Ella's Stormy Summer Break (Ella and Ethan Book 2)

by Amy Sparling

  We wave as Ethan’s parents and sister leave first. Then Ethan turns to me, putting his hands on my waist. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride with me?”

  I slide my arms around him and hold him close. I take a deep breath and let the scent of his cinnamon gum fill my lungs. “Sorry,” I say, pulling back and looking up at him. “I have to make sure the car is okay.”

  He frowns and then kisses me softly. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips to his and make the kiss last longer. I’m panicked about the storm and nervous about the drive and hoping my eighty bucks can pay for all my food so I won’t feel indebted to the Poes while we’re evacuated, but I try to shove it all out of my mind so I can focus on just Ethan and me. The feeling of us together, his warm body wrapped around mine. I love him so much it hurts, and right now the pain is almost unbearable. Despite this stupid hurricane and the cancelled party, I still have to deal with the future that comes after this. Ethan and I will be living far away from each other. And I’m going to miss him so much.

  “I love you,” I say against his chest.

  “I love you more,” he says, his chin resting on top of my head. I let go of him and take my car keys out of my pocket.

  “Guess we better get going.”

  He grins, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “Just three more hours and we can relax by the hotel pool. I looked it up online and it’s pretty big. Has a hot tub and everything.”

  I smile back. Maybe we can’t have the party, but we can have fun together somewhere else. “See you in three hours.”

  Chapter 6

  Even though the city has officially declared that everyone must evacuate, I notice that The Burger Barn, the small diner on the outskirts of town, has a full parking lot. My mouth waters with the thought of their onion rings, and I figure that leaving half an hour later won’t hurt anything. The storm isn’t even arriving for a couple more days. I call Ella, who I can see answer her phone from my rear view mirror. She must put it on speakerphone because she holds the phone in her hand while also holding the steering wheel. I see her lips move as I hear her talk. “Hello?”

  “Wanna get some lunch?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I put on my blinker and turn into the diner’s parking lot. Ella follows me. “Aren’t we supposed to be evacuating?”

  She parks next to me and looks at me in real life while we’re still connected through the phone.

  I shrug and give her a grin. “Might as well leave with a full stomach.”

  She looks at me like I’m an idiot but then she opens her car door. We enter the diner that smells like coffee and fried food and find one of the only empty booths left. This place is usually pretty laid back and has only a handful of customers at a time, but I guess the approaching storm made everyone hungry.

  Overhead, old country music plays through the speakers, and I recognize a song from my childhood that my dad used to always sing while he was washing the dishes. Maybe that’s why I subconsciously wanted to stop here. It’s that old small town homey feeling I get every time I’m here. Everything outside of this place is crazy and frenzied, and I just needed something familiar and comforting.

  Our waitress isn’t a waitress, but the owner. “What can I get ya?” Mrs. Holt asks. She’s been in this business her whole life, so she doesn’t need a menu pad like the other waitresses. She’ll remember everything you say.

  I order a cheeseburger with onion rings and a Coke, and Ella orders a fried chicken salad. Mrs. Holt nods and then gives us an appraising look. “I’ll get the food out to you quickly and then you scarf it down and get on the road, you hear? There’s a storm coming.”

  “Why aren’t you evacuating?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I ain’t never evacuated. You leave your business and someone will loot it.”

  “But it’s safer to be somewhere away from the hurricane,” Ella says, her voice all polite like she gets when she’s talking to adults. I almost chuckle because Mrs. Holt is more of a rough old broad herself and doesn’t need to be treated like a fragile old woman.

  Mrs. Holt shrugs. “If I die, then it’s just my time to go. But you two are kids. You need to get the hell out of here.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I say, giving her a smile. “We will.”

  She nods and then ducks into the kitchen to place our order. Ella’s brows furrow as she leans to the side to look behind me. “That’s weird. It’s just a bunch of old people here.”

  I turn around and survey the diner, finding the same thing. “I guess they’re all too stubborn to evacuate.”

