yolo

by Sam Jones

The sound Ana made in response was not pleasant, but she didn’t throw herself from the moving car, so Emily decided to call it a win.

  “Lunch sounds good,” Brandon piped up from the backseat. “I could use a couple burgers.”

  “You could use a good kick in the nuts,” Ana muttered.

  Something snapped inside of Emily, and she pulled over to the curb and slammed on the breaks. Their seat belts almost cut them in half.

  “ENOUGH.” Emily’s voice was like a foghorn. Ana’s eyes went wide, but her mouth stayed closed. Emily put the car in park and turned in her seat. “I can’t handle it anymore. I was the one who said this would be a disaster from the beginning, but no one would listen to me. And I was right.”

  Ana flipped her hair over her shoulder. “But—”

  “But nothing!” Emily grabbed Ana’s knee and squeezed. “Did you listen to me when I said ‘Don’t start dating Brandon because it will ruin everything’?”

  Ana shook her head. Emily turned to Brandon in the backseat.

  “And you! Did you listen to me when I said, ‘Don’t start dating Ana because it will ruin everything’?”

  Brandon held up both hands in surrender. “She beguiled me with her feminine charms. Evil woman witchcraft.”

  “Aaaaargh!” Ana clenched her fists and shook them in the air. “Em, why are you doing this to me?”

  “This isn’t something I’m doing to you, it’s something you’re doing to me,” Emily said. “I’ve had to put up with both of you this whole year since you broke up. Besides being a huge pain in my ass emotionally, it has been a scheduling nightmare. I’m done. I’ve had it. I want both of you at this party. I want both of you to ride up with me. After what I’ve dealt with for the past nine months, the two of you can deal with it for the next six hours.”

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, there were tears in Emily’s eyes, and she whirled back to face the windshield. But it was too late. Ana caught a glimpse and reached out to put a hand on her arm.

  “I just want my friends back,” Emily said, brushing her tears away before they could make her mascara run. “Is that too much to ask?”

  Ana glanced into the backseat at Brandon, who shot her the mischievous grin that had won her over in an instant, then tormented her for a year. She sighed and turned back to Emily. “I’ll do my best, but only because I love you and you’re my best friend. Just as long as he leaves me alone.”

  Emily adjusted the rearview mirror so she could see Brandon. “Brandon? Can you handle that?”

  Brandon smirked at her in the mirror. “Yeah, sure. I can handle that.”

  Ana turned up the music. Emily put the car in drive, merged into traffic, then made a quick right turn. As she pulled up the on-ramp onto the highway, the clock on the dash flipped from 11:59 to 12:00, and she smiled. Finally, they were on the right track. Ana must have felt it too, because she began dancing right there in the front seat, and then Brandon was singing at the top of his lungs, and as Emily merged into traffic she couldn’t help singing along. The tension of the past few minutes, and the past few months, started to melt away from her neck and shoulders. The worst was over, and Emily knew it’d be nothing but a good time for the rest of the weekend.

  chapter 4

  “Oh my God. Why are you doing that to us?”

  “What?” Emily turned down the volume just a little.

  “Singing Pink like Julie Andrews.”

  Brandon snort-laughed in the backseat.

  “Shut up!” Emily slapped at Ana’s leg, but she couldn’t help giggling. They’d been on the road for an hour now. The suburbs had gradually receded into the distance, and now they just had open road ahead of them. With the release of all the tension from before, things had been nothing but great, and now it seemed Brandon and Ana were even starting to get along, if Brandon’s continued laughter was any indication. “You two are supposed to hate each other,” Emily said, “not gang up and hate on me.”

  “Pobrecita.” Ana rubbed the tip of her thumb and forefinger together. “This is the world’s smallest violin playing ‘Cry Me a River.’ ”

  Brandon’s head popped between the front seats. “Hey, speaking of violins, remember that chick from NYU who came to the Steins’ Labor Day party and got so wasted she took her violin into the hot tub and played ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’?”

  “She was a train wreck,” Ana said.

  “True,” said Emily, “but she had surprisingly good technique.”

