10 Hours to Go

AFTERNOON

Friday, September 6

1

A bell tower chimed, three o’clock. Natasha was late. I should have predicted it.

I bet she hadn’t changed since middle school. But twenty minutes added on to a ten-hour drive wouldn’t make much difference, and she was coming from across town. I checked the Portland traffic on my phone. Totally clear. She probably hadn’t even left yet.

I sat on the stone steps outside the lecture hall, hugging my knees, watching as one by one, everyone on my Oak Canyon College tour got picked up and swept away. The confident ones by Ubers, the rich ones by taxis, and the last few by parents—anxious to help their kids make the best college choice in this step to adulting. I know, who was I to judge? Still, it passed the time.

The hazy sun shimmered through the leaves of a gnarled beech tree and settled on the white patches of skin visible through the holes in my black jeans. I refolded my hoodie to make a softer cushion against the hard bench.

This whole place was a fantasy college—Gothic redbrick buildings complete with gargoyles, arched walkways, quiet courtyards, shady tree-lined pathways, and a huge meadow dotted with heritage trees and laughing students. This time next year it could be me laughing with my friends, strolling to my next class, or studying in the oak-beamed library. The possibility lit a fire in my heart. This was my dream, and I was going to make it happen.

I smiled to myself. A blue-haired student passing by smiled back. Everyone was so friendly. Mom was right. There was nothing like seeing the place for real to know if it was a good fit or not. I didn’t even need to see anywhere else. My heart was set.

All that stood in the way was Mom’s test results, and she’d been feeling so well lately they were likely to be good. Mom would be so happy I’d found the right place. I pulled out my phone and texted.

Love it here!!!! Can’t wait to tell you all about it.

It was totally worth the long train ride up. At least going back, I wouldn’t have to deal with the train constantly stalling. It was fire season; one whiff of smoke and everything got delayed and now my return trip had been canceled. Thank God I’d found a ride.

I stood and stretched like I was completely fine waiting alone. A student ran by with her little corgi dog, both dressed in burgundy sweatshirts with the college logo of a little owl on the front.

Then finally, half an hour late, Natasha arrived.

She waved from her shiny gray Prius, and called out, Hey, Lily! like we were old friends, like nothing had ever happened between us. I smiled back and climbed in.

Natasha was effortlessly polished, just as I remembered her. Her dark-brown hair was long and glossy and her eyebrows perfectly arched. Her light tanned skin was flawless. Even her freckles were perfectly placed across her sun-kissed nose.

She eyed my hair. Wow, love the highlights! Red, huh? That’s a bit bold for the Lily I knew, isn’t it?

I guess I’m not that Lily anymore. I fake smiled back, attached my seat belt, and ran my hand through my shoulder-length brown hair, red streaks and all.

Here, I got you a sparkling water for the ride. Natasha pointed to the can of sparkling cherry water in the cupholder.

Oh thanks. Kindness was not what I’d been expecting.

That smoky haze is something else, isn’t it? She glanced out the window. Hope we’re not driving toward it.

It doesn’t look too bad. At least there’ve been fewer fires than normal this year.

True that, said Natasha as she looked down at my patchwork messenger bag Is that your only bag?

Yep. It was an up-one-day, back-the-next kind of deal. I shoved my bag down by my feet. I guess I could have waited up here an extra day, but… Thanks so much for picking me up last minute and everything. I said it all in a rush, like I was nervous. Which I totally was not.

Yes, I heard that a fire crossed the tracks. When my mom called, I was surprised. But it’s no problem. I didn’t realize our moms still talk to each other. Luckily for you, or you’d be stranded, I guess. She paused to watch a guy and his dog cross the street. A student probably—they even let you keep pets here. I can’t believe you came all this way to visit one school.

Put like that, it sounded totally ridiculous. It’s the only one I’m interested in up here. Two minutes in, and I was already justifying myself. Maybe she wasn’t trying to catch me out; maybe she was just being curious. It’s such a great school.

