Nothing

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. His voice was rough.

  “Yeah you do,” she said instantly.

  He glared at her. His eyes were red. “She just broke up with me, okay? So I’m not feeling really great right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why’d she break up with you?”

  Pause. “Because I forgot to call her last night.”

  Frankie tried not to give him a you-moron look. “You forgot?”

  He sighed. “Yeah. I know. I’m an asshole. I get it. I just, like, wasn’t thinking about it.” He gave her a dark look. “I was babysitting.”

  “FU,” said Frankie evenly. “And she was mad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I bet she was more hurt than mad. Disappointed and all that.”

  “No,” he said bitterly. “Mad is what she was.”

  “You sounded pretty mad, too,” Frankie pointed out.

  “Nice you’re on my side,” he said.

  Pause.

  “I know you said you were sorry,” Frankie said, “but I was over there on the couch and you didn’t sound very sorry. You sounded, um, pretty defensive.”

  “I felt like she was attacking me,” he protested. “I mean, I apologized. What else am I supposed to do?”

  Frankie rolled her eyes at him. “Tell her you’re sorry like you’re sorry. Tell her she’s the greatest and you miss her. Jesus.”

  “I did all that,” Max said sullenly.

  “No, you didn’t,” Frankie said. She hesitated. “I don’t get it. You’re fine at apologizing around here. You’re really nice and easy. Why are you such a hardass when you talk to her?”

  He shook his head.

  She kicked him gently on the ankle. “It’s because you really like her, isn’t it?” She nodded, agreeing with herself. “You’re scared because she has so much power over you.”

  “Shut up,” he said. But he gave her little smile. “I get enough psychology from her.” Pause. “Or I did, anyway.”

  “Max.” He looked at her. “I hate to say this, but you’re a tap.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, really. You really like her, and you act like a dick to her, because you really like her. That is just fucked-up. That is typical guy bullshit.”

  Max put his hands over his eyes and groaned. “I know.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I fucked it up like this.”

  Frankie felt herself getting angry. “So? Grow a pair and call her back. Tell her you love her—you know you do—and stop being a dick.”

  Max looked at the phone in his hands. “What if she doesn’t answer?”

  “Then—where is she?”

  “Some little town up north.”

  “In California?”

  He nodded.

  “So if she doesn’t pick up, go get her! Jesus Christ! She’s, like, a few hours away!” Frankie felt like hitting him.

  “Good thing you’re not a hardass,” Max muttered, but he was going to his Recents at the same time. Frankie watched his face as he waited. One. Two. Th— “Raina?” he said. Frankie let out a relieved breath. “Hi. I don’t want to break up.” He stood and went into his bathroom and shut the door.

  Frankie moved back to the couch and lay down, watching the leaden sky. There was no going back to sleep; she was wide awake. Happy New Year to me, she thought.

  She heard a click and swiveled around to look at him. He was smiling. She lifted her eyebrows in a question. He nodded happily. “Good job,” she called softly, and stood.

  “You guys need to get out of here,” he said. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

  “Go fuck yourself, I saved your relationship,” said Frankie. “Get dressed in the bathroom.”

  He grinned. “Okay.”

  “How come you have to get dressed right this second anyway?”

  “I’m going up there to get her,” he said, his eyes shining.

  “Thank you, Frankie,” she said.

  “Thank you, Frankie,” he repeated obediently. He picked up a jacket. “She was like, crying when I called. She didn’t want to break up, either. And she said it was partly that she’s having such a shitty vacation. I mean, that’s why she was so upset.”

  “Why’s she having a shitty vacation?”

  “Her stepmom doesn’t like her, and her dad doesn’t stand up for her.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad.” Frankie hesitated, an idea forming in her mind. “Max?”

  “Huh?”

  “She’s coming back here with you? Like, to stay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about Grant?”

  “Grant?” said Max carelessly. “He can stay with Zack. Or Nabai. Besides, he’s got to go see his dad for a couple of days. ’Cause Dad pays the bills.”

  “And where’s this town Raina lives in?”