  “Hope she’s back again this time.” Brandon sighed. “I could use a little technique myself.”

  Emily groaned while Ana spun in her seat. “That! That right there.”

  “What?” Brandon sounded surprised, but Emily could hear the smirk in his voice. He loved egging Ana on.

  “You are such a pig,” Ana huffed.

  “Wait, what? How am I a pig because I want to make out with a hot girl?”

  “I’m right HERE.” Ana shook her head.

  “And I’d make out with you if you still wanted to,” said Brandon. “You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?”

  “Because of crap like that,” Ana said. “We were still together at that Labor Day party, and your tongue was hanging so far out of your mouth, it’s a wonder you didn’t trip on it and break your neck.”

  “So what?” Brandon said. “We were dating, not dead. So I wasn’t supposed to notice when there are other hot girls around just because I was going out with you?”

  Emily sighed. “Guys. You’re doing it again.” Brandon and Ana both started talking at the same time, and Emily decided to use her considerable vocal power to put her proverbial foot down. She switched off the radio and shouted, “GUYS!”

  Ana and Brandon flopped back against their respective seats.

  “Thank you,” Emily said. “Look, Brandon, I think what Ana means is that of course you’re going to notice other girls, but that she wants to be the one you notice the most. It’s one thing to see other hot girls. It’s another thing to pay so much attention to them that your girlfriend feels ignored.”

  “Exactly what I was trying to say,” Ana chimed in.

  Emily held up her hand to silence her friend. “And, Ana, what Brandon is saying, is that he was there at the party with you, and that he wanted you to trust him and feel secure enough in your relationship that you didn’t care if he noticed some other hot girl, because you know you’re hot just the way you are. Insecurity is never sexy.”

  “Totally,” Brandon said from the backseat. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?” Emily glanced at Brandon in the rearview mirror.

  “Sum up what both of us were saying like you’re some sort of freakin’ psychologist?”

  Emily smiled. “I just pay attention to both of you. I love you guys. You’re my friends. It’s the reason I didn’t think you would ever work as a couple: You would both be so worried about losing the other one that you’d never actually do the simple things you’re supposed to do to make sure that doesn’t happen. Like listen to each other.”

  They drove in silence for a little while. Emily knew she’d probably hit a nerve with both of her friends, since she’d never explicitly stated why she thought they shouldn’t date. But now it was out there, and they could think about that for a while. She didn’t mind the silence. She’d liked the easy-going attitude they’d had just a few minutes before, but the silence was more welcome than the incessant arguing that was bound to happen otherwise. And out here on the highway, there was only the rumbling monotone of car tires speeding down the pavement road. The forest around them was just starting to transform into open farmland, and the sun was shining, and they were making great time. If this was going to be the trip, Emily had little to complain about.

  “Sooo,” Ana said slowly, extending the word as she turned in her seat to face Emily. “Who do you want to meet at the party?”

  Emily blinked. “Me? Meet?”

  “Yeah,” Brandon chimed in. “What’s your best cas
e scenario for this weekend?”

  “I have zero expectations,” Emily said. “I just want to have a good time.”

  “Bullshit, mamacita.” Ana was having none of it. “You don’t fool me. Not one little bit.”

  “What?” Emily put on her wide-eyed innocent look, but Brandon wasn’t buying either.

  “Oh, c’mon.” Brandon let out an exaggerated sign. “There it is. The trademark Emily O’Brian big eyes of I-don’t-know-what-you-mean. Dead giveaway.”

  “A dead giveaway for what?” Emily was blushing now, her voice floating up a couple of octaves toward squeak territory.

  “A dead giveaway that you have a plan,” Ana said, narrowing her eyes. “In fact, you know exactly what you’re looking for at this party, don’t you?”

  Emily kept both eyes forward. “I will not stand for these wild allegations.”

  “Oh, gimme a break,” Brandon shot back. “You’ve already got him imagined right down to the skinny jeans and the Columbia student ID. You’re looking for pre-med—”

  “Or pre-law,” Ana cut in, “and a loft in Tribeca that Daddy bought when he was in junior high to make sure he didn’t have to live in the dorm.”