It’s good to know your own mind. Natasha tapped her cherry-tipped nails on the steering wheel. Ready? She didn’t wait for a reply before silently pulling away, leaving Oak Canyon College behind us.

As she drove, I tried and failed to think of something interesting to say and ended up with, How were your college visits?

Oh, I’m not going to college up here. Just visiting friends. A friend. Things kind of unraveled, so I’m headed back early. She paused for a moment with her lips pursed. So how was your visit? Let me guess. She frowned as if she was considering. Small, private, green, lacking the token diversity depicted on their website? Your usual liberal arts deal. She tilted her chin as if daring me to disagree. You’ll be fine, Lily. I bet they loved you. She almost sounded sincere.

It’s actually pretty diverse, and yes, I will be fine. My cheeks ached from fake smiling. I would get in, and I didn’t need her assurance. This was so surreal. I felt like I was twelve again, justifying myself to Natasha. I looked for signs of anything: anger, hate, pity, but she was focused on the road. It was so long since we’d spent any time together, so it’s not like either of us knew each other now. Was she going to say anything about what happened back then, or was the past a closed book? If she was ignoring it, I was happy to play along.

Natasha glanced at me. I didn’t think Oak Canyon was your vibe. I would have thought it was a bit too intellectual, too quirky. Though I guess people can change. Her copper eyes sparkled. I knew that look. She was baiting me already. How did I ever think this ride was a good idea?

She carried on. I mean you might enjoy Portland. It’s just so small and rainy. Well, normally. I guess not this year.

A truck honked as we merged a little too slowly onto the Ross Island Bridge Road.

I like the small-city, anything-goes vibe.

Keep Portland weird! Natasha laughed. You’d fit in there then. You’ve always been a little off-kilter.

WTF? I took a deep breath. Yes, it’s fun to try somewhere a little different from where you come from, I think. The green-gray river slipped by beneath us. This place was all bridges and weed stores. Nice to leave California and experience something different.

I guess, Natasha said like she didn’t think so at all.

There’s no guarantee I’ll get in anyway. Why did I say that?

Tell me about it. What’s your GPA, again? She cut across two lanes, narrowly avoiding scraping up against an SUV.

Pretty good. High enough to dream. I gripped my seat as we slid back into the right lane. I’m counting on my SATs to help.

You know they don’t really use them anymore. It’s all on your GPA, unless you write an amazing essay on overcoming trauma. Natasha always did love to needle me. She took a sharp left, everything in the car rolled to the side. Maybe you can lean on your mom’s story for that.

Oh. My. God. She was really going there. She’s doing much better now. I glared out the window. My first instincts were right. Natasha had not changed at all.

Oh, great, Natasha said, as if breast cancer was a headache my mom had gotten over.

And this was why I never should have listened to my stupid mother. So what if Amtrak was delayed from fires and wasn’t running past Eugene today? So what if the replacement bus bridge running from Eugene to Oakland added an extra six hours? A twenty-hour trip home alone would have been easier than knowing I had ten hours to go, trapped in a car with Natasha.

After all this time, I’d forgotten how she made me feel. There was a reason I’d avoided her in high school. I’d outgrown her, moved on. My skin crawled at the thought of small talk all the way home. Playing nice. Pretending everything was fine. Maybe I could just fake sleep instead—yeah, right, for six hundred miles.

So, what’s your college plan? I asked her. Anything to avoid talking about me.

I’m joining my sister at Stanford, with UC Berkeley as my B plan.

I shook my head. You haven’t changed. Only you would have Berkeley as plan B.

Everyone needs a backup plan. She scowled in the rearview mirror at the truck behind us. It actually slowed down and stopped tailgating. Do you know my dad almost went to Oak Canyon, but he changed his mind? Too far from home, too small, too insular. She grinned, like I wouldn’t know she was really talking about me.

Too bad. I checked my phone. Mom hadn’t texted back.

