by Elle Casey
***
Sarah stared at the food on her plate that just didn’t look or smell appetizing, even though she knew normally she’d love it. Macaroni and cheese had been her guilty pleasure since she was old enough to eat solid food - or so her mother had always quipped when she would plop a big gooey spoonful of it down on a lunch plate for her.
Candi hadn’t done anything wrong when she cooked it; it looked fine. But the smell was about to send Sarah into the bathroom. She buried her nose in her water glass, inhaling the non-smell of the clear liquid in an effort to calm her stomach. Whoever had named this kind of nausea morning sickness was a real jerk. A better name would have been all-day-sickness.
“I think it’s a great idea,” said Jonathan. “I’m in favor of either the scooter or motorcycle. I’m kind of partial to scooters in my normal life, but I’m might actually prefer a motorcycle for our current situation.”
“Why?” asked Sarah, her face still in her glass. She was just going to keep using it like a gas mask for as long as it worked like one.
“Scooters are more rare in the United States, first of all. Did you know that of all the developed countries, we have the lowest per capita ownership of these eco-friendly forms of transportation? It’s shameful, really. Anyway, we’d stick out using one. And they’re not as fast, so if we ever had to engage in evasive maneuvers, we’d be better off with more horsepower.”
“Motorcycles are more expensive, though,” said Candi. “And I’d be nervous about riding one.”
“I’ll teach ya,” said Kevin, shoveling another scoop of pasta into his mouth. “It’s easy.” A noodle dropped from his mouth back to his plate.
Sarah had to look away. She was getting angry at him for being so carefree about satisfying his hunger and for being such a slob about it. There was nothing she’d like more than to eat like he was doing right now, enjoying every bite of that gooey, buttery-tasting cheesy mess, but for some really stupid reason Jonathan had tried to explain to her, everything smelled like something rotten and totally unappetizing now.
“I think we could find something for around a thousand dollars, maybe a little more. And if we get an older model, it could be easy to fix or not very expensive to repair, at least,” said Jonathan. “The question is, how do we find it?”
“We’ve gotta go online,” said Kevin. “One or two of us have to go to the grocery store, too.”
“And we need a budget,” said Candi. “This money isn’t going to last forever. Plus, we need to keep money aside for another month of rental if it comes to that.”
Sarah raised her finger. “I can do the budget.”
Everyone at the table looked at each other, saying nothing.
“What? You think I can’t?”
“You spend a minimum of three hundred dollars anytime you shop,” said Candi.
“No, I don’t.”
“I’ve seen you, Sarah. Yes, you do.”
“Okay, fine … so I have done that in the past. But not every time; and when I did, there was no need for a budget. Now there is.” She shot warning looks at everyone. “I’m doing it, so just keep your comments to yourself. You’ll see.” She was going to show these dorks who could make a budget and stick to it. Just because she had taste and liked to spend money, it didn’t mean she couldn’t simplify and live with the bare essentials. “Just tell me what you like to eat and what you can’t live without, and I’ll make it happen.”
Jonathan patted her hand. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“Me too,” said Kevin, barely concealing his grin behind the hand holding his fork. “What’s it gonna have on it? Manicures and pedicures? Those sound like essentials to me.”
Sarah threw her wadded-up paper towel napkin at him. “Shut up. And don’t bother putting beer on the list because that’s definitely non-essential.”
“Hey, now …,” said Kevin, pointing at her.
“I agree with Sarah,” said Jonathan. “No alcohol. No soda. Just water … and fresh juice for Sarah.”
“No soda, even? Come on, don’t you think you’re taking this a little to the extreme?” asked Kevin.
“No, not at all. We can’t get jobs to earn more money. This is all we have, and that’s barring any emergencies. What if one of us gets hurt? We need transportation back to the trial, and we’ll need money not just for that but for staying hidden up until the day we testify.”
“Fine,” grumbled Kevin. “I’m going to stay out of it. Just give me food a few times a day, and I won’t say anything else.”