  “It’s—here, I can show you.” Max sat down on the bed and pulled his laptop toward him. “It’s up here, off the 5. McCloud, it’s called. Lemme see”—he clicked keys, making his happy-robot noises—“not bad. It’s only about four hours away.”

  “Can I see?” Frankie held her hand out for the laptop and did a little clicking of her own while Max disappeared into the bathroom.

  When he came out, she closed the laptop. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He bustled about, putting on socks. “She says it’s cold up there.”

  “Yeah. Max, can Char and I go with you?”

  He frowned. “No. Get out of here. Why?”

  “Come on, it’s not like you have to get a room the minute you see her!” Max blushed and Frankie continued, “You’re bringing her back here anyway. So we’d just be coming along for the ride. We’d keep you company. I could even help you drive! Also, girls like guys who are nice to their sisters. We’ll make you look good!”

  “Well. Okay,” he said slowly. “I guess you can. If you want to. Why would you want to?”

  “New Year’s Day is the most boring day of the year. It’s a perfect day for a road trip. Plus, we like you! We want to spend time with you!”

  Max glanced over at Charlotte’s sleeping form. “I can see that. Okay, you can go, but you have to be ready in half an hour.”

  NOTHING

  I am in a very nice place involving a lake and a lot of cute ducks when I am rudely interrupted.

  “Wake up, you bum.”

  It’s Frankie. She is shaking me, not very gently.

  “Getup, getup, getup,” she chants.

  “No,” I groan. I have to find this one duck. I roll over and slap around for a pillow to put over my head, but I don’t have a pillow. Why don’t I have a pillow? I lurch up and yell something along the lines of “What? What?”

  Frankie starts laughing at me. “Dude looks like a la-dy!” she bellows.

  Stupid Aerosmith. “Meanie,” I mumble, and drop back down. “Why do I have to get up?”

  “Because we’re going on a road trip to reunite Max and his girlfriend. They already had a fight and broke up and got back together this morning, and he’s going to go up and rescue her from her wicked stepmother.”

  “Wow.” I look at the ceiling. “What time is it?”

  “Nine.”

  “That’s a lot of action for only nine,” I say. “When are we going?”

  “Now!”

  Now turns out to mean in an hour. Because I have to wash my face and get dressed and brush my teeth and then get dressed again because Max’s girlfriend lives up where it’s cold. Plus, Sharon says she has a responsibility to make sure I eat breakfast even if her own children are idiots, so I have to sit down and eat (Max and Frankie heave dramatic sighs, but they also choke down a lot of toast, too). Unlike me, Frankie can function without coffee, but she is such a good friend that she tells her mom she really needs some, so Sharon makes a pot and we all gulp it down. While we are gulping, I text friendly New Year greetings to Mom and Dad, asking them interested questions about their night at the beach and slipping in
an announcement about the road trip concept too. But there is no problem. If it’s okay with Sharon, it’s okay with us, we trust Max, have fun, Mom texts, drive safe, beach beautiful But cloudy, we’ll be back tomorrow afternoon around 2, Granddad says he and Ollie had fun love and kisses, Robin says hi.

  All this with one finger.

  We pile into the car. We pile out of the car and get some extra jackets and a blanket, which Frankie says we need for some reason. We pile back into the car. Max forgot his wallet. Oops! I should take my purse. And my charger. So should Frankie. We pile out of the car. Sharon has packed us some lunch. We pile back into the car. Wait! We should bring some leftover cake! We are about to pile out again, when Sharon comes running down the steps with a container. She thought we should take some cake. We love Sharon! Max starts the car. Tom comes running down the stairs. Max rolls down the window.

  “Go get the girl, son!” Tom says, and gives Max a thumbs-up.

  “Dad!” Frankie yells.

  And we’re off.