  “Ooh, good one,” Brandon held up a high five which Ana smacked, much to Emily’s amazement.

  “See?” Emily said. “The two of you are never more united than when your purpose is to make me miserable.”

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” Brandon said. “I bet you’re looking for one of those poor little rich boys who wishes he lived over in Williamsburg, but he’s decided to tough it out in Tribeca and just grow a beard in solidarity.” Brandon was laughing so hard he could barely finish painting this picture.

  “A beard? Ew.”

  “Oh please. Ew all you want. You are so easy to peg,” Ana said, twisting a strand of her hair around her fingers. “It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “What makes you think that’s what I’d be looking for?”

  “You have a type.” Brandon announced this as if he were stating that the sky was, indeed, blue. “You love a rich pretty boy with a broken heart and a bank account. You like ’em complicated.”

  “Kyle wasn’t complicated,” Emily protested.

  “Exactly,” said Ana. “And look how that ended up?”

  “Don’t make me pull this car over,” Emily growled.

  “I wish you would,” said Brandon. “I’m starving.”

  “Well, you should have thought about that before you started openly mocking the driver.” Emily shot an evil grin at Brandon.

  “C’mon, Em, I’m so hungry,” Brandon pleaded.

  “Don’t call me ‘Em.’ And stop begging. It’s not cute.”

  “Well, it can be . . .” Ana said under her breath but still loud enough for Emily to hear.

  “What?” Emily’s jaw dropped open.

  “Nothing,” Ana said quickly, though she was smiling as she remembered something.

  “When did you make Brandon beg?” Emily demanded. “Tell me. Now.”

  “Beg? I never begged,” Brandon said loudly.

  “Keep clinging to that raft, big guy.” Ana had a spark in her eye.

  “Spill it,” said Emily.

  “Let’s just say, I can make this one squirm,” Ana told Emily, jabbing a thumb in Brandon’s direction.

  “Whatever!” Brandon howled in the backseat. “I’d never give you the satisfaction.”

  “Likewise,” Ana told Emily. “Why do you think he was squirming?”

  “Foul!” Brandon yelled.

  Emily was laughing. Ana giving Brandon a hard time was definitely better than Ana and Brandon giving her a hard time. This is what she loved most about having these two as her best friends: No one was going to let anyone get away with anything. She could totally be herself.

  “I’ll have both of you know that I am certainly not looking for a college boy,” Emily announced. “Or an heir. I’m not looking for anything really. Just a good time.”

  “Yeah, a good time named Trenton Percival Howell III,” teased Brandon.

  “Wearing Ray-Bans,” giggled Ana.

  Even Emily had to laugh at this. “Ray-Bans?” she asked. “Really? My type is so particular he has specific sunglasses?”

  “And underwear,” Brandon said. “Calvin Klein boxer briefs.”

  “Totally!” Ana was laughing so hard she had tears running down her cheeks.

  “Don’t make me pull this car over.” Emily tried to sound like an angry dad on a TV show, but this just made Ana laugh harder. “I’ll pull it over and kick you guys out and leave you there.”

  “For the love of God, if you do pull the car over and leave us on the side of the road, please do it near some kind of rest stop because I’m starving. My stomach is literally eating itself.” Brandon curled up in the backseat and groaned.

  “We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere,” Emily said as she looked around.

  “So is that place.” Ana pointed at an old and tattered billboard as they passed under it. RICK’S DINER: BREAKFAST, LUNCH, AND DINNER. OPEN 24-HOURS. HOME OF THE STRAWBERRY TSUNAMI.

  “What the hell is a Strawberry Tsunami?” Brandon wondered aloud.

  “Only one way to find out,” Emily said. She put on her blinker and merged into the right-hand lane. She hadn’t realized until Ana pointed out the sign, but she was actually pretty hungry herself.

  “Ugh. What am I going to find to eat at Rick’s Diner that is on my diet?” Ana whined.

  “You said you were hungry when we left your house,” Emily reminded her. “And you’re the one who pointed out the billboard. The better question is why the hell are you on a diet at all?” Ana was constantly complaining about her ass being too big. She was curvy, but not a single pound overweight.