“Yes, you will,” said Sarah. “You’ll complain and whine and make us all want to kick your butt. But I, for one, won’t be listening.”
Kevin looked over at Candi, but she shook her head. “Me neither. We all have to sacrifice. If I can’t have a soda or a candy bar until the trial, then you’re just going to have to suck it up too. No beer.”
“You guys think I care about beer that much? I don’t at all. I could care less about that. But soda? Can’t we even get the generic stuff? It’s less than a buck.”
“I’ll let you know,” said Sarah, serenely. “I’ll have the budget completed by tomorrow after breakfast. I suggest we shop immediately afterwards.”
Jonathan looked around the table. “Do we all agree with the basic plan, then? We’re going to shop for a motorcycle and get some groceries?”
Everyone nodded.
“This means someone’s going out in the car to do that stuff. Who’s going?” asked Sarah.
“Candi should go. She looks the least like any picture of her,” said Jonathan.
“I’ll go with her,” said Kevin.
“No, I think it should be Sarah,” said Jonathan. “She can disguise herself much better than you or I can. All she has to do is be without makeup and put her hair up, and she’ll look much different than her pictures.”
“Are you saying I’m ugly with my hair up?”
Jonathan’s eyes widened in alarm. “No. No way. Not at all. You’re beautiful with your hair up. You just look different.”
“Stop fishing for compliments,” said Candi smirking at her.
“I’m not. Just clarifying.” Sarah was more than happy with Jonathan’s explanation. He was pretty much incapable of lying to her. That was another reason she was going to make this trip tomorrow, even though she would have preferred hiding out of sight in the cabin and resting her poor stomach - Jonathan, if caught, would probably totally implicate himself and everyone else, getting them all unintentionally killed. No. If there was lying to be done, it was she who was going to have to do it. Even Sugar Lump was a possible problem. The lies could probably actually come out of her mouth, but whether they’d be convincing or not was a whole other issue.
“Okay, so Sarah and I will go into town with her shopping list and buy some groceries and then go online somewhere. But do you expect us to find a motorcycle and bring it back, too? Because I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen.”
“Oh. That is a problem, isn’t it?” asked Jonathan, frowning.
“You could do it,” said Kevin. “I’ll give you a lesson in the morning.”
“Isn’t that going to be a little difficult, seeing as how we don’t have one to practice with?” asked Candi, sounding as skeptical as Sarah felt about the whole thing.
“It’ll be a challenge, but I’m up for it.” Kevin leaned his chair back and rubbed his stomach. “Man, I’m full. What’s on TV tonight?”
“Maybe nothing,” said Candi. “I’m not sure if the owner got the cable turned on or not.”
Kevin pushed his chair back. “No better time than the present to check, then.”
“You’re not going anywhere until the dishes are done and the kitchen cleaned,” she warned.
Kevin froze in the middle of standing up. “Uhhh … excuse me? What was that? Come again?”
Candi stood, taking her plate over to the kitchen sink. “You heard me. Girls make the dinner, guys clean it up.”
Kevin sno
rted. “Yeah, right.”
Sarah stood too. “Free ride’s over, bro. Start cleaning.”
“But … this place doesn’t even have a friggin dishwasher!” Kevin sputtered, looking at Jonathan for support. “Come on, man. Are you gonna put up with this?”
Jonathan shrugged. “What’s there to put up with? We ate the meal. I don’t see why they should have to prepare it and clean up after everyone. It seems fair to share the workload.”
Kevin let out an annoyed burst of air. “Whatever, dude. You’re so friggin whipped I don’t know why I even bother asking you anything anymore.” He grabbed his plate and utensils and stormed over to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t expect me to do a good job. I’ve never done dishes in my life.”
“Well,” said Candi, coming up behind him and draping a dish towel over his shoulder, “it’s about time you learned, then, isn’t it?”
He dropped the dishes in the sink and grabbed the towel off his shoulder, turning it into a makeshift whip so fast, Candi never saw it coming.