  Ella frowns. “I hope they’ll be okay. Can you get in trouble for refusing to evacuate?”

  I shrug because I have no idea. All I know is that if the people in charge say we should evacuate, I plan on leaving. I’m not stupid enough to sit around and wait to get disemboweled by a flying tree branch, or swallowed up in a flood.

  Ella reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “I love you,” she says softly.

  “I love you more,” I say back, giving her a smile.

  There’s a sadness in her eyes that really bothers me. “Baby, everything is going to be fine,” I say.

  She sighs. “I’m not worried about the hurricane. I mean, what’s the worst that will happen? We’ve already lost everything we owned.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” I ask. Now that I think about it, Ella has had that sadness in her eyes for a while now. It definitely started before there was a hurricane in the Gulf.

  Before she can answer, Mrs. Holt appears and drops plates of food in front of us. Ella and I let go of each other’s hand and the serious moment is over.

  “Enjoy!” Mrs. Holt says. “And hurry up. It’s on the house.”

  “Wow, thank you,” I say. She winks at me and leaves.

  When I look back at Ella, she’s pouring dressing over her salad and doesn’t look the least bit interested in telling me what’s wrong. I guess we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it when we’re hanging out at the hotel tonight.

  We eat quickly just like we were told to do, and then we fill up with gas at the closest station. There’s a line of a few people waiting at each pump so it takes forever. I’d taken two extra gas cans from the garage, and I fill them both up and put one in Ella’s car.

  “What’s this?” Ella asks.

  “It’s in case we run out of gas.”

  She looks at me skeptically. “It’s just a three hour drive. My car can go twice that far on a tank of gas.”

  “I know, but sometimes there’s gas shortages and stuff and I want us to have enough gas to get back home.”

  She nods as she considers this. “Good idea. That’s why I love you—you’re smart.”

  I grin and take her face in my hands. She smiles up at me, but I can still see something off in her eyes. It’s like she’s trying to hide whatever is bothering her. We’re still standing at the gas pumps and there’s people in line behind us, so this is no time for romance. Still, I kiss her quickly and then we break apart. “Next stop, De Sota,” I say.

  We pull onto the main road in Hockley, heading toward the interstate. I won’t need to turn on my GPS until we’re a couple hours away. The hotel is just a straight shot up I-45 until we get to De Sota. I turn up the music and glance behind me to make sure Ella is still following.

  Hockley’s roads are busier than usual with everyone evacuating, but it’s not a big deal. We cruise for a few minutes, and then brake lights in front of me make me slow down. I look up ahead. We’re still a mile from the interstate, yet we’re stopped. As far as I can see, there are cars waiting to get on the interstate. Maybe there’s a wreck or something…

  Thirty minutes later, we’ve creeped along at a snail’s pace and I can now see the entry ramp to get on the interstate. Only, it looks unlike anything I’ve ever seen. All four lanes of the large roadway are filled with cars, all moving maybe 10 miles an hour. The speed limit is 70. Holy crap.

  It might take more
than three hours to get there.

  I call my parents, who tell me they’re also stuck in traffic. But they’re much closer than we are—only an hour away from the hotel. My mom says the traffic is thick but it’s not too bad and they’re still moving at a good pace. I can’t believe they got so far by leaving just an hour before we did. I’m kicking myself for stopping at that diner. It’s been several hours and Ella and I haven’t even made it out of the county yet. This drive normally takes about fifteen minutes. I glance in my rear view mirror and see Ella in her car, her head back against the headrest. We’re currently not moving, so it’s not like she needs to pay attention to the road.

  Anxiety stretches over me, limb by limb, making me start to think about worst case scenarios. What if we run out of gas? And then run out of our spare gas? What if we never get there on time and the hurricane swallows us up?

  I hit the steering wheel and curse out my frustration. I’m so pissed for not leaving sooner. This is completely insane. We’re stuck on the interstate surrounded by other people who are also evacuating and we’re barely moving.

