The rest of us are texting one another. Eddie sends the first one.

Who was it?

 

Portia answers.

Well, since I’ve been with you for the past week,

safe to say it wasn’t me.

 

Eddie says:

Wasn’t me.

 

I cut off another piece of steak and put it in my mouth before answering.

What about Krista?

 

He scoffs.

On a mountain? Not likely.

 

I say:

Nikki?

 

We all pause to take a sip of beer, a bite of food.

Eddie answers first.

For Christ’s sake, it’s not Nikki.

 

He has always believed she’s dead. A tree carving isn’t going to change his mind.

I say:

Then who? Who else would know?

 

Portia says:

Grandpa.

Before he died, or as a ghost?

 

Eddie says:

He has to be messing with us. That’s why he set this whole thing up. The ashes, too. It’s all to get back at us.

 

I say:

Sure. Except Grandpa never saw the tree. He stayed in

the car the whole time.

 

That shuts everyone up.

It’s my night to pay for the motel. Tonight we’re at the Coyote Run Inn. Eddie picked it on purpose, given that Grandpa used to call us the little coyotes.

‘Seems like a sign,’ Eddie says.

A sign of what, he doesn’t say.

The motel looks like all the others except for the coyote motif sprinkled everywhere, from the sign to the numbers on the doors. When I go in to pay for two rooms, it hits me that Eddie and Portia will have their own. She won’t have to stay with Felix and me anymore.

This feels weirder than I expect it to. If nothing else, Krista was a buffer – a pawn, so to speak, kind of like Felix is. Since neither one knew the truth about the first trip, or about Nikki, we couldn’t talk about it in front of them. For Eddie and Portia, that barrier is gone.

Felix leaves our room twice, no doubt to smoke. He must have bought a new pack. Vaguely I think about putting one of the packs I have into his bag, like he had missed it, but I don’t have any energy left for Felix’s smoking. Sometimes there are too many battles to fight, and his smoking is the least important.

What I’m thinking about is Grandpa.

At one point, we were alone together. We had just come down the mountain from Kirwin, and as soon as we hit civilization Nikki stopped at a gas station. Portia had to pee so bad she was almost crying, and she jumped out of the car as soon as it came to a stop. Nikki ran after her, and Eddie wasn’t far behind.

That left me and Grandpa. He was slightly more lucid, given that he had eaten crackers and drunk some real water. At least he wasn’t sick anymore.

I climbed to the back and looked over the seat at him. His eyes were sleepy but as clear as I’d seen them since Nikki took over.

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘Hi.’ He sounded hoarse, like you do when your throat is scratched from throwing up. He held up an empty bottle of water. ‘You have any more?’

I hesitated, and then gave him mine. He drank what was left in one gulp.

‘Why’d you hit her?’ I said.

He froze. As foggy as his head must have been, he knew what I was asking. His answer would reveal the truth. I trusted Nikki – more than anyone, ever – but I wasn’t stupid. She did know how to exaggerate.

All at once, Grandpa’s face changed. A tiny smile. No, a hint of a smile. It was in his eyes. And it scared the hell out of me.

What he said made it even worse.

‘Because I could.’

‘Because you could?’

He blinked. His face changed, the smile gone, the eyes sleepy once again. ‘Because I couldn’t help it,’ he said.

The first way was right. Because I could.

I wonder how many bad things have been explained by such a simple phase, a simple idea. Because I could. Because no one stopped me. Because it was easy. All the same answer, and it really means because I wanted to.

‘I guess that’s why Nikki has done this to you,’ I told him. ‘Because she could.’

He glared at me and I glared back. I wanted to tell him that I hated him and didn’t want to be anywhere near him. And I certainly didn’t want him around Nikki. Or her baby.

But I kept that thought to myself, because I always kept Nikki’s secrets.

Almost always.

 

If you could live in a movie or TV show, which one would you choose?

A week ago I would’ve said The X-Files but after seeing nothing at the watchtower, I’m pretty sure that aliens are BS and there’s no point. Then maybe I’d say Poltergeist except there aren’t any ghosts.

Yesterday, I would’ve said the only answer is Buffy. Who cares if vampires are real? I just want to be a slayer.

Today is different. Today I’d say Beverly Hills 90210, because if I’m going to be a mom, I want to be a rich one.

In the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, someone blasts music so loud it makes the windows vibrate. I jump out of bed, convinced the end of the world is nigh.

Felix sleeps through it.

The music, I realize, is coming from a car. The headlights shine through the window as the car drives out of the motel parking lot, and then it’s gone.

Silence returns, though not to my thumping heart. Sleep won’t come back anytime soon.

I pick up my phone, which is facedown on the nightstand, right as it’s supposed to be. I haven’t found it faceup since that one time. I also haven’t gone on another morning walk with Felix.

Coincidence? Perhaps.

Still no text from Krista. She hasn’t responded to me at all.

No interesting e-mails. Nothing new from him on Instagram. I check the news, which I haven’t looked at in days. Being on a road trip is like being in limbo, sort of like flying before they added Wi-Fi. I read about a celebrity wedding, hoping it will put me to sleep, when I hear the bass.

The music. Same song, same volume, I recognize all of it. The sound is faint but getting closer.

That damn song.

I get up and stand near the window so I can see the car. Since whoever it is seems determined to wake everyone up, I feel obligated to see who it is.

Yes, I do want to see if it’s the black pickup.

Yes, Felix is still asleep.

The headlights come first, along with the thumping music and rattling windows. Only when the car turns and drives through the motel, not into it, do I see it.

It makes me gasp.

Not a truck or a sports car or a sedan. The car blasting that music is at least twenty years old, with dulled paint and no license plate. A minivan.

Exactly like the one Grandpa had on the last trip.

I rush out, not even bothering to put on shoes, and flinging the door open so hard it bounces back at me. I see the back of the van as it drives out of the parking lot.

I’m not the only one.

Portia has come out of her room, also barefoot, and she looks like she just woke up. ‘Did you see that car?’ she says.

I nod.

Felix is finally awake. He comes up behind me, scaring me half to death when he says, ‘What happened?’

I glare at him. Now he wakes up.

The music fades into the background as the van drives farther away, and as it does, I hear the pounding of my own heart. ‘Twice,’ I say to Portia. ‘It came through twice.’