“Youch!” she screeched after the crack of it hitting her butt had her automatically running for the stairs. “Get away from me!” She flew up to the second floor and shut herself into the bedroom. “Go do your work, dish wench!” she yelled from behind the door. Her voice was muffled but clear enough that Kevin heard the insult just fine.
“Dish wench? Oh, man … you are so going down when I get my hands on you.” He walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen, flipping the faucet on high and banging things around in the sink.
Sarah and Jonathan watched from off to the side. “Do you think I should show him how to do the dishes?” whispered Jonathan.
“I think you should supervise. But whatever you do, don’t let him con you into doing the work for him.”
“Oh, I won’t,” assured Jonathan. “I’ll just give him some tips on the proper temperature of the water and the importance of removing all possible bacteria using enough soap and proper scrubbing technique.” He moved away, intent on his new role as kitchen supervisor.
“You do that, babe,” said Sarah, already laughing inside at the feathers Jonathan was going to ruffle with her formerly highly-coddled, now lowly dish-wench of a brother.
She left them to their task and climbed the stairs to join Candi, finding her on her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She joined her, lying on her side, facing her friend. “Whatchya thinkin’ about?”
“Oh, nothing. Just the idea of driving a death machine that I have no idea how to operate, the images of being pulled over, arrested, interrogated, transported back home, and then finally murdered by having my neck slit … Like I said … nothing much.”
Sarah reached out and pressed her forefinger into the middle of Candi’s forehead and left it there.
“What in the heck are you doing?” asked Candi, not moving.
“I’m not sure. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Well … strangely enough, it’s taking my mind off my impending doom and now focusing it on your insanity.” She moved her eyes as far to the right as possible. “Thanks. I think.”
Sarah removed her finger. “You’re welcome. But for the record, I don’t think you need to worry about it so much.”
Candi turned her head to look at Sarah. “Oh yeah? Why? Are you psychic now in addition to being pregnant?”
“No. I’m just playing the odds, as Jonathan likes to say. I mean, we’re in the middle of some shit … I mean, crap town, out in the woods where no one will ever see or hear us. We’re going to make a single trip in that car, and then we’ll be done with it until it’s time to go. The chances of us getting pulled over in it are very slim. I’ve driven my car around for over a year … almost two … and I’ve never been pulled over even once.”
“Yeah, but your car wasn’t stolen.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. As long as you obey the laws and don’t do anything stupid, they won’t even bother checking the license plate. Do you know how many Toyota Camry’s there are on the road?”
“No.”
“Well, Jonathan enlightened me. There are a lot. So it’s not like the cops just run plates randomly through their computer. They do that when they pull you over if you can’t produce a registration that makes any sense. Just don’t get pulled over, and you’ll be fine.”
“What if we do? What’s the plan?”
“Well …” Sarah thought about it for a second, letting her mind wander over to that horrific scenario she’d avoided thinking about, specifically because it really had no good ending. “Hmmm … I guess we try to run for it. Chances are there will only be one cop, so one of us will get away. The other just has to keep her mouth shut.”
“It won’t work. I’ve run it through my head a million times. Say we get pulled over. Say I get caught.”
“So far that makes sense,” said Sarah. “I’m much faster than you, so you will be the one who gets caught.”
“No, you’re not; but whatever. Say I get caught …”
“I’ll race you.”
“Sarah, shut up. You’re not faster than me and you’re interrupting.”
“I’m just saying. Let’s race. I’ll bet I beat you.”
Candi frowned hard. “Fine. We’ll race tomorrow, and I’ll show everyone how slow you are. But back to the real issue, which is not racing but death by assassination. So … say I get caught. I say nothing, but they run the plates on the car in the computer and find out it’s from our area. Then they report some girl has this stolen car and there was another girl in the car with her, they send them pictures of me, maybe of you too, and bam. We’re done. They say, Ship her back, she’s a wanted felon, and then I’m done. Dead. Probably hung in the jail, making it look like a suicide.” Tears were shining in her eyes. “I don’t want to be a fake teen suicide … or a real one for that matter.”