Hope you don’t still get carsick. Natasha glanced at me. Do you remember when my mom drove us to Monterey, and we had to stop like twelve times so you wouldn’t puke in our new car?

Nope. Thanks for reminding me. Maybe keep your eyes on the road? Jesus, we’d be dead before dark at this rate.

I forgot what a worrier you are about everything. She stared at me mouth open, then slammed the brakes just in time to miss the white Chevy truck in front of us. Seriously, a slowdown already?

I guess we should have planned for it. It is fire season. I checked the map app on my phone. I’ll plug in our route. There’s a delay coming up. An hour. Eleven hours to San Ramon. Eleven long hours home. Do you want to share the driving?

God, no. It’s the only thing that will keep me from being bored to death!

I honestly couldn’t tell if she meant from me or from the road trip. Or maybe she just didn’t realize how rude she sounded.

Oh God, sorry. She giggled. That came out sooooo wrong! I didn’t mean bored of you. I’m dying to catch up. Again, sarcasm or truth? I couldn’t tell. But I let it go and gave a quick reassuring smile.

She turned up the radio.

Smoke still drifting north, as far as Multnomah County from the Wolf Hollow fire, which is also causing slowdowns on the I-5 South from the Cottage Grove exit. No road closures yet. And sadly, no chance of that rain we’re all praying for but a chance of thunderstorms rolling in this evening with possible dry lightning. And with that, the threat of more wildfires. Stay safe out there, people.

Dry lightning? Remember all those fires that started last time? Natasha asked.

That was the worst. So strange to get all that lightning and no rain. I used to love thunderstorms, but not anymore. We’ll be well out of Oregon by then, right? I asked.

For sure. Natasha blew a stray hair from her eyes. We just have one more stop, and then it’s five hundred miles down this boring freeway home.

I stared at her. One more stop? This was going to take forever.

Did you think your rideshare was just for one? Anyway, you know her.

Who is it? My gut warned me this was not good news.

Elke. Remember Elke? We’re picking her up from Eugene. And Natasha hummed along to the radio again, like picking up Elke was nothing.

I sat in stunned silence. Elke. I bit my lip. Elke whose life I’d ruined in eighth grade, that Elke? I finally stuttered, Elke Azizi? As if it could possibly be anyone else.

Yes. Natasha smiled, like it was a good thing. It’s going to be so much fun. I couldn’t tell if she meant that to sound sarcastic.

Perhaps Elke wouldn’t remember me. Like she wouldn’t remember that I’d got her expelled. That I’d never got to face her and say sorry. Not that it mattered. The past was past. I sat up straighter and smoothed my hair. I think I do remember her, vaguely, I added. And smiled like nothing was wrong. Because it wasn’t.

Natasha had made sure that my version of the truth never fully came out. As if I’d been the one who ruined Yosemite Adventure Camp. It was all their fault. They’d organized the secret midnight party. It was lucky I was there to yell Fire! when their campfire got out of control. I was trying to do a good thing when I’d told on Elke. Trying to protect people. Instead, Natasha shamed me for snitching on my friends. Just remembering the hallway whispers, the rumors, and side-eyes made me shiver. How was I supposed to know Elke would get into so much trouble?

And now Elke was going to be here in the car, and there was no escape.

I bet Natasha and Elke were still besties. It would be two against one. I would have to pretend nothing was wrong all the way home.

It wasn’t like I was going to ever see them after the ride. But my stomach rolled because I knew there was no getting around it. This was going to be the road trip from hell.

2

I didn’t recognize Elke at first. I was looking for a girl with light-brown skin and long blond hair dressed in some sort of flowery minidress. Right, because everyone always wore their outfits from middle school for the rest of their life. Perhaps she imagined me in the hand-me-downs my mom used to make me wear to school. Thank God, those days were over.