  “Yeah,” said Brandon. “You’re always talking about how you’re on a diet, but you always look great.”

  Ana sighed and slumped in her seat. “I’m sure they have some sort of salad.”

  “And I’m sure that you are not leaving that diner until you eat an onion ring with me.” Emily was tired of this nonsense. She turned on the music, which happened to be Beyoncé, and sang along. “All the single ladies . . .”

  Brandon joined in, complete with choreography. Soon Ana was laughing as they pulled off the highway at the exit for Rick’s Diner, which was just off the side of the road. As Emily pulled into a parking spot, Ana sighed.

  “Fine,” she said. “One onion ring. But only one.”

  “And a Strawberry Tsunami,” Emily shouted.

  “Absolutely not,” Ana said, shaking her head violently. “You can’t make me.”

  “Hashtag YOLO,” said Brandon. “I’ve gotta take a whiz.” Then he jumped out of the car and ran into the restaurant.

  chapter 5

  The diner looked like something from the set of a high school theater production of Grease. There were red vinyl booths with metallic flecks in the plastic. Every table had a Formica top with curved chrome trim. There was a jukebox playing oldies in the corner, and a counter crammed with truckers, travelers, and teenagers. And the neon lights that ran along the top of the walls glowed bright red, pink, and radioactive green.

  After Emily and Ana walked in, they were quickly seated at a booth by a waitress wearing a pink-striped jumper, glasses on a chain around her neck, and a bouffant hairdo a color of orange that nature never intended. Emily slid in next to the window, and Ana sat next to her. Seconds later, Brandon slid into the other side and let out a low whistle.

  “Can you believe this place?” he asked with a grin. “Go, greased lightning.”

  “Right?” said Emily. “I want a double cheeseburger right this second.”

  She flipped open her menu as Ana and Brandon did the same. Ana let out a gasp. “Holy cow! There must be twenty-seven pages in this menu. They have every sandwich you can possibly imagine.”

  “And a few that you can’t . . .” Brandon pointed to something called a “tongue�
� sandwich. “How ’bout we not order one of those.”

  “Agreed,” said Emily and Ana said together.

  Emily ordered food like she’d been stoned for a month and was finally going to satisfy her munchies once and for all. Brandon joined in. By the time the waitress left their table, Ana was shaking her head in disbelief.

  “How are we possibly going to eat all of that food?”

  “We’re not,” said Emily. “But I am going to try a bite of everything.”

  “And I plan to finish whatever she doesn’t,” said Brandon.

  “And don’t forget,” Emily said, “we have to save room for a Strawberry Tsunami.”

  “A Strawberry Tsunami?” asked Brandon. He shook his head. “I’ll be having one of those on my own, so you’d better plan to order one for yourself.”

  The waitress brought the food out in shifts. First, Ana’s tuna salad on field greens arrived with Emily’s double cheeseburger and onion rings, and Brandon’s pastrami Reuben with french fries. The stuffed grilled cheese with bacon and tomatoes arrived next, along with a basket of chicken fingers and sweet-potato fries with extra ranch and honey-mustard dipping sauce.

  “Is there anything else I can get you right now?” the waitress asked.

  “Yes,” said Ana, staring in horror at the tabletop. “I’ll need a stretcher and an ambulance to carry my friends away once they eat themselves into a diabetic coma.”

  The waitress laughed, and Brandon and Ana began snapping pictures of the plates one at a time. Emily spread mayo and ketchup on her burger, and was hefting the whole thing to her mouth when Ana smacked her arm. “Hang on. I need a picture of this.”

  Emily bit down on the burger like she was in a commercial on TV and Ana squealed as she snapped the shot. “That is the perfect summer image.” She swiped and tapped a couple of times as she uploaded the shot to Instagram, just as Brandon tagged Emily on Facebook in the same shot from his side of the table.

  “Okay, you two,” Emily said as she swallowed the delicious first bite. “Enough with documenting the food. Eat it!” She forked two onions rings onto Ana’s bowl of salad, and watched as Ana tentatively put one in her mouth.