Sarah reached over and pressed her finger into Candi’s forehead again. “You’re not going to be a teen suicide. If you get caught we’ll just … bust you out of jail or whatever.”
Candi laughed bitterly. “That only works in the movies, Sarah. It’s not going to work in real life.”
“How about this, though … if you got caught and told them you were only fifteen, they wouldn’t be able to put you in jail, right? You’d have to go into a juvenile place.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, maybe those are easy to escape from.”
“Right. They make prisons for kids who like to run away easy to get away from.”
Sarah frowned. “Oh, yeah. That doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
“No,” sighed Candi, “but I appreciate the effort.”
“Well, you know … we have a gun. If someone tries to take you, we could just hold them up and make them let you go.”
Candi pushed her shoulder. “Don’t you even think about doing something that stupid! Could you imagine? You’d get shot for sure. Cops are allowed to shoot to kill and they have training, Sarah. They practice hitting targets in the heart. Do not even talk about that stupid gun. We should bury the damn thing.”
“Heck no, we should not! If that killer shows up, I’m going to shoot his ass and his heart. That gun could save our lives one day.”
“Fine. I won’t bury the gun. But we’re not bringing it tomorrow.”
Sarah didn’t reply because she wasn’t sure she agreed.
“Sarah, I’m serious. Say it. No guns.”
“No guns … ” … out in the open where you can see it.
“Are your fingers crossed behind your back?” Candi asked.
“Why so suspicious?”
“Because you never go down this easy.”
“You know me too well, Sugar Lump. It’s getting annoying.”
Candi reached over and pushed her forefinger into the middle of Sarah’s forehead. “Don’t frown. It’s giving you wrinkles.”
“Are you serious?” asked Sarah, sitting up, wishing she had a mirror in bed with her
to check.
Candi laughed, rolling over again onto her back. “No, I’m not serious.” She yawned. “Wake me up for TV.”
“Wake yourself up,” said Sarah, rolling over onto her other side. “I’m taking a little dessert nap.” The vision of herself waving a gun around at a police officer who was trying to take her friend into juvie was the last thing she remembered before falling into a heavy slumber.
***
Candi pulled out onto the main road, making sure to use her turn signals. “We’re almost there, and believe it or not, I haven’t had a heart attack yet.”
“See? I told you it was no big deal,” said Sarah. “We just need to get in and out, no big.”
“No big. Right.” Candi was scanning the street in front of her, looking for cop cars that might be coming for them at any minute.
“Pull into that plaza,” ordered Sarah. “There’s a grocery store and a copy shop. Double score.”
Candi did as she was told, making a perfect turn, signaling ahead, and all the while keeping her eyes peeled for officers of the law.
“I’ll do the shopping, you do the Internet searching,” said Sarah.
“No, we need to stick together. Let’s do the Internet search first.”
“Why not shop first?”
“Because, the food will spoil if we find someone and have to go through all the time to get the buying done.”
“Good point. Okay, lead on, then. To the copy shop.”
Candi turned off the car and grabbed the duffle bag from the back seat. It didn’t have all the money in it - just enough to pay for the groceries and a cheap motorcycle. She tried to ignore the twisting her stomach did every time she imagined riding one of those things. Jonathan’s scooter was one thing, but a real motorcycle that could go fast enough to be on the highway? That was a whole different animal.
They walked to the copy shop, both of them keeping their heads down and going as fast as they could without looking crazy. Candi had to battle to keep from grabbing Sarah’s hand and running. She was terrified of being out in public now; she felt watched and hunted by some unseen monster. Being prey totally sucked.
They walked in the door and Candi was immediately on her guard. This place was much smaller and not nearly as anonymous as the other one. Her eyes scanned the room to take inventory of the situation. Three copy machines, one computer, two employees staring at us. Candi cleared her throat without thinking, trying to clear the blockage that felt like it was in there cutting off her air.
