t cost us,” said Gina, trying to organize her half-dozen pairs of sandals into a small shopping bag. “That’s good, right? We save a little money. And she loves cannolis.”
“Who doesn’t?” I grumbled. Baltimore! I showed them my back so they wouldn’t see me grind my teeth together. Surreptitiously, I flapped open the map. Sure enough, Baltimore was a miserable 200-mile detour south when we were heading west. Well, not anymore. Now we were heading south.
“Come on, Sloane,” Gina said, coming up to the car. “It’s just an adventure. I know it’s not on your list.”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s going to add a day to the trip, get us to California later, but that’s okay, I guess. One day won’t hurt us. I’ll adjust it on my calendar. I don’t mind.”
When I folded the map and turned around, Gina’s mother had her hands on Gina’s shoulders and was dispensing more advice. “Now remember, don’t stop for anyone. Do you hear?”
“I hear.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
“Shelby, you promise? Be safe.”
“Yes, of course, Mrs. Reed. I would never.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about Shelby, Mom.” Gina laughed. “You know there’s no one less likely in the world to pick up a hitchhiker than her.”
“I know. That’s why I’m letting you go with her,” said Mrs. Reed. “And don’t lose your money. And have breakfast every day. Don’t forget to drink fluids on the road. And lock the car when you stop to go to the potty.” I blinked. Did she use the word potty to an eighteen-year-old?
“I will.” “I won’t.” “I will.” “I won’t.” “I will.”
“Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t even look at them.”
“I won’t.”
While still holding on to Gina’s shoulders, Mrs. Reed turned her head to me. “And, Shelby, when the tank is half full, gas up. No reason to wait till it’s empty.”
“We will, Mrs. Reed.” She was preaching to the converted.
“No, no, not we. You . Don’t let Gina touch the gas. The fumes will give her a fierce headache. Gina, when Shelby gasses up, you run to the bathroom, okay?”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Don’t stay near the pumps. Don’t inhale.” She turned to me. “And remember, she’s allergic to peanuts. So no peanuts.”
“No peanuts, got it. What about peanut butter?” When I
Similar Books