This long-legged girl stood with her back to me, nonchalantly leaning against the bus stop. She shook her bob-cut violet hair and slid her phone into the back pocket of her shorts. Her chunky rose-embroidered Doc Martens made sure she stood out from the crowd of milling students like a lemur at a petting zoo. Not dangerous, but definitely not ordinary. She turned and beamed at Natasha, and I knew immediately it was her. Four years after everything, I was finally facing Elke again.

My heart beat double time. Did she hate me? I held my breath preparing for the worst.

She came bounding over. Thanks so much, Nat. You’re a lifesaver. I so appreciate this! She glanced at me and frowned. Lily, isn’t it, from middle school? Natasha must have warned her already. You look so different!

I am so different. I said, tilting my chin like the confident person I was now.

I’m Elke, by the way. In case you’ve forgotten me.

Hi. I gave a little wave. OMG, why did I do that?

Elke opened my door. I need to be up front. I get horrendous car sickness! She was actually expecting me to jump out for her.

I put on my best fake smile and squirmed in my seat. I get carsick, too.

Not as bad as her, Natasha cut in. Go on, Lily. There’s more room in the back. You can lie down if you need to. She gave me a nod, as if I’d said yes already. Thanks.

Yes, thanks, Lily, Elke added, moving aside for me to exit.

I sighed, gathered my bag, and got out. I climbed into the back seat and rearranged myself there.

God, it’s so dry and smoky out there. Elke pushed her seat back, giving me an inch of leg room. Ugghhhh, can’t wait for fire season to be over.

I crossed and uncrossed my legs, trying to figure out where to put my knees.

Oh, there’s a water here for you. Natasha pointed to the unopened can of sparkling cherry water she’d given to me earlier. There’s one in the back for you, Lily.

Thanks, I said, spotting it rolling on the floor. Great. I put it in the cupholder, hoping it wouldn’t make a giant fizzy mess by the time I opened it.

Elke searched inside her backpack and pulled out a CD. I made a road-trip mix that we can play later.

She obviously knew Natasha’s Prius was so old it had a CD player. They must have stayed in touch. Of course, they did. When Elke was forced to leave the school, it probably only made their friendship stronger.

Natasha put the car in gear. Ready?

Let’s go! Road trip! Elke danced in place, bouncing her seat against my legs. Oops, sorry, she said before I could get annoyed. I didn’t realize we were that close, she added and pulled her seat forward an inch. Better?

I nodded. And it was.

Just thinking about middle school made my palms sweat. But Elke chatted away like nothing was wrong. The places she’d been to for sushi, how bad the traffic was, how the party was last night (wild). By the time we’d glided out of the University of Oregon, back onto the main road, I had relaxed. It was just a ride. Everything was going to be fine.

Stay on the I-5 South for 438 miles, Natasha’s map app directed us. Smooth sailing. Finally, I could just slip away and pretend I wasn’t there. It wasn’t like they minded. Too busy catching up on their summer vacations to Amsterdam (Elke) and Florence (Natasha).

What about you, Lily, go anywhere fun? Elke was not going to let me disappear after all.

I gave a half laugh. This was it, day trip to Portland. First time I’d been away in two years. My mom’s been sick, so I don’t get out much.

Oh. Elke tapped at her phone. Sasha is texting me, like I need to be checked up on. She rolled her eyes at Natasha. Then turned back to me. Sorry, what was that about your mom?

Nothing. I took out my phone, just to look busy and see if Mom had texted back. Nope, which was strange for her. She probably didn’t want to annoy me by texting me too much. But no news was good news. So, umm, were you on a college tour?

What? Elke sounded like she’d forgotten I was even in the car behind her. Oh yeah. No, I was helping Sasha, my ex, move into her dorm. I don’t think I’m cut out for college. Too much, you know, work. She grinned at Natasha. And no parental expectations, so… Her eyes drifted off to the passing scenery.

We drove along the slow-moving freeway, caught in between trucks and RVs, passing meadows, the occasional trailer park, and farm supply stores. We even passed by a shirtless guy, all ribs and stretched-out pale