  You want to know what’s ugly? Freeways. Maybe there are pretty freeways somewhere, but not in California. They’re covered with garbage and pathetic stuff that people have thrown out of their cars, like blankets and sofas. The sofas bum me out. I mean, think about it—at one point, someone picked out that sofa, thinking, This here is a good-looking sofa. How ’bout those purple flowers! And then it was in their house for fifteen years and then they gave it to their cousin who died and her rotten children stuck it in their house and finally when it was a sagging, ripped-up mess, they drove it to the freeway in the middle of the night and dumped it. And there it is, with its poor old purple flowers, upside down in the dirt. That is so fucking depressing.

  I share these reflections with Sid. He says he agrees. Then he says we should start a Save the Sofa movement. We could go around picking up sofas off the side of the road and then we’d put them in a giant field like they do old horses, so they could live out their days in peace. Old people could go and sit in them, too.

  He’s so great.

  I tell him I feel better now.

  Good

  I lean over the front seat to let Frankie in on the conversation. She reads it and nods. “Good idea,” she says.

  “Isn’t he the greatest?” I sigh.

  “The greatest,” she agrees, because she is my main. She looks over at Max, driving. “But you’re okay, too.”

  “Thanks,” he says. “Who’s the greatest?”

  “This guy Charlotte is having a textual relationship with. Sid,” says Frankie, and I stare at her because that’s weird, letting Max know my personal stuff. Not necessarily bad, but weird. And then she goes on. “But she’s never met him. She’s never even seen him, because he doesn’t put his picture up on the internet.”

  “Jeez, good for him,” says Max.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, interested.

  “Because it’s shallow and everyone posts these fake pictures of themselves looking perfect. It’s a waste of time.”

  “Wow,” says Frankie. “You rebel.”

  “Probably it’s because he has two noses,” I say, kind of brooding.

  Max laughs. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

  “Really, it’s probably acne,” I say.

  “Could be,” he says. This is not exactly comforting. “But then again, maybe he really doesn’t believe in it.” More comforting.

  “Charlotte thinks she’s never going to meet him even though they text like twenty-five times a day,” Frankie goes on. “Right, Char?”

  I look at her suspiciously. “Why are you telling Max all this, Frankie? Is this part of the Fight the Fight campaign? I told you, I don’t want to hear that.”

  Frankie ignores me. “Char says that since she can’t drive and he can’t drive and her parents won’t let her get on a train or a plane alone and he hasn’t suggested doing those things, either, they’re never going to meet.”

  “Frankie!” I yell. “What’s your problem? Leave me alone!”

  “I am,” she says. “I’m just telling Max what you think. I’m updating him on your ideas. Charlotte thinks it’s ridiculous to even be interested in the guy because she has no way to meet him.”

  Max glances over at her, kind of frowning. “I think you’re upsetting Charlotte, Frankie.” He means Shut up. Thank you, Max.

  “Okay,” she says. “I’ll shut up.” She’s pretty damn cheerful about it, too. She starts looking through her phone. “Do we want Drake or Aerosmith?”

  “Neither,” says Max.

  Then they argue about music while I do some more brooding.

  I take it back. This part of the freeway is pretty. They’ve got the mountain thing going big-time up here, with genuine snow-covered peaks. Nice. Foresty. [Not exactly the most beautiful description, but you know what? I hate descriptions. “The stony mountain peaks were cloaked in a mantle of purple light.” Yeah, yeah, tell someone who cares.]

  “Are we almost there?” I yell because I’m too lazy to lean over the front seat.

  “I think so,” Frankie says. She looks at Max. “He’s getting all excited.”

  “Shut up,” he says.

  Now we are on a different road. It’s a “Scenic Byway,” by golly. Who decides these things? Is it a job?

  “Here,” says Max, tossing his phone to Frankie. “Tell me how to get there.”

  I guess we must be almost there.

  “I think you’re supposed to go right here,” says Frankie, squinting at the screen. “Were supposed to go right there,” she adds as we pass the road.

  “You’ve got to give me a little more notice than that,” says Max, pulling over. “Hand me the phone.” Now he’s squinting. “You’re full of shit. We don’t turn until here. See? We’re here.” Frankie leans over to peer at the screen. Huh. You can sort of tell that they’re brother and sister. I’ve never thought that before. They figure it out and Max pulls back on the road. So this is a road trip. I like it. It’s boring, but in a good way.

