Those Girls by Chevy Stevens

dealers hung out, then we could ask.
    After we stole the gas we drove for another hour, through small towns and farmland, lakes and valleys lining the roads. The towns were dark at this time of night, our only company on the road the occasional truck. Dani fell asleep at the wheel once, swerving onto the dry shoulder, only waking when we yelled at her, so we pulled off onto a side road and spread out our sleeping bags in the back of the truck. We’d planned on getting up early, but we were all exhausted and woke with the sun beaming down on us, our bodies stiff and sore. We drank some water, ate some of our food, brushed our teeth—spitting into the ditch—and got back on the road. If we found Troy without too much trouble, we figured we could still make it to Vancouver by the afternoon.
    “We’ll go to the beach on your birthday,” Dani said.
    “That’d be cool.” I tried not to think about my father’s presents, how days earlier they’d been all I wanted.
    A half hour later when we were getting close to Cash Creek, steam started coming up through the hood, then billowed out in big gusts.
    “What the hell is that?” Courtney said.
    “Fuck if I know,” Dani said as we pulled onto the side of the road. We all piled out and looked at the truck. Water was dripping out from below.
    “Is it the radiator?” I said.
    “Probably. Shit.” Dani kicked the tire.
    “We’re going to have to hitch to town,” Courtney said.
    We grabbed what we could out of the back—water, our packsacks, some of the food—and started walking. We had to leave the rifle under the front seat and I worried about someone breaking into the truck. We hadn’t gone far, could still see the truck, when we heard the rumble of an engine—a black Ford pulled alongside us. Two guys, maybe in their early twenties, were smiling through the window. The driver, a dark-haired boy with a baseball cap and a white tank top, leaned over the steering wheel.
    “Truck break down?”
    Keeping her distance from the truck, Dani said, “Yeah, steam started coming out.”
    “Probably your radiator or the water pump. I can look at it—I’m a mechanic,” the dark-haired boy said. The other one had brown hair and a big toothy smile, no shirt. He had a farmer’s tan, lines on his neck and arms.
    Dani turned, met our eyes.
    Courtney shook her head. “We should just walk to town.”
    Dani whispered back, “It’ll take too long.”
    The boys glanced at each other. The dark-haired one shrugged.
    “It’s cool if you don’t want help. We can send the tow truck back, cost you about a hundred.”
    The other boy chimed in, “Or if you want to walk, probably take you an hour.” The heat was already waving off the road, sucking at our skin.
    Dani said, “If you could take a look, that’d be great.”

 
    CHAPTER SIX
    “Yep, it’s definitely the water pump,” the dark-haired boy said, his head under the hood. His name was Brian and he was tall and thin with dark round eyes, dark eyebrows and lashes, a small nose and mouth, and a necklace with a bullet on it. His faded jeans had rips in the knees and old stains, and his boots were scuffed and coated with dried mud. He smelled of grease and cigarettes.
    His brother, Gavin, didn’t really look like him, with lighter hair and a wide mouth full of white teeth. He was also bulkier, broad shouldered, and moved slower, but he was tall too. He had a different way of looking at you. Brian’s eyes were lively, and he spoke quickly, breaking into laughter a lot. His gaze darted around, his hands fast and confident as he checked things under the hood. Gavin was more watchful, quieter.
    Gavin was sitting on the tailgate now, taking long pulls from a beer. They’d handed us each one—ice-cold from a beer cooler, condensation dripping down the sides, and we guzzled them eagerly while I kept a wary eye on the boys. My camera was around my neck, and I rested one of my hands on the strap, the worn leather familiar and