  Half an hour later, the traffic gets so bad that I just turn off my truck. We’re literally not moving so there’s no reason to have it on. Up ahead, a guy gets out of his car and chats with the person next to him. On the side of the road, a mom lets her kids run around in the grass, probably so they can get out their energy from being stuck in the car so long. Can’t say I blame them. I kind of want to get out and run too.

  The other side of the concrete median that separates northbound and southbound traffic is a barren wasteland. All four lanes are completely empty. It’s totally surreal, being at a dead stop on a road that’s usually filled with speeding cars. I glance back at Ella again and see her yawn. With the engine off, it’s already getting warm in here so I open my truck door and step out, stretching my legs. I walk up to Ella’s car and tap on the glass. She jumps.

  Then she rolls down the window. “Holy shit, I think I fell asleep.”

  “That’s not very safe,” I say with a sardonic chuckle. “You wouldn’t want to get ran over by someone going a hundred miles an hour.”

  She rolls her eyes. “At this point, I’d welcome the distraction. This is so damn boring.”

  Even with all these stopped cars all around me, standing in the middle of the interstate still feels wrong. I turn back and look between the lanes as far as I can see, but it’s all just stopped cars. There’s too much traffic and no one can get anywhere.

  Ella rolls down all four windows in her car and turns off the engine. “Wanna start walking to De Sota? I bet we’d get there faster.”

  I stretch my arms up over my head, still trying to release the binding feeling of being cooped up in my truck for so long. “If only we had dirt bikes,” I say. “We could cruise along the grass beside the road.”

  Ella squints. “Is that your phone?”

  I hear it too, the sound of my phone ringing from my truck. I jog back to answer it. It’s Toby.

  “Dude,” he says. “Are you stuck in traffic?”

  “Yeah, like ten miles from home, too. It’s insane.”

  “Okay, so we found a shortcut. Take the exit for county road 70 and follow it west for about twenty miles. There’s hardly any cars on these back roads. We’ve plotted out a route up north.”

  I exhale in relief. I can see the exit sign for county road 70 up ahead. As soon as the cars start moving again, we can try to get over and take it. “Thanks, man,” I say. “I’ll do that.”

  “I’ll text you all the roads we’re taking,” Toby says. “It’s way the hell out of the way, but at least you’re moving and not stuck in that hell hole. I saw footage of it online and it’s a mess. The interstate is totally dead stop traffic for about a hundred miles.”

  “Damn,” I say, all the more grateful for his call. I was thinking that maybe this one part of the road was busy but that it’d break up and go faster once we got past it. Looks like that won’t happen.

  “Thanks man,” I say. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Stay safe,” Toby says.

  When we’d first left town it was just after lunch. Now the sun is starting to set over the horizon and we’re only finally getting to the exit. No one else is taking it, and I feel guilty for keeping this secret to myself. But if I tell everyone else to take the back roads then those roads will get stuck with traffic, too. I tell Ella the plan and we inch forward slowly as the traffic takes forever to move. Finally, we reach the exit. I even turn off into the shoulder a bit just to get there sooner. Ella’s right behind me as we drive away from the interstate, take a left, and finally start moving again.

  Chapter 7

  I can’t believe we didn’t think of it ourselves. Texas is huge and sprawling and there’s miles of small backroads that link it all together. I’m so glad Toby gave Ethan the advice to ditch the interstate. It took us a while, but once we made it to that exit, we took off and didn’t look back. Driving on the backroads is a lot nicer, too. It’s getting dark and the sky is a soothing deep blue, and the roads stretch on forever with lots of empty space between them. It was getting stressful as hell to be sandwiched between dozens of cars on the highway. I felt claustrophobic. I think everyone else was feeling it, too. I especially feel bad for the families with little kids. If I’m going crazy and getting restless as an eighteen year old, I can’t even imagine how the little kids feel.