  He turns. Then he and Frankie gripe at each other and he turns again. Left and up. Wow. We’re high. There aren’t that many houses. I’d hate to live out here. There is not one goddamn thing to do. Unless you’re into fishing or some such shit. Now Max is slowing down. Now he’s craning his head, trying to see house numbers on mailboxes. Now he’s pulling off the road beside a long driveway. He kills the engine.

  Silence. Then he turns to Frankie. “Okay?”

  “Beyond.”

  Oh my gosh, he was asking how he looked! That is so adorable! He takes a deep breath and gets out of the car. “Just stay here, okay?”

  Frankie and I nod enthusiastically. We support young love. Go, Max!

  He disappears down the driveway.

  “How long do you think it’s going to take?” I ask.

  Frankie turns around. “Deek. Watch out, I’m coming back.” She does the worm over the top of the front seat and drops onto my legs.

  “Hey hey hey!” I yell, slapping her. “Ow—you could come through the door, you know. Je-sus!”

  “Too cold,” she says. She starts thumping me, and I fall off the seat and she takes my place and then we start fighting—not for real, of course—and then we’re exhausted and then we do some fine singing and then we take pictures of the sky, and I guess maybe a half an hour has gone by when we hear a door slam.

  So we sit up—boing, like a couple of prairie dogs—to see. There’s Max, and gee, he really does look happy, and there’s his girlfriend. She’s tall and pretty in that super-healthy way. You know, fresh and glowing. Max has his arm around her and they stop in the middle of the driveway and hug—aww—and then they’re kissing, and Frankie and I look at each other, eeek, and dive back down again, giggling.

  “We’re so mature,” I say.

  “We are!” says Frankie. “We’re being respectful.”

  “They’re really going to enjoy having us in the backseat watching them all the way home,” I say. “Look! Here’s me
, being respectful!” I get really close to Frankie’s face and bug my eyes out.

  But Frankie isn’t paying attention. She’s—what?—putting her jacket on and getting out of the car. “Franklin!” I say, but she doesn’t stop. She’s walking right to Max and girlfriend. I mean, they’ve stopped kissing, but still. Not respectful. Jeez.

  The three of them stand in the driveway for a long time, talking. What the hell? Are they discussing the weather? First Frankie talks for a while, with assorted gestures I can’t figure out. Max and girlfriend (I will start calling her by her name as soon as I remember it) are nodding and saying occasional words. Why isn’t Max telling her to fuck off and get back in the car? Then Max looks at girlfriend and raises his eyebrows. Girlfriend shrugs and smiles and—cute!—pulls his arm around her. Max looks down at her and grins, and then he turns back to Frankie. He’s saying something. He’s shaking his head. Girlfriend nods. Frankie turns around to look at the car and then turns back to him.

  I repeat, What the fuck?

  Now Frankie’s walking, hard, to the car. She slides in next to me and slams the door shut. “They won’t let me do it the way I want,” she says grumpily. “They say I have to tell you or it’s unethical. Assholes.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s gripping but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She’s not looking at me. “We’re four hours and twenty-one minutes away from Sisters, Oregon.” I make an involuntary weird noise, which she ignores. “Max and Raina are willing to go but not unless you say you want to.” She turns to look at me. “So. You want to?”

  Now?

  Today?

  I open my mouth, but what I say is, “Why would they do this?”

  “Who? Max and Raina?” Frankie asks and I nod. “Max owes me, first of all, and second, they kind of want you to meet Sid.”

  I blink.

  Frankie does not consider this an answer. “Char, it’s not like life or death.”

  I nod.

  Frankie does not consider this an answer either. “We’re not going to leave you up there. We’re going to take you to visit him for, like, an hour.”

  I nod some more.

  “You said ‘How could it ever happen?’ and now it can happen,” says Frankie. There is a not-tiny note of irritation in her voice. “If you’re not willing to do this, I might kill you, Char.”