  But now we’re free. The speed limit is only 40 on these backroads, but at least we’re moving. I’ve seen a few cars here and there, and some ass in a jacked up Chevy truck even blew past me and Ethan, driving way over the speed limit a while back. I guess he was in such a hurry to leave this place that he didn’t care about breaking the law.

  And I’m pretty sure cops won’t care if we drive a little faster than normal, but Ethan keeps to the speed limit, so I do too.

  I roll down my windows and let the warm summer air blow my hair all around, grateful to be moving again. My car almost feels it too, like she’s a living breathing vehicle again instead of a hot piece of metal stuck in a traffic jam.

  I blast the music and take deep breaths and don’t think about the stupid hurricane we’re running away from. I think about me and Ethan. I think about how he held my hand in the diner and looked at me like he genuinely wanted to know what was making me feel bad.

  Maybe I can talk to him. Maybe, once we’re at the hotel and we can relax, I can pour my heart out and let him know about my fears for our relationship. Maybe he’ll understand.

  Maybe we can make it work.

  We approach a four way stop sign and there’s three cars at each intersection. It’s the most cars I’ve seen in the hour we’ve been driving. I guess more people are getting the brilliant idea to take the long way by diverting off the main highways. Ethan stops, then lets the car to his right go, and then he pulls forward. I stop and wait my turn.

  Only the silver SUV to my right is turning, and now they’re in front of me and behind Ethan. Ugh. I lean over and see his taillights just up ahead. We’re only one car apart but it feels like so much more. The road ahead of us is straight for as long as I can see, so we’ll be fine.

  I sing along with the radio as another half an hour goes by. We reach another stop sign and the SUV turns, but we go straight. Finally! I speed up to get behind Ethan again, and although it’s pretty dark outside with no streetlights on these old back roads, I can make out the Ford emblem on his tailgate. I pick up my phone to call him, but there’s no signal out here. To my left and right, there’s nothing but wide open stretches of farmland. Occasionally, we’ll pass a house, but it’s rare. I put the phone back in the cupholder and turn up the radio.

  Ethan had said it would take longer to get there with these backroads, but I don’t mind. It’s much better than being stuck in traffic. I lose track of how much time has gone by, and soon I see a little gas station on the side of the road. The storefront is old and western looking, and I’m betting that’s not
even a design choice. It’s probably a billion years old. Next to it, ironically, is a beacon of civilization: a McDonald’s. There’s two gas pumps and a small streetlight at the stop sign in front of the gas station. I wonder if Ethan will want to stop here and get more gas. It wouldn’t be a bad idea.

  I look up at his truck to see if he puts on his blinker. Illuminated by the streetlight overhead, the back of his truck looks blue … But Ethan’s truck is red. A bright shiny red that you can see from far away. I swallow as a lump rises in my throat. It’s no trick of the light. The Ford truck in front of me is blue.

  This is not Ethan.

  The truck stops at the stop sign and then rolls forward, leaving me idling in the road, my foot on the brake while I watch it drive further away. There are no other taillights in the distance. No other cars that could be Ethan. I’m completely alone.

  I lost him.

  I don’t know how much time passes with me sitting here on the road, but eventually I realize I should probably drive. My heart is pounding and my phone is still unable to find a signal.

  This can’t be happening. The road is straight. It’s been straight forever. If Ethan had turned off somewhere, I would have seen it. I bite down hard on my lip and I press the gas pedal. He’s still on the road somewhere. I’m going to catch up to him.

  I blow past the speed limit sign on the side of the road, watching the odometer on the old Corolla creep up to fifty and then sixty. I keep going. Seventy miles an hour feels like two hundred on these back roads. They’re small and there’s no shoulder and every little bump feels like a roller coaster, but I keep my foot on the pedal and I go as fast as I can.

  I catch up with the fake Ethan in just a few minutes. The stupid blue Ford truck makes my blood boil. I can’t believe I followed it in the dark for so long and never even noticed that it wasn’t his truck. I give it more gas and swerve to the left, speeding around this truck. I don’t have time to follow him anymore. I need to find